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Rock 'n' Roll in the early 21st century... A cold and desolate place. A barren wasteland of tight pants, loose shirts and lets face it, extremely creepy facial hair. It is a world so devoid of inspiration that instead of trying to make their own way, as did their idols, people are merely copying their idols, seemingly trying to become them by recycling melodies and riffs then throwing it all together with no real insight or passion.
But there is hope. A few sparks of life remain. One such is the Chimaeric monster known as The Murderballs.
In Greek mythology, the chimaera is in imense creature, cobbled together from a lion, a bull, a goat, a snake and a dragon. In the same way, The Murderballs take inspiration from punk, funk, metal, rockabilly and any other style of music which might fit at the time. The result is a ridiculous, high powered wall of idiocy, which numbs the brain and forces you to join in on the girlish yelps and removal of one's clothing.
Tune after tune is belted out and "belted" is the right word for it. On songs such as "One track Mind," and "In the Pocket," Kent drives the assault, slapping his bass like it owes him money. Lenny keeps things moving with his skillful drum rolls and rhythms, really showing his prowess on songs such as "The Bottle," and "Wolfman Hop." Last and most likely the least Jesse glues the whole mess together with his shreiking, thrashy punkabilly riffs and his birdlike singing voice. Like a rancid cockatoo, he croons the lyrics like, "Don't be afraid of my monky love gun," and no one can turn away.
With an uncontrollable urge to play and an energy which defies logic, The Murderballs will not, nay, cannot stop until rock 'n' roll is saved from the mundane and once again takes its rightful place as king. Only then will Jesse, Kent and Lenny be content to fade away into rock 'n' roll history. Either that or become cult heroes...