Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Brian Thorn and Joe Rogers at Room 17, Brooklyn, New York
When T.J. Cowgill sings, "There ain't a cure for a place so impure," the man who performs under the name of King Dude sets quite a scene that he never clears up. It's a scene littered with broken heads, loose syringes, scabs, dirty snow, the cross, the big God man and his warring partner Satan, paranoia and fantastic discomfort. It's delightfully freaky and dark. It's tortured and fraught with tension. It's impassioned and heavy and it's nothing you'd ever want curling up beside you on the couch, but you will have to remind yourself that you were the one to let all those nasty thoughts and scribbles in through your door in the first place. It's your fault, dude.