THE EDITED PRESS RELEASE: “Take the freaked-out, punked-up soul of The Stooges and MC5. Mix that with ’60s garage trash. Blend in Black Sabbath, AC/DC and heavy rock ’n’ roll. Then hot wire that sound to a handful of freaks located in Fredericton, N.B., of all places.
That’s where The Angered Wrecks were located — more specifically, in an old Victorian-style house downtown. It was here they set up a permanent rehearsal space on the main floor, taking up the dining room and living room area with a full P.A. system. And it was here the long parties would begin as Angered Wrecks cranked out an unholy primal serving of mind-numbing, eyeball-popping, guttural rock ’n’ roll.
Lucky for us they also had a primitive DIY recording set up as they recorded live off the floor with one cardioid mic taped to the ceiling to capture the entire room sound and straight into a cheap Alpine cassette deck. The results of these previously unheard recordings capture the essence of trashy rock ’n’ roll at its finest, delivered with pure dereliction, and always a side of extra sleaze.
Keeping warm in the winter at another old salt box-style house they would later rehearse and play gigs in, a large circle was cut in the floor so that the rising heat from the pottery kiln downstairs would (along with the right mixture of beer, Purple Jesus, weed, speed and hot dogs) keep these boys fuelled long enough in sub-zero temperatures to keep pumping out the rock ’n’ roll savagery.
The last show they played was in the fall of ’81 at the Bug Shack, after the household was served an eviction noticed so the house could be demolished (just like The Stooges’ Fun House). They got a gig together the weekend before demolition, packed the bottom floor and played a blazing set. At the very end, walls were kicked apart, old cans of paint were strewn about, general wanton destruction was directed at furniture, doors, windows, etc. It was insane. The bug shack had come to an end and shortly thereafter, Angered Wrecks followed.
That these tapes have survived to this day is all thanks to John Westhaver’s archival hoarding (even though the loss of one 90-minute session still haunts him to this day). So crank these tracks as loud as you can — these audio tapes are not for the faint of heart.”