I remember years ago stumbling into one of the local record stores with a belly full of cheap vodka and an attitude that could topple a Redwood. It was one of those wax museum joints, you know, with the aging hipsters smoking Canadian cigarettes and arguing over what the best Zappa bootleg is. I flipped through the stacks for a couple of minutes, hoping some kind of rock and roll inspiration would smack me out of my desperate booze fueled haze, but I was coming up empty- not to mention seeing double- so I just decided to go ahead and demand some sonic salvation. The guy behind the counter had teeth like an animal and filmy glasses, and looked like he probably slept in the crawlspace behind the jazz section. "Look, man", I told him. "I need some serious rock. No pussy shit, you dig? The real stuff. And if it ain't, I'm gonna come back here and throw a fuckin' brick through your window." He sold me the first Fireballs of Freedom record. I didn't have to smash anything.

Fast forward a few years. Everything's different, except for one thing. I still don't like to fuck around when it comes to rock and roll. Welcome, then, to the Octagon. Watch where you step, there are fizzing fuzz pedals everywhere, and they have a tendency to explode at will. What are those, vibes? Are you telling me they've got fuckin' vibes on this record? Baby, I'm telling you they've got everything on this record, the beginning and ending of it all, the life and death of the party. How many times have you heard the claim, especially from punk ass rock writers, that a band sounds like the MC5? And has it ever, besides when it was me, and I was talking about Cracktorch, been true? The Fireballs sound like the MC5, all right. The MC5 with their backs on fire, tearing ass through the city streets, howling like wounded coyotes, lobbing molotov cocktails full of pure, uncut maximum super soul at the riot cops. Make no mistake, though, there is as much love as their are flames of justice in these grooves, but it's a deep and heavy love, the kind of love you've got to fight and scratch and bleed for. But when you get it, it'll keep fucking you, long and hard and with spiritual intent, forever. If you're done wasting time with amateurs, than you know what to do. The revolution is on, full swing. All you've got to do is get naked and jump in, citizen.