Tag: organ grinder
From the suspicious hunch of Jesse Locke:
Craig Storm and his seasick sailors of the good ship Gooey bob, surf and wooze through puddles of organ-fried carnival candy paisley-pop puke on this cavity-rotting platter from the Cave. Moving past deadpan and directly onto dead, Storm sounds like he’d rather be filing his T4s than fronting this squadron of subterranean vets, roping in past and present card carrying members of Gaye Rage, Grown Ups and the mammy slappin’ Topless Mongos. Whether flipping herky jerk tempos like BBQ burgers or dipping scuba dive keys like the B-52s, this is the dictionary definition of quintessential, kiddies.