crawling over the half dried puddles of yerba mate on the floor. 4pm time to wake up. the circus classes have already started,ended, the symphony of bands coming in and out of jam rooms creating a dolby 5.1 mashup of quebecois rock, halloween organs, gasps of feedback, beatific layers of samples and voices from kyles room, jimmying coffee crisp bars out of the vending machines, alien intelligence, who's got some toilet paper? how can this secret knowledge get me rich? i sneak into a room to see tim and kyle dueling at unbearable volume under a writhing mass of electronics, custom pedals, spraypainted keyboards, miles of cables - occasionally a foot or thigh revealing itself from within. heh, perfect. i bust out my portable recorder. they are too engaged to notice me as i place it in the room inconspiciously and run to the bank.
Copcar Bonfire VS Flow Child by errhead
