Bulletwolf

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Ripping down strips of Indiana blacktop with a “no cop-no stop” mentality and the pedal pressed firmly to the floorboard, burning octane and rubber like both were going out of style, fast-lane rock n’ roll devastation erupting full-volume from the stereo speakers and quaking you to your very core as the moonlight and night wind lashes in through the windows, witnessing the whiskey-fueled dive bar throwdown and living to tell the tale, escaping the nine-to-five chains of a boring week in the grind by raising totally relentless hell on a Friday night with your rowdy friends and calling for a toast (double-fisted, no less) to pay tribute to all the glorious things you hold so dear in this otherwise god-forsaken existence…more-or-less living fearlessly on the proverbial edge and not giving a second thought to the hangover that awaits. These are the kinds of things that get your blood pumping like a goddamn locomotive drenched in sweat and alcohol. This is the kind of full-throttle, horn-raising, head-banging, fist-pumping rage that brings a mischievous smile to your face. This is the kind of life-affirming decadent chaos you live for. If only you had a worthy soundtrack to go hand-in-hand with your favorite brand of insanity. Well, look no further, my friends. Four dudes from Indianapolis, Indiana are here to ring your fucking bell well past last call.

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