Maybe I’m tired of power trios, or I’m suspicious of bands who write letters to ‘zines complaining of sexism and then make jokes about their hairdressers on stage.
Valentine’s Day is mating season, a thinly-veiled lie that hides the urge to copulate. A mating ritual passed down through the ages like a genetic disease.
That hybrid of industrial and metal that’s become so popular these days. They’re good at it, but the songs did seem to blend into each other after a while.