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>>>> linernotes from "confession" mini-cd by w.w.cage



I really didn't know what to expect. The flyer I got from a friend just said: Hotguitars, an XXX experiment in mass mind control and mustard panic.

When I got to the venue I found out I was not on the guest list. Nice. I took some owl drops just to nurse my dreadful hangover. Ok, that's better. And then the lights went out. It's not that I couldn't remember what happened, it's just that I can't really find the words to describe the whole incident. Was it nauseating? Yes. Painful? Definitely. Just put all the Japanese noise carnage in a blender, add some lousy German speedmetal, spice it up with illegal third world prescription drugs and dementia... and you prabably get pretty close. I had to get out of there.

And as I was waiting for the cab on 75th Leonard avenue, totally disappointed of not getting my daily dose of indie guitar twang and garage tunage, a dangly dark figure creeps towards me, spits at me and whispers in my bleeding left ear: " Let's poke yer eyes out, baby..."

Ladies and gentlemen, here's Hotguitars.
W.W. Cage