Guitar noise raw enough to make you cut your teeth and chew your beer. Drum vibrations that will rearrange your heartbeat backwards. Lascivious vocalizing that will make you wish your ears were between your legs. What? Everything… Give up? I did years ago.
You won’t hear it on an indie-mag compilation. You won’t see it on pedestrian tv. You won’t feel it on your sweaty palms. You won’t even taste it for all the mercury.
It will find you. It WILL find you. Is it garage? Whatever the fuck that means... Is it punk? Shutup.
Is it surf? Don’t make me…. Is it pop? Enough, already. It’s enough for you to dance the hopscotch with your eyes shut; it’s enough for you to punch your best friend before making-out; it’s enough to writhe on the floor in your own emancipated birthday suit; it’s enough to shake off the workaday catatonic stupor with a self-effacing one-armed handstand, legs flailing like jellied antennae. It’s enough to leave the house and remember what it was like, and what it should be.
So get your sequined assless chaps on, brush your hair back with a blowtorch, fellate your quiff for the umpteenth time, iron your bowtie white and get down to the goddamn pub. Seething is believing. Bad Vision will be seeing you. *If you need points of reference, think Jay Reatard, Jacuzzi Boys, Eddy Current Suppression Ring, Buzzcocks, Wipers, Waaves, Black Lips, Dirtbombs etc Read more on Last.fm.
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