Perfection in art is for subjective fools. The goal of any real artist is purity, and purity is a state of mind. Hamlet knew and told us. To thine own self, be true.

In 2007, with the wayward absence of bassist Cris Kirkwood a hiccup since passed, the Meat Puppets simultaneously reformed and pledged a singular fervent purpose. Complete resurrection. That’s no small order. This is, after all, a band that stands out as one of the most illuminous sparks highlighting the first, and most overtly accomplished, coming of American indie rock, those golden and precious years lying roughly between 1979 and 1985. An era so filled with purity, it reigns supreme to this day with an embarrassment of musical riches. Many of them straight from the fingers of Kirkwood/Kirkwood/ Bostrom.