Yo La Tengo

ira caplan's sonic squall rips new york's fourth of july gulls from the captivities of silence like a chainsaw through a bough of glass or chalk on yesterday's pavement; a soul possessed by demons determined to explode his body jerks with stock-market indices richter scale on jersey's fretboard; blinding sounds erupt then ribbon out dangling notes along the blue-green themes in a park for homeless evangelists shredding civic programmes deep in a feedback dream blooming into atonal squiggles of sound an express blast of manhole heat a peacebomb dropped on america heaving swollen thrashed a loop of pure non-violence & entropy a firework of stars & stripes tearing the sky a new arsehole

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