Oh! But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge!
A squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner!
Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out generous fire;
Secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster.
The cold within him froze his old features, made his eyes red, his thin lips blue;
And spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice.
He carried his own low temperature always about with him;
He iced his office in the dog-days; and didn’t thaw it one degree at Christmas.
I wish to be left alone.
Every idiot who goes about with Merry Christmas on his lips should be boiled with his own pudding,
And buried with a stake of holly through his heart.
Prehistoric Doom from an age of terrifying beasts. A moste potent, riff-worshiping two-man conjuration filled with Iommic Black Magicks. Lead Witch is our venerable producer. Scrooge
Fellow passengers to the grave and men of the worldly mind, these exceedingly handsome lads from Los Angeles understand Heavy. Take heed, adherents of Desert, Stoner, Heavy Psych, and Garage. Scrooge
The Belgian band explore heavy psych, tribal rhythms, free-jazz freakouts, meditative drone and the vast, shadowy spaces in between. Bandcamp Album of the Day Jun 22, 2020