A full set of mp3s (pretty damn good quality for a bootleg, I have to admit) of this show can now be found here. It didn’t seem like they played for 52 minutes. Time must have flew since I was enjoying it that much.
A crappy recording of the Washington DC show the day before can also be found here.
The consensus on the internet about The Fucking Champs is that no one can really make up their mind about The Fucking Champs . Just about every net reviewer seems to wonder if they’re a joke, as if all their guitar virtuousity could only be accompanied with tongues planted firmly against cheeks. And, everyone has some wacked out visualization of them, how they’re a mix of (insert really good riff guitarist here), (insert something metal-ish here) and (wildcard here: some dead composer, a video game or maybe a nothern European country). To me, The Fucking Champs fall somewhere between Thin Lizzy, Deadly Towers, the Baroque period and my own guitar awkwardness.
But one thing is certain: they’re not cool.