For the times when you feel like going to your friends studio at 11:30 on a Saturday night and nurse a bottle while they just....jam. You're in the corner, pathetic, and they go deep enough into their stoned, sweaty improvisations that they forget you're even there. The howls of "Raised Truck" bury you deeper into the corner until eventually, you sink into the sound and disappear completely. You are just....the room. You are an integral part of the process. The creation. And before the sounds have names, you're flying away. The nine minute one riff one off opus "Wings Of Love" carries you into the night mist before the creators even know that they've drawn the wings with their raw, no-fi drones. And the tape is over. And you wake up at home, but you don't remember how you got there.
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