A full moon hung low in the sky, while Stinking Lizaveta, a pack of wild men from Philadelphia, let the freak flag fly for an eclectic group of punk rock elders at the Hole in the Wall. Brothers Yanni and Alexi Papadopoulos jumped, clutching their instruments like tiny rodents they'd snared in the underbrush. Drummer Cheshire Agusta snapped the whip behind her trap-kit like she was locked in a cage with a pair of rabid lions.

Goddamn, it's good to see a power trio in this age of calculated image and self-conscious cynicism who can drop trou' and put their entire ass into lashing out with some exalted chaos for the benefit of all mankind. Quickened with the aiwas of John Coltrane and Jimi Hendrix - whose best solos were not practiced a thousand times in front of the mirror with a metronome - Lizaveta was sloppy and lull of seed. They pulled the rug out from under our egos and smacked us around until we could do nothing but grin stupidly.

May they be the harbingers of a new age of electric warriors. Amen. - CRP