As dirty as it can get… Running around naked under the streetlights of an unknown city, it’s way past midnight and we are the mutating wolves of next generation’s disaster, smashing a few rear-view mirrors, puking in front of people’s front doors… we are useless animals screaming in a dark night with some Papaya Fuzz songs in our wasted minds… fucking like beasts under the desperate glance of blurred stars… Papaya Fuzz doesn’t exists anymore as a band, but their records keep burning amplifiers… The band buried itself in huge party at the legendary Fri-Son in Fribourg… some mexican funerals full of sugar and colors… a mad, loud, intense and joyful procession through the night.
Subterranean frantic voodoo magic / Animal Moon Rising /Samba skull's danger