Even though it's a departure from the earlier Chrome sound there's nothing mainstream in the least about Red Exposure, which is the closest they ever got to recording for a major label (Beggars Banquet). The jagged Stooges-psych-punk edges have been smoothed down for the most part, replaced by a warped anti-social retro/futuristic mentality with vague roots in New Wave. The previous EP release Read Only Memory functioned much in the same fashion, but in a repetitive dance vein. In some respects, this material is even darker than anything on HMLP or Alien Soundtracks - how does the garbled grind of "Jonestown" suit you?

For all intents and purposes, Chrome becomes a duo with this record, even though Gary Spain played bass on a few tracks. But now they have free rein, and in this anything-goes bout they do not compromise a thing. Creed's guitar slash which opens "TV As Eyes" comes ripping through your speakers like a wave of dinosaurs and has to be one of the most hair-raising sounds in music ever, bar none. It's weird to pigeonhole the music here as industrial or any other genre - simply put, I call it "Chrome music" because I have never heard anyone either intentionally sound like this, or do it by accident! Even on the slower tracks there's a desperate, manic sort of tension that's hard to ignore, as if you're trapped in some kind of post-apocalyptic maze with a clock counting down against you. Edge's incessant, trash-can banging which serves as drumming matches perfectly with Creed's angular guitar lines and riffs, which are dastardly dark mood-wise, but nothing at all to do with blues. This is definitely one of those punk/psych documents which not only defies categorization but also manages to elude discovery to this very day. Which makes it a favorite of mine, of course!

The Visitation was a nice record and all but, for real, this is where the Chrome story begins. This was where wacky guitarist Helios Creed entered the group, and was the impetus for a quantum leap forward in all phases. What was once a laidback, California-flavored take on the Hawkwind groove had morphed into a defiant, Stooges-derived snark fest lent further credibility by Creed's lurking presence. His slashing, monolithic passages are not as prominent as they would be on the next record, but certainly, he's a great counterpart for Damon Edge and his wall of drums, samples, and other odd machines. Together they create a sound world that's not for everyone but undoubtedly, stakes a claim apart from everything else going on at that time…or any other time, for that matter.

Don't believe the critics dismissing this one. Mescalero is an hour-plus of unabashed ZZ fun, effortlessly blending local flavor, traditional band hijinks, and other hip sounds you wouldn't believe made it onto a record of theirs in 2003. But Gibbons' guitar is as thick and fuzzy as ever, pulsating through a forest of irreverent material capped off by a cover of "As Time Goes By".

The chaotic but undeniably dynamic figure who led The Deviants through the thick of the 60's had already seen better days by the late 70's. This scenester-backed record both reflects and revels Farren's ever-deteroirating condition, even though the cover smacks of hokey novelties.