Back before the Beatles boy band french polished away the beer stains, human juices and cigarette burns of US 50's culture, Link axed rock and roll with the precison of a Cherokee hatchet. In the UK we had the Shadows, never more aptly named because Link was the light they were hiding behind. Dullll copyists, the equivalent of comparing Pat Boone to Little Richard hahahahahaha.
Just before the Sonics, Link kicked in his speakers and spoke to the world in dirrrtttyyyy guitar tones. With a glint in his eye, clothes just shed themselves by magic in a mangled heap, suddenly twister appeared as a magic carpet, before you know it, bodies are all intertwined in contorted shapes. This is the magical music of Link Wray as he lest loose with the King of Fuzz. You may know him from Pulp Fiction but in the carousal of the rock lexicon, playing the Link is as good as a wink.
This revs up with the Batman, more Adam West than Heath Ledger, a camp classic to kick off those high heels gents and get down to the shimmy shammy. The rest of the tracks are the groooove, 60's twisters where clothes will fly off quicker than a Primark sale and sweat will pour faster than a bordello on piece work,as you wait for the last temptation, the ultimate in desert, the cherry at the top of the pile, the Link presents the Rumble; a slow climax to the evening where dreams of ragged claws running across silent oceans, sets the nerves a tingle for a two minute long slow comfortable skrew into the world of Mr Wray.
A quick breather and a sip on a Lavender Loveboat or a Lover's Twist (Gin Sake and Lime Juice) then it's time to stick it in again and get back grooving on the floor.