Feces Pieces

The greasiest nastiest use of a rhythm section you could imagine, decorated with the wailing of two sawblade throats hollowed out by volcanic ash.

5 inner-city outcasts joined forces to create a sonic force equipped to wage war against boredom, nihilism, constipation, migraine-enemas, hot choclate, Roy Rogers, IBM's deep blue chess machine, teen suicide, and good taste. Release their first collection of rants on the self-titled CD "Feces Pieces."

"Fuck off." - The Wall Street Journal

"They hurt my CD player." - The Economist.

"Go away and piss off." - Billboard Magazine.