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Carried by the burning echo, in the depths of a summer dull stellar smothering night bathed in alabama’s dust ruddy light, come the chards of the ancient story. Phil Anslemo, quietly sat between the darkness and the light of an improbable deserted wiskey bar, without thinking about it, was spitting a few drops of the pallid beer he likes on the head of a sated rattlesnake. The irritated reptile brutally rose up in three strident hisses and a wide wound flawed the soil. From the bosom of the impenetrable hole’s obscurity, a gleam shivered. Hetfield, haloed in black light, his left hand plunged in his chest slowly emerged. He ripped of a piece from his heart and it is said that the air still remembers the scream from his throat that turned the bloody piece of meat into a golden tit. This was to be known as the ultimate offering to Ruyter Suys. If you are part of those who consider that story to have nothing to do with the birth of the stoner sound of The Mistaken Sons Of Alabama, never forget that the mistake runs deeper than you know
En 2009, l'âme accrochée au vent brûlant du désert d'Alabama, Ol fait vibrer sa guitare de quelques accords aux tonalités stoner. Bientôt rejoint par Mitch, Tuco et Seb et Oncle Phil, The Mistaken Sons of Alabama sont prêts répandre la bonne parole du Rock Sudiste. Iyehaw !!!.