Thrash Or Die Is A Band: Mayonnaise Disciples of Review

thrash or die

Deep from the hills of Caligula rode a horse with no name.  And that name was Thrash.  From the bowels of the Everywhere and the end of the Nowhere. Gnarfeling Garthocks from the hills of Montezuma to the fields of Tripoli.  Galloping gyrating priapysmic Persepolis of perception.  Panopticon of pleasure. Purple people.  Eaters.  And that name was Thrash.

Open to Track 2012.  Truck Turner was a man with a plan and that plan was Panama.  And the name of that plan was Thrash.  Mountains upon mountains of mayonnaise; wandering Muppets of malfeasance.  Pituitary puppets of penultimate progress.  Then why do you call his name?  Whomever begat the beginning and began the begetting.  Retroactively saved.  Radioactively shaved.  Seen through the crawling eye.  The one-eyed wonderer wobbled into town.  With the sunset at his back and the western sky on his trunk.  He wore a hat and his name was stenciled in blood and guts into his cavernous chest.  And that name was Thrash.

Barfing sarcophagus.  Thrash or Die is a diet.  Thrash or Diet will not die.  Vomit induced vomit on a Friday night.  Metal Thrashing Muppets.  Muppet Thrashing Mad.  Vomit till we party.  Party like it’s 1929.  Falling into the ever-loving void.  Named after the one who cannot be named.  And that name was Thrash.

Mountains of morbid mosh potatoes mangle a Moshpit Messiah.  WAKE UP!  The Return of the Thrashlord destroys your spinal cord.  WAKE UP!  A fetal flurry of Fatal Fury and the precise precision of Terrorvision.  WAKE UP!  To the sound of  galloping rage that will nuke your ribcage.  WAKE UP!   To the name that will maim and defame the lame all the way to the heavy metal Hall of Fame.  And that name was Thrash.

That canal was rooted in his tooth.  That tooth was rooted in his face.  That face was rooted in his mind.  That mind was rooted in reality.  That reality was rooted in belief.  That belief was rooted in error.  That error was rooted in faith.  That faith was rooted in progress.  That progress was rooted in death.  That death was rooted in name.  And that name was Thrash.  And that name was Thrash or Die.

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  1. #1 by jorn hammerrat on January 14, 2014 - 4:31 PM

    Needless to say: Thrash with your boots on.
    Oh Holly Satan, this one must be the best review I’ve ever read in my live.

  2. #3 by David on January 14, 2014 - 4:33 PM

    Amazing acts of alliteration! It’s a poetry explosion in the name of thrash!

  3. #5 by Mike Steelreaper Stoker on January 15, 2014 - 1:30 AM

    I cried the tears of Thrash. Thank you for inducing the giggling madness of gilgamesh oh hairy one.

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