333

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MyGen

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Have you ever wondered what it would sound like to

fuck a stranger on the floor of a gas station

bathroom? Perhaps you have wondered to yourself what

that smell is that lingers wherever you go. The

answers to these mysteries aren't beyond reach nor are

they eternal questions that should plague humanity

into war after war. Heres a hint. 333. No, not the

trinity. Its a wang dang rock band. The once dumbly

called Triple Three has come to pull down your shorts

with a loving nightmare they call music.

Offering up lullabies for a strong bellied, work-a-day

community 333 prove that corporate slaves don't always

need Viagra. This strangely erotic foursome will

chick moan and man howl their way into your hearts and

homes with little effort. This pop/rock-rooted

onslaught dented with left over drugs like swill has

accessibility that most odd rock groups tend to fall

short. Without the normal curse of an over abundance

of social awareness this 333 creature uses its tongue

and cheek antics in a lead by example form.

Yes, rock has been done before. Yes, guitars and chick

singers are too normal to be cool. Isn't that the

idea? Isn't that what we all do? Like the Japanese

adding 'record' and 'fast forward' to our VCRs, 333 have

carved out their own slot of improvements in the

modern music gangbang. Putting the honesty and flow

back where it belongs, in the music itself. No member

stands above the other. Its the oddest thing. The

chick is a member not a leader and for you rock freaks

the men growl you into satisfaction. A true community

of perverse distinction is the 333.

I welcome you to this quadruple threat known as 333.

Pull out your crotch and rock that stroke. This is

rock, baby, like fingering yourself at a funeral.