I’m an old-school fan of punk rock. Like, Lenny Kaye/Lester Bangs “punk.” The Troggs. The Seeds. Big-browed, primitive caveman ugga-bugga rock.
So guys (and I’m talking to you, Mountain Cult), when I say the word “retarded,” I mean it with the utmost praise. I love it. The album. I love the album. And also retardation.
