Two men. One drum kit. One bass guitar. Noise rock with a dash of punk and a hint of wrong. A small man in a tweed suit. A
largeman in a King Diamond t-shirt. The unmistakable stench of bitterness and shame. The unmistakable sound of horridness
andimpotent rage. A slap-up dinner at the Raj Pavilion. A calamitous bath-ride down the hill of despair. A ghastly racket to raise
thespirits. And then lower them again.
