Rockin', stompin', hootin' and hollerin' ... that's what RFTC is made of. Well, that and a wall of guitars fit to make Phil Spector jealous of the sheer volume and sonic density the band produces. This is probably the funkiest party record to come out of Diego in this decade so far, and it swings like that proverbial pendulum, or London when lame bands aren't polluting the Top of the Pops. If you live in this town and don't already own this, shame on you. Shame, shame, shame. As for "Hot Charity," my first thought when I slapped this slab o' wax on the ol' turntable was that I could get mighty buffed by simply lifting it a few times ev'ry day until that Charles Atlas workout kit arrived in the post, but then I put the needle down and lost my hearing, not to mention all glassware in the house. That's okay though, because this album (even though it skips like a gang of double-dutching 3rd graders) fucking rules. No clue what label it's on, no idea where to get it. Good luck.