This Chicago quartet (bass, guitar, sax and drums) lays out a looooooooooooong, sustained, droning intro to this acrid-smelling slab, a teaser that leads into a two-chord purple kush ball crusher that’s heavier than a post-Kuma’s bowel movement, and about as firm. For as heavy as this thing lets…
Sometimes people say really sexist things in school and I get so fucking angry and watch all the other girls just giggle and act like it’s normal.
