Lone Star garage punks take no prisoners on this high-impact document of a 2013 gig the band played at the Chapel in San Francisco, California. isn't a fancy title, and this ain't a fancy album, but that's why it works so well -- this is unfiltered, unrefined, and unrelenting rawk, captured in its native environment, with the band starting the set in fourth gear and getting louder and wilder over the course of 27 sweat-soaked minutes. Despite his over the top attack, lead singer (that's where the name comes from) is a solid vocalist with a powerful voice, audible charisma, and a gift for bantering with the audience, capable of sounding friendly or brutally dismissive given the circumstances. Meanwhile, guitarists and crank like the bastard children of , with shards of six-string fury bursting out without a moment's pause until this thing screeches to a halt. Add in the tireless drumming of , the brutal throb of bassist , and a mix that's not afraid of this band's impressive low end, and sounds like the faster-and-louder cross mixture of ' many have tried to wish into existence. This album is more about raw power than tunes, but a few of the songs really do stand out, especially "Uncle Powderbag," "Running on Fumes," and "If the Shit Fits," and the group wails with the fervor of true believers, while 's running commentary on the audience's fashion sense, hygiene, drug use, and relative charm is often a hoot. If were looking for a way to convince more folks to come and see them live, Live in San Francisco is as good an advertisement as they could hope for -- this is a hot-wired rock & roll onslaught that's sure to leave a mark, and a riotous testament to this act's explosive skills on-stage. ~ Mark Deming