When an earthquake shakes the ground beneath us, we start running. When a bassline shakes the same ground–with the same magnitude–we start laughing and raging.
We broke in a new subwoofer the other day (150 inches–is that legal???) and every single window crumbled to dust. Beach-quality sand, we shit you not. And we’re not complaining about the bill at all–it’s fucking summer and we’re making a mufucking BEACH. Win-win, friends.
Aaaanyway onto the culprate behind our man-made beach: KELLY DEANNNNNNNNN.
This sinister producer guarantees rage-lash (aka rage-induced whiplash) and irregular heart palpitations with every track. We’re more than excited to show you two of our favorites: King Shit & Erryoody Knows Me.
Don’t feel gangster enough for those names? After one listen, you’ll be ready to beat your best friend into a pulp. Since we’re calling our broken glass is a beach …we’ll call this pulp a compost. Yee. That’s some eco-friendly violence right there.
Now get crunk: