This is the sound of drowning in your own lungs. This is concussion and suffocation, the shambolic waste of the perpetual drunk thrashing desperately to stay afloat and swallowing greedily when he slips under the surface. This is the hacking, dry-heaving moment of willful, welcome negation. This is the long unbroken stare into crusted weary eyes that wonder at still being alive despite the self-inflicted damage. This is the horrific splendor of Swans during the dying days of the '80s, when they were killing themselves to create... More >>>