This particular album was the culmination of a bunch of scattered EP's Zombie (calling himself Rob "Dirt" Straker at the time) and bassist Sean Yseult had recorded with a variety of guitarists and drummers, who never seemed to really fit the project. Then a guitarist named Tom Guay (a.k.a. Tom "Five") and drummer Ivan de Prume came on board, suddenly things started to gel for the trashy, horror-film inspired, noise-rock sound they were trying to get at. Soul-Crusher's 10 tracks can be hard to latch onto for a lot of listeners. They lurch around uncontrollably without warning, the guitar lines often make no sense, Rob's vocals squelch out of your speakers and are hard to interpret, and the rhythm section acts like a continuous, furious undertow against your brain. No individual track stands out, or even wants to stand out. Instead, it functions exactly like a crazed zombie on a mission for live flesh, cognizant of nothing but its' next victim. In a sense, I feel like this is the band's best ever work, because they spontaneously create something that is actually spooky without all of the other corporate garbage which surrounded the later works, even though it's hard to say there is an all-time track to pick out of the bunch. Zombie/Straker and Yseult would ditch this approach quite soon - as soon as the next record - and go down the metal road, finding another guitarist to better fit the new direction.

Generally, as it relates to the original glory/Hugh Cornwell years of the group, it does a good job, in that it selects all of the important singles and plops them on one disc for one’s enjoyment. You can haggle over a few tracks which should or should not be there, but overall, the job is done. Each album feels like it is represented as its’ own era with a roughly equal amount of singles. So, those of you who have this impression of the Stranglers as this gruff, misanthropic punk band, think again! A relatively fun, surface overview of one of the more intriguing groups to come out of the mid-70’s punk era.

Now this is relaxing. Almost too much so. Who would have thought what was once possibly Britain’s most unruly band to come out of the punk scene would now be the one most likely to cure your insomnia? Hugh Cornwell is now crooning to the high heavens asking you to “let him down easy” while there are fake-sounding horns blaring in the background like it's a Rod Stewart video or something. The musicians sound cheaper than ever before, and the strange thing is, on quite a few tracks here, you can’t help but tap your feet to some of these ditties. Ah, these Stranglers – they have a funny way of getting into your psyche like few other bands! “Skin Deep” is by far the best of the best – a somnambulant, yet cunning journey through synthesized sounds that is somewhat close to “Golden Brown”, at least in the vanity department.But I cannot get past one overriding factor – this is the most exquisitely recorded slice of boredom I have ever heard in my life.

A defiantly odd act no matter what era they debuted in, the Stranglers happened to release their initial works in the midst of punk era Britain, and got themselves pegged as misanthropic thugs. But then again, snap judgments proved useless when it came to these guys, and furthermore, they could not have cared less. The album is a psychological tempest, going well beyond the mere question of what is or is not punk rock - leave that for simpletons like the Clash and the Pistols - instead focusing on the ins, outs, and battles of everyday street life. You know, stuff that actually mattered to functioning followers of the punk rock scene, most likely. Dave Greenfield's nimble keyboard work is the main musical anchor here, winding around everyone else's trials and tribulations, thumbing it in the noses of societal norms - or even the norms of punk rock, as evidenced by the copious amounts of professional musicianship on display. The proper album even ends on a mesmerizing four-part epic reminiscent of progressive rock ("Down in the Sewer"), while the 2001 re-issue adds three bonus tracks ("Choosey Susie", "Go Buddy Go", a live version of "Peasant in the Big Shitty") which are all worth hearing, and blend seamlessly into the fabric of the album itself.

This album and subsequent tour were supposed to be the "Return of KISS", which was confusing on a number of fronts. Didn't they just blitz the public with like, a ton of solo records and a feature film, the very year before? So, what exactly were these buffoons returning from? It was as if they were subconsciously acknowledging the previous year's ventures were grandiose failures. Then again, it went deeper than that. Criss was a broken-down mess by now, both physically and mentally. The band chose to bring in the producer from his solo album - Vini Poncia - who took one look at Criss and decided he wasn't fit to play drums on this record. The band called in the drummer who played on Ace's solo record, Anton Fig, to ghost-play on every track - except for one, the appropriately-named "Dirty Livin". Dynasty, in general, doesn't sound like a typical KISS record, or at least not one up to this point. Then again, we heard traces of this drift in Love Gun as well. Furthermore, despite the illusion of togetherness as displayed on the album cover - which was a hoax in itself - it all sounds like the product of a very fractured band, as if they simply merged four distinct personalities in one record, never bothering to cross paths with one particular track. In one sense, it makes for an interesting record because it appears to jump from one weird place to another, with the added rider that it does away with the usual KISS reference points and dares to go in directions that the older records never bothered to go in. But in another sense, it feels very artificial - they are only doing this because it's trendy, or they are bored, or just pissed off with each other. As B.B. King sang once upon a time, the thrill is gone…and I mean, long gone.