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...right from th'get-go a cat knows what gonna happen with this wax, its off kilter rockin' in th' stooge way, th' only way, th'way thats trod only by fools'n angels, th'road to complete oblivian o' th'senses, cleanin' th'synapes o' societies debris...a double waxin' cos th'groove is too big'n heavy to be contained on one disc, th'noise poundin' comes in waves o' spillage'n one disk is way too small a surface to get th' goods rollin'n tumblin',feedback leakin' out every crevis, lookin' to destroy th'dullard...though th'stooge vibe is th'workin' base theres plenty room for tangental information like festival era pink fairies'n punked out splatt like flipper'n th'sleepers(great lost san francisco combo from back in th'day)plus a messed up spacerock vibe, but not no ambient space jive,this ones gotta be an armed death star battle cruiser expungin' whole galaxies in its wake...sometimes wailin out th' lonesome sound o' mutatin' memphis rock-a-daddies at a slow pace, not lethargic, more like pullin' th'weight o' keepin' th'drugs in check, sometimes on th'verge o' collapse'n sometimes just kickin' up a riot packed storm, its all part o' day-to-day life for monoshock who operated on'n off through th'nineties, keepin'th'wail from goin' pale...cranial bustin' swill straight up fulla swamp gas'n fire crackers hittin' th'preordained target, this is not for squares'n nerds who like to keep it polite, this is a jail break from some other dimension....like th'needles o' armageddon these cats come to shake it with th' faithful with th'righteous rock'n roll vibe'n wipe out th'pretender rockers, th'careerists that were lurkin' in every space'n place through th'later years o' th' 20th century...monoshock had no time for capitalist lackys'n hollywood wannabe trend poppers, these cats scrape like pure free spirit jazz skronk like th'NYC loft cats from those 1960s days...they were believers in th' dream, liberators o' th'id'n idea, art damaged on a street level, no pretentions to anythin',WHAT IT IS is th' all o' everythin' th' sum total o' WHAT IT IS...kickin' th' gong with these heads is somewhat near th' perfect way to laze up th' afternoon sun cruisin' th'mind bubbles in a homemade dune buggy...
...right from th'get-go a cat knows what gonna happen with this wax, its off kilter rockin' in th' stooge way, th' only way, th'way thats trod only by fools'n angels, th'road to complete oblivian o' th'senses, cleanin' th'synapes o' societies debris...a double waxin' cos th'groove is too big'n heavy to be contained on one disc, th'noise poundin' comes in waves o' spillage'n one disk is way too small a surface to get th' goods rollin'n tumblin',feedback leakin' out every crevis, lookin' to destroy th'dullard...though th'stooge vibe is th'workin' base theres plenty room for tangental information like festival era pink fairies'n punked out splatt like flipper'n th'sleepers(great lost san francisco combo from back in th'day)plus a messed up spacerock vibe, but not no ambient space jive,this ones gotta be an armed death star battle cruiser expungin' whole galaxies in its wake...sometimes wailin out th' lonesome sound o' mutatin' memphis rock-a-daddies at a slow pace, not lethargic, more like pullin' th'weight o' keepin' th'drugs in check, sometimes on th'verge o' collapse'n sometimes just kickin' up a riot packed storm, its all part o' day-to-day life for monoshock who operated on'n off through th'nineties, keepin'th'wail from goin' pale...cranial bustin' swill straight up fulla swamp gas'n fire crackers hittin' th'preordained target, this is not for squares'n nerds who like to keep it polite, this is a jail break from some other dimension....like th'needles o' armageddon these cats come to shake it with th' faithful with th'righteous rock'n roll vibe'n wipe out th'pretender rockers, th'careerists that were lurkin' in every space'n place through th'later years o' th' 20th century...monoshock had no time for capitalist lackys'n hollywood wannabe trend poppers, these cats scrape like pure free spirit jazz skronk like th'NYC loft cats from those 1960s days...they were believers in th' dream, liberators o' th'id'n idea, art damaged on a street level, no pretentions to anythin',WHAT IT IS is th' all o' everythin' th' sum total o' WHAT IT IS...kickin' th' gong with these heads is somewhat near th' perfect way to laze up th' afternoon sun cruisin' th'mind bubbles in a homemade dune buggy...
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