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Rating: Warm sand of the Texan desert, I believe warm Texan metropolises. Heat, oil, industries, and people playing to eliminate that all-American smell of fast food and gas stations.
Sand thrown into the air, covering messengers from space. Hawkwind transformed into cartoons, Neu after a sandy storm of Vox amplifiers.
Our heroes believe they are playing space rock, but they are full of a succulent taste of peyote.
Peyote, the door to truths, so they play an incredibly acid psychedelic garage, amphetamine-like, with a peppery kick in the ass orbiting from the 13 Floor Elevators after a 1977 taste, heating up the asses of Neu and their chilly companions.
This is an evolving psycho garage record, at times unbearable, noisy, makes you sweat, scratch,
The cover of a UFO on rubble is a business card.
A scorching work, for summers spent on sandy dunes with tequila in hand.
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