Recorded back in 1967, this is Brötzmann's first album and it is definitely not for the faint of heart, but it's also not as nasty as I was lead to believe. Sure it's a skronkfest pretty much throughout, but it's obviously not completely out of control and it's this subtle unity (and the high testosterone levels) which makes this such an enjoyable and exciting album. The chemistry is intense here, but I especially love the play between Brötzmann's eternal attack (as if it were a fight to the death) of his saxophone and Sven-Åke Johansson's incredible mastery of the drums (hearing him adapt to the constant twists and turns of these pieces is fascinating). A very promising debut which went on to become a classic in the annals of free-jazz history. Brötzmann went on to record even greater works, but this one definitely cemented him as a force to be reckoned with.