These local boys impressed me so much that I climbed out of the cellar and up into the muggy Kenmore air to smoke cigarettes and watch Mr. Butch panhandle.
Fifty Lashes hit the stage like four drunken baboons all cranked up on some government-sanctioned amphetamine that the military is no doubt secretly testing.
The songs range from indie rock to metal to snarly Pistols-esque punk with a bit of Jello vocal jiggle. The production spotlights the siner and ignore the band.