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“They're the sound of spiralling petrol prices, political scandal, a ready supply of the drug of your choice, botched invasion attempts, one raised finger to the man and fucking it all. They fly that freak flag up on high and into the sky. Swaying like the breeze, mind whistling like leaves, Amish beards and anti-establishment grooves – if there is anything lacking from our apocalypse envisioned in childhood, it's in the sights they bring to our feverish minds – the second coming Rogerthat style. The breath of fresh air we needed. Walking the water and swimming the land. If ever there is a diagonal slide into sweet oblivion that needed magnifying with guitar, bass, drum and electrified amp.” www.blogspot/spoz.com