Making his directorial debut, Robert Hossein also assumes the leading role, playing an escaped convict. Hossein and his fellow escapees cross the path of Marina Vlady, with whom they all fall in love. Alas for our "heroes," Vlady intends to avenge the death of her sweetheart at the hands of Hossein and his confreres. Not only do these heels go to Hell, but they do so with a spectacular flourish. Les Salauds Vont en Enfer was adapted by Rene Wheeler from a play by Frederic Dard.
A gang of bank robbers with a suitcase full of money go to the desert to hide out. After burying the loot, they find their way to a surreal town full of cowboys who drink an awful lot of coffee. The townspeople are hostile to the outsiders at first, but seem to accept them once they've killed a couple of people. After a while, a mysterious man named Dade arrives, who seems to have unpleasant business to settle with the robbers. A free-for-all shoot-em-up ensues.
Many may disagree, but it’s always struck me as rather peculiar that The Clash were labelled as a punk band. It seems no mention of the movement can go by without the obligatory namedropping of the (utterly brilliant) Sex Pistols – so here it is – but whereas they and contemporaries such as The Buzzcocks seemed to plunder traditional rock’n’roll as their main inspiration, The Clash looked more to blues and the sounds of their native Brixton – which in turn were predominantly the sounds of Jamaica.
Anyone hoping that Hank Williams III's "Hellbilly" metal band Assjack would finally make it onto one of his albums is still out of luck, but Hank III's third solo effort Straight to Hell comes close to getting their no-quarter spirit onto plastic, if not their sound. Taking the no-frills hard-country sound of 2002's Lovesick, Broke & Driftin' as a starting point, Straight to Hell pumps a good bit more darkness into the mix; mostly recorded at home on a digital portastudio, Straight to Hell begins with a sample of the Louvin Brothers' "Satan Is Real" interrupted by a burst of demonic laughter, which then segues into the title tune, a testimony to a life of cheap thrills and dangerous living that sounds like a classic string band rounding the corners at 90-miles-an-hour with empty bottles of bourbon propping open the windows….