"Chin Strap... what can I say about them that wouldn't be cliche? My ears have been bleeding sporadically ever since I saw them play in Kenmore. I'm not sure if it's because I was pushed up against the speaker stack for most of the show or because I got trampled when the police came to break up the riot, but either way, it was fucking METAL." - Mohandas Gandhi, Chin Strap fan
Once upon a time, there was a boy with a dream. He walked the mean streets of Concord for years, dispensing harsh justice with an electric guitar... with an axe attached to it. He was hardcore.
In time, this boy became an unstoppable killing machine. His sweeps were slick, his legato was quick, his alternating fingerpicked licks were sick. He knew every fucking trick, son, all the harmonics, he was ridiculous, a genius, a monster, a master engineer of fear, the unreal deal.
When the Giant Vagina came to eat up Boston, he was our only hope.
The streets deserted, the city in ruins, the Kid Killer stood and stared down his genetalial enemy, whammy bar loaded and cocked, no effects... just the power of Rock. The Vagina attacked and the Kid fired back with a dive bomb so intense that all his strings snapped, lightning cracked and thunder roared as the Earth was torn open and demons poured from the flaming abyss. His nemesis, the Vagina, fell where it stood, and it was done.
He stood over his vanquished foe and asked:
Is your child in McDonald's?