Eye liner running in sweaty smears down his cheeks, Razmo spasms like a preacher possessed by forces unknown. With octave-hopping vocal gymnastics he spits his lyrics (‘if I was an alligator, I’d be so snappy in conversation’) like a circus performer spits fire. The keyboardist hops from foot to foot, a joy-struck imp on a hot tin roof, all the while bassist Sebastian leans against the wall of The Thomas House’s basement venue, coolness made man. More »
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