The Manifolds plowed out the kind of noisy wrecked double-drummer rock 'n' roll that flourished until the great Estrus warehouse fire in the mid-'90s and then retreated (like Bigfoot) to the security of the secluded backwoods. An unjustly underrated testament to iconoclasm that would have been one of those records you'd see in an SST catalog and wonder about. Named not for the car part but for the destiny. Tracklist has not survived into the digital age.

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