"Ha Ha Ha" was unheralded upon its release in 1977; a quarter of a century later, it sounds like the great lost punk album - noisy, feedback-drenched, pissed off, John Foxx's every line a snarl. Song structures are pretty rudimentary - start slow and portentious, get loud and fast, freak out at the end - but hey, if the formula works, don't mess with it. They do provide some chill finally, in the form of closer "Hiroshima Mon Amour," a zombied-out beatbox ballad. A beautiful, chaotic, messy album, and light-years away from the mannered, mannequin eleganza of later Ultravox.