Author of his own crack, gathering/dragging out rhyme and sounds among the most untamed and joggled of this planet. In clandestine workhouses of Brooklyn, stitching together his sonic patchwork (Freylekhs ruined by Noire, Adulterated Polkas drunk with Bat-Cave Swing, Kasbek-Krakowiak-Bluegrass ripped-up for Coarse Tangos, tattered Waltzes hoarse and swerving from way too much Vinho Verde, Psychotic Klezmers turned Golem-Punk on wild beat posts) after submitting them to the demanding gazes of his chiseled experts of the taraf (the aptly named Bill Pace & Benjahman Ironside...

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