In the Autumn of 1988, a Detroit-based post-hardcore duo called the Cavalier appeared seemingly from nowhere, released a single ten song, fifteen minute long LP – building something of a punk rock legend in the process – only to immediately disappear, never to be heard from again.

Davey Palaimonius and C. Adaurora met in college and quickly realized they shared a love for a very specific brand of politically inspired, loud and fast rock and roll. Combining their passions for punk bands like the Minutemen, D.C. Hardcore acts like Minor Threat, as well as the influence of the 60s and 70s Detroit scene of the MC5, Iggy and the Stooges and Death, they decided to form a band.

Palaimonius played the guitar and sang while Adaurora (who had never before touched an instrument) bought a drum set and let forth throat lacerating screams from behind it. Calling themselves the Cavalier, a reference to what they saw as the apathy and flippancy paid to politics at the time, the duo wrote songs fast, played shows sporadically and quickly established a unique voice of fluid yet pummeling punk rock.

Three years into the Reagan administration, the Cavalier found a way to vent their frustrations of an increasingly conservative and corporate-centric America. Palaimonius and Adaurora took turns writing songs, though if they hadn't taken turns singing as well it'd be hard to tell. They both wrote extensively about a country and a populace allowing themselves to be taken advantage of, and it's probably no coincidence they lived and played in Detroit, a city that saw the results of changing industry and economic conditions more than just about anywhere else.

After establishing a small presence in the local rock clubs, the Cavalier hurried into the studio. What was initially planned to be a five song EP (featuring the first side of the eventual full-length) was expanded to take advantage of the duo's quick writing and recording process. Music was often recorded in only one take, and songs were written and re-written in the studio, with the tapes running, to be included on the release.

The finished product was the self-titled LP you have before you today. Over the course of just over 15 minutes, the Cavalier expound on the public's acceptance of corporate greed (the first track – and, indeed, the first song written as a band – "Victim"), the government's inability to control it ("Fought, Failed"), the media's reluctance to report it ("No Math") and even the looming economic and environmental collapse that it would eventually cause (album closer "A Killing").

Unfortunately, the Cavalier vanished from the live circuit before the record was even released. Palaimonius left his home state in an attempt to build a career elsewhere (a decision he writes about in "Leave Detroit") while Adaurora, once a laborer in the rapidly diminishing auto industry, seemed to have disappeared altogether. With their only LP a limited pressing from the short-lived local imprint Useless Martyrs, the album soon became a rarity, with only the rumor of its existence (and greatness) left to circulate Detroit and beyond.

Today, the long disappearance of the Cavalier comes to an end. With this re-issue, a new generation can discover the powerful force of C. Adaurora's ripped vocal chords and manic, nearly collapsing drum patterns as well as the the fragile beauty of Davey Palaimonius' rasping voice and angular guitar. They can reflect on the duo's uniquely nihilistic view of capitalism and corporate takeover, which is perhaps more relevant now then ever. Most of all, they can finally experience the sounds of a band, an album and a moment in time which was very nearly lost forever. Twenty five years later, this is The Cavalier.