BackStory
was performed around 93-94 in boston on a hand held by a misfit camp counselor that I like to call 'the fourth pillar' (also known as 'my best friend'). He used to study the rhythms of words, almost philoligically, but really more rhythmaligical - constantly scribbling in memo pads, cutting and pasting his phrases based on the way they rolled off his toungue and later, while divinely inspired by some of the scarier forces this universe has to offer, he would put them to the few power chords he knew(progressions made popular by the seminal band 'the eagles') - thereby creating this strange brand of lo-fi that was never truly discovered - now and then , I try to hint at his dirty stylings because it's like a fucking dead language that would have yielded much supra-goodness to the lovers of love in this soupy mess of shit music.
