Yeah, bought this in '82, aged 14 - along with Dead Kennedys' Plastic Surgery Disasters, the other classic from that year. Nothing on the face of your earth prepares you for this sonic assault. Nothing. Heavy metal, eat my shorts, you lame losers, you fakes! Rise Above kicks off like they mean to go on, a spiralling, pummelling thrash of positive electricity that says 'you can kick me and beat me, but I will keep on getting up just to spite you goddamnit'. SPRAY PAINT THE WALLS - a 90 second slash across your ears. The feedback from Ginn's guitar before Rollins SCREAMS Depression, thrashing into a rolling thunder of pain and angst so real it hurts. The sound that launched a thousand boring imitations careers on through Life of Pain, Padded Cell, Room 13, all tempered and annealed in a white-hot, speed-of-light, grenade in the mouth and shit the pin's been pulled, NOISE that rips out to its 'de-facto' template with Thirsty and Miserable. Man, I felt like this. I lived it. Finally the record crawls, hobbles, spins out of control with the nightmare of working 9-5, living a lie and kissing your boss's butt just to get a slave wage as Rollins croaks and snarls his way through Damaged no.1. Damaged declares war on you - it'll leave you breathless, adrenalized and wanting to believe that the world cannot do anything to you more painful than you can inflict on yourself. You'll either find this LP a life-enhancing phenomenon or a crushing blow to all your sanitized pre-conceptions on what your trivial life is supposed to be. Nothing is louder, faster or harder. Believe me, I've heard it all. Accept no imitations. This is your brain through the mangle, into the mincer and fried in petrol. Lacerate yourself. Go on, you know you want to.