IT WASN'T ME IT WAS US

Up in the factory district, through a hole in a fence and along a path lit by glow sticks was the entrance to Extermination Music Night II. Inside, the factory floor was dotted with tea lights and foot candles, and flashlights were popping on and off all over the place. Strange sounds could be heard everywhere: ominous clanging and the smashing of glass peaked over the distant, echoing voices of those who wandered into the factory's darker recesses. It wasn't just the bands who made noise in the wee hours.

Handmade firebombs exploded against the factory walls just as Anagram's set started. The whole place smelled of gasoline, and I felt like the cieling would collapse, and there'd be rubble everywhere, carnage, death, fire and mayhem, but still standing would be Anagram's stoic rhythm section and fearless singer. They could survive a nuclear attack and have enough strength to fire one off themselves.

Rozasia preceded Anagram with apocalytpic flutes piping high above a mad, pulsating bop underneath.

Let's have more of these...