I would not be amiss in assuming that time spent with hippy-jam outfit
Sun Araw would be akin to the frequent conversations I end up having with the spiritually-leaning alternative rock show promoter who attends the same gym as me.
"I balance rocks on top of one another when I'm meditating in the desert," he proclaims proudly.
"It keeps me connected to the earth's energy." The only energy you're plugged into,
I contemplate replying, is the Electric Brainwave of Retardville, you Guatemalan-vest-wearing dipshit. If he ever wrote a song as powerful as
Horse Steppin', I'd be inclined to agree with his quasi-religious mumbo jumbo. Create a tune as mesmerizing as this and you can pile 8 tons of boulders on your fucking hairy-ass nuts, for all I care. But no, I have to endure his Tibet-styled bowing-to-the-sun-lion yoga poses right before he retires to his art studio where he whips up pretentious sculptures of sci-fi goddesses and oddly homoerotic male torsos. It leaves me asking myself,
Who Would Jesus Shun?
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