Thin Lizzy got snatched their instruments in a frenzy, The Atomic Bitchwax were damned to drag and Brant Bjork's driving the getaway car. Some incredible story? KALAMAHARA's made up one daring plan and is now indulging not only in the sound but also in the haul. Moral? Ethics? That's another matter. We choose a barbecue in hellfire with Hendrix over harp practise with Mother Teresa. This is about essentials, about strings and sense. A wall of noise, that's our spell since no one's been asking for phrases like honest, crafted or down-to-earth since the Rolling Stone's 30th coverage of Woodstock. Those four trade fair city gentlemen devoured groove, inhaled desert dust and explored their fathers' record shelf thoroughly. They are united by their passion for heavy riffs, hustling grooves and their love of distortion and muff. KALAMAHARA trash, shove and saw right through those quivering stage planks, that quake steadily during their show like some grim-purring Vee 8. There are no limits just challenges. Long live the level-eleven volume-control and the old band busses floor pan. It's a long way to the top, if you wanna rock'n'roll. Let's go for a ride!