The album EFA takes you right to the active volcano’s orifice, smears ritual body paint all over you, and prepares you to make a human offering to the Sun God.
There is no sane way to review this CD. 44 minutes of songs, covers, sounds and either madly witty lyrics, or stupid-as-hell stories/parodies. Or something.
Allow the glorious feedback of Sonic Boom to caress thine skin and alter thine eyes as the stumbling auditory brook splashes you to see the secrets of Now.