A power trio of sonic expressionism, outlined across the pages of beatnik adjectives & the chaotic theories of a barfly. The pulsating reverb of deep blues dripping, from the salivating tongue of thirst, which ripples, downstream into the nervous system of volume, distorting the ears, nose & throat with exiled fragmentations, intangible to the naked welfare of diplomacy. Its rooted country of majesty, acoustically textured with the frost of aluminum liquid that quenches the poetry of the liver & caresses the internal reflection of salvation, madding in it’s execution, but fragile to the fingertip’s touch. The tormented haunting of the sacred steps, staggering, shadowing the heart of the north & the guilt free drawl of the south, into a tax free synopsis of composition, ferociously lyrical, with the black humor of a one eyed balladeer, striking the lament of the hopeless romantic & mocking the insidious scars that wound an empty bottle, like a mark of Cain, placed economically, through the loop hole of the noose, hung, drawn & quartered, by a free governed democracy, with the sight, sound & mind of electric desolation.
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Zodiac Woman
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