Fairfield Halls, Live 1970

This album is a sweat-soaked time capsule of a band before they found their sparkle. It sounds like a crowded hall in 1970, where the air is thick with cigarette smoke and the smell of stale beer. The music isn't polite; it's a heavy, organ-driven assault that feels more like a street fight than a concert. You can hear the hunger in Ian Hunter's raspy delivery, a voice that sounds like it's been cured in whiskey and city smog. It’s the sound of a band trying to prove they belong on the stage, long before the safety net of David Bowie's production.

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