Bump the mids and tap the fuzz. Insert sway, conjure a bounce: jangle, thud, chime. A union hall for proletariat pipe dreams. Soundtracks for the world’s longest lunch break. Friends on amaro. Wind chapped melodies pulled thru the fog conduit. Sounds hung in vaped memory, old friends/new feelings. Music for garbage trucks and the babble of brooks. Anchored in Bay Area garage lust and Montana river rock. Rock for now. Rock however. Taste like always. Rock n’ roll for whomever.
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