This band sees a chandelier hanging from the center of a ceiling and it immediately starts wondering how well it's anchored into that ceiling. It wonders what kind of force it would take to get that thing loose. It wonders how exactly it would look on the floor, busted into a million little pieces. None of this would be done with the sole purpose of destruction, but more with the thought that our time here on Earth is short and one of the things that seems like it would be wild and satisfying to do at least once would be to pull a chandelier clean from the ceiling and then dance on the shards and splinters, in the middle of a spectacular lighting storm.
It would be great if the winds are kicking up as all of this is going down and it would be even better if the winds created a physical pressure in the room that makes all of the windows feel as if they were bowing in, straining to keep the howling shit outside, giving you enough time to finish that chandelier off, shielding you from any obstructions. The building that houses that uppity chandelier wants it to meet its end too and it's doing everything it can to give you the time that you need.
Slam Dunk is the kind of band that is out for a good time. It's out for stirring up some trouble. It's up for screaming at the top of its lungs. It's up for being snotty and obstinate. It's up for making the bats fly around the room, for letting the dogs bark at the ends of their chains. It's up for taking a punch. It's up for tantalizing the fire, for worshipping the blackness. In listening, it feels like you're delivered somewhere that thrills you, somewhere that you're petrified of staying too long in. It's blood rushing quicker than it's rushed in a while. Everything is flush with it. It rages like a flood. It's hedonistic, so gloriously hedonistic. It's seeing a huge cake sitting on the table and being torn between wanting to eat it all or dive into it headfirst and see what kind of a mess you can make.
Slam Dunk Official Site