I know I've plugged Joe Bonomo's wonderful, wonderful book about the Fleshtones on here several times before, but we just got this great review by Kris Needs in Mojo, and we wanted to share it with you.
Pursuing an unquenchable lust for life, music and partying since forming in a debauched Queens basement, the Fleshtones have paid homage to Archie Bell and the Drells, Standells-era punk and also plugged into the hedonistic energy of the "New York experience" at gay club The Cock Ring. Dismissed by one critic as a "mindless twist band", the Fleshtones weren't feted like their contemporaries but, undaunted, have released some 20 albums and have gigged relentlessly, remaining undimmed of spirit and happy that Suicide are fans. Bonomo's beautifully written, band-assisted account is both hilarious and tragic. There's heroic excess, dogged obsession, personal tragedy and slapstick situations, and even if the Hall of Fame never beckons, the Fleshtones can at least count their name on one of the great music biographies.