ANOTHER DAY

a rush of notes, like a daydream spedup,  a madman on the guitar.  A broken string catches light , a silver arc of uselessness.  The stage bows under relentless soundscapes.  Shirtless, muscleless, colorless, like a modern day golum, the madman squint-stares at the ceiling, a creature from the caves.  A scattering of  tattoos, unreadable ciphers .  The drummer . . . → Read More: Brian Jonestown Massacre