Lone bro meandering through post-Irene wasteland, worshipper of the Six String Samurai. Echoes waving in the heat, ghouls floating over empty shells, vengeful riffs churn, slam out a crunchy dirge, escalating to banger of the month. Toms & kick pounding hard. Relentless rhythm for the weary restless. Chaos unfolds in blistering hot sheets, a pulsing psych fury in its wake. It stutters, crumbles in on itself, left to decay in the howling post-apocalypse.