Somewhere in the abyss where mclusky drowned, the remains reassembled into a clunky goo of seaweed and saltwater. They emerged, fully disfigured and totally cool with it. The same lightsaber cocksucking attitude struggling with the bends. The resulting amalgamation were anointed New Cowboy Builders and took to tiny black fetish material. Black Moses is that visible gnarl of scar tissue and ne’er-a-care. It rocks in all the right areas, breaking pool cues over heads when needed and chugging down a few pints to dull the pain at the shore pub. It’s a sea shanty of contradictions about how rock is interpreted by those who “moved on” and those who still see it as “salvation.” Black Moses has parted the abysmal waters, drudging up a people with a sound we have dearly missed. I’m sloshed.
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