LIVE, DOWN 'N' REALLY DIRTY It’s the beach party of your dreams. Not one of those with the squeaky-clean suburban kids doing the frug at Malibu like in the movies, oh no. This is Myrtle Beach, filled with dangerous bikers and gang members and hot mamas and escaped convicts and god knows who else (best not to ask), all cruising for kicks. It’s after midnight but the heat still lingers from a blistering day. Except for a small bonfire, the dark is all-enveloping; couples vanish into it and you’d best be looking elsewhere. At the fire, some guy’s carving his initials into his hand with a pen knife, and two babes are noodle-dancing to the waves, or maybe just the voices in their heads. They need music, dammit. Just then, a cloud of dust materializes at the far end of the boardwalk, heading your way, getting closer by the minute. As it approaches, you can just make out the silhouette of a rather large man atop a little motor scooter, some crazy looking guitar slung over his shoulder. Who IS this guy? The scooter chugs to a stop at your feet, and off steps the only musician in the known world who could play this party without having the shit kicked out of him.Bo Diddley.He plugs in, kicks off a scorching guitar riff. The band falls in. And the place goes totally batshit. Miraculously, someone thought to bring along a tape recorder. The result: Bo Diddley’s Beach Party, the absolute pinnacle of vicarious musical thrills. Presented in its original, glorious, Distort-O-Phonic mono, this sweaty grungefest kicks ass from start to finish.Lots of albums claim to be essential, groundbreaking, and all that crap, and pointyheaded rock crits fawn over cosmic lyrical brainfarts and diminished ninths and such. Bo Ddiddley’s Beach Party just kicks sand in their faces and dares you not to dance. Sundazed earnestly believes that you have no business calling yourself a rock ‘n roll fan, an r&b maven, or even a sentient human being unless this album is in your collection, that’s how cruci