Where the eagle glides ascending, there’s an Ancient River bending, down the timeless gorge of changes, where sleeplessness awaits, I searched out my companions, who were lost in crystal canyons, when the aimless blade of science, slashed the pearly gates. ‘Neil Young’
“Singer tousled rampant locks redolent of Morrison, coolly, nonchalantly flows, takes the floor, to drugged up drubbing beat, sleazy drawling growl subsumed in wall of sound distortion, wafted with heady analogue synth breeze. Unrelentingly doom laden, hypnotised sway, laconic lizard lost in dark inner space, hazed, slipping down the snake, psychotic psychedelic, picking up brighter bluesy note, as sun sets in golden glow, sinking into despondent doldrums as dusk dawns.”
The Fat Angel Sings 