Mariachi (FR)

Concert on the high seas. On the ground amidst the landmines. Controlled cluster noise from frequency mountains and drone sounds. Bytes, crackling, whirring, St. Elmo's firework, single-coil switches, not too much distortion in the upper midrange, hooks crying out to the wind, the hull handles it easy. One with the wood and the six strings. I sail myself free... A glance over the bow, where a guy with a Jesus haircut, crucifix and beer gut, tattoos, biker jacket, and greasy hair is wandering around - shit, did I hire him for this? Did I slave away as a ship's maid to save up for this fat amp for my carefully dosed feedback loops? No, I always thought the Stones were sh** and all those other testosterone-driven metal power-chord a***. And you, Jesus, won't hear a single sound from me that sounds anything like that. Ah, you're not even here anymore - probably already below deck. You're probably ordering a Mariachi, it's the right weather for it... Uh, okay... Beer gut is a jazz fan and swimming over to the Rodelberg. Ahoy, captain!