A lost young man sits, searching through libraries of popular music for a sound to call his own. Seemingly, everything has been done generations before. Then came the furious pounding. Soaked in moonlight, he sees a small window atop a house on the corner; the only one lit. Pounding and pounding, the drums came from this light, like the heartbeat in the young man's chest. Guitar in-hand, he knocks on the door of the source. "Come this way". Up a staircase and into the highest room. It's a small room, littered with tired instruments. We light cigarettes. We swallow our drinks. We plug in, amp's cranked. Gain? Cranked. We played. We played until exhaustion. We played until we ran out of things to consume, and then we played again. Disabled. Sick. Overcome with a power greater than our sum, we parted ways, just as randomly and hastily as we met. Since then we have wandered through the eviscerating world of rock and roll, dusting off tired instruments. Beyond all reason and resolve. Beyond judgement. There were no lessons. No direction. No politics. No competition. There is a venomous "machine" that spreads throughout. Disability Sickness is our cure. A realization of a place that exists beyond the reality of most. There is no safety; only release.
Band MembersNJ, TH