Raw and Wet, Dirty and Cold
So I was sleeping the other night and I was a glass robot full of steam but I had a lizard tail, coursing with cold blood and huge tiger claws and obviously, a hot wolf soul floating somewhere between humanism and animism. Smokin’ D said to me, ‘Hey, WH, what is it with you and Slim being all, oh drugs, we remember you?’ I said, face, Hot Dick, face.
There are many reasons for the way we have been acting of late and let me assure you that it isn’t drug related. Seeing Monotonix a few weeks back has confirmed for me what I have been pushing all along; being strange and hideous becomes attractive at some point, even if only to the person being strange and hideous. It was great to see another band really taking hold of the world and cramming their figurative and literal crotch into it, again and again and again. Sleep isn’t really an option of late and that may well have something to do with the way that I’m up all hours, yelling at the bats outside and chasing down wild rats to gamble with. There has also been the whole undead thing which I really can’t get into but for those that are in the know, help a man out, bring me some kind of blessed switch blade and a jug of sacramental wine. Two fifths of gin with holy water on ice would also be cool.
We have Black Cherry this Saturday night, with those sweet beefcakes, The Rumjacks and a whole bevvy of beautiful bands and burlesque bastards. Get down to the Factory Theatre if you can make it to Sydney town for the evening. You can’t stay at my place, but I would be quite happy to spend the night in the gutter with anyone who needs a place to crash.
Work on the album continues. More news on this, March 27.