Spice and berry hit first, bright and full of twang, with milk chocolate underneath keeping time. The name promises sludge. What lands in the cup is a prickly rose, heavy and smooth as a slow song played too loud.

October 1977, Memphis. Alex Chilton producing, the Cramps tearing through a pile of songs. The tapes got shelved for reasons nobody wrote down and sat in Poison Ivy's garage for decades, until the recently revived Vengeance Records put them out. Henry Rollins calls it “one of those impossible stories.” Twelve tracks, out August 21 on Vengeance.

We built the cup to match: 60% Honduras, 40% Guatemala, roasted medium so the spice stays sharp and the berry stays loud. Records that waited that long in a garage deserve better than whatever is scorching in the office pot.

Officially licensed Cramps coffee, roasted in Detroit, twelve ounces. Built for slow mornings, loud afternoons, and anyone who still gets up to flip the record over. Corky sez: don't be a drip, pour something hot over that tired ritual of yours. Strictly limited. When it's gone, it's gone.