HOME TOWN: Los Angeles, CA
New. Dead. Radio. Bio. [–010^11001]. Burning with the scream of The Modern Man and his dedicated trek toward extinction. New Dead Radio are mercenaries conducting commando raids on the archaic fossil of rock & roll…lighting up the painted husk with deathbags-o-dust and kaleidoscope munitions. Insert disc into audio device. Hark; when I hear the music of New Dead Radio, I hear the distorted bacchanal of martial dirges, fluttering in the Wasteland between damaged synapses and the motor-combustion clank of malfunctioning organic machines. I hear it mirrored in the raw crunch of sawed-off guitars as they grind, buzz, & squawk in elliptical orbits that never complete their jaunt. I hear it in the dementoid, unprocessed carnival bark of the vocals...packed with bile and surging with disgusto. And most of all, I hear it in the unrelenting pummel of a rhythm section forged in the engine room of the Rorschach Underworld…as they marshal Grey Spirits into a malfunctioning dervish. This is New Dead Radio—Coup d’etat FM—broadcasting at May Day-Call Frequencies from the Leaning-Tower of Los Angeles, CA…at Negative -100,000 Watts. Fahrenheit fuzz in the Electro-Magnetic Spectacle…crippled squelch and binary codes broken and drooping like elephant ears in the SunShower-NumberHole of Daylight and Nightknife. Theirs are lives burning with the scream of postmodern-cavemen freaking in the face of modern technology, alternately toying with the Future Switches and attempting to destroy the Owl-Eyed Circuitry of all the things we are sold…and all the things we’ll never have money to buy…lost in the static of a numberless forever and detuned to the melody of destruction. Burn on.