Maserati - Pyramid of the Sun

By: Tim Baker

My attack on the island was swift.
I unsheathed my sheckle from its shecklesheath and proceeded uphill towards the castle gate. I knew three guards were on duty, yet on duty in that odd state between awake and asleep. As soon as I made quick of their lifeless bodies over the castle walls, I held my breath and listened for sounds of life.
Hearing nothing I made my way through the guard posts and checkpoints and on into the interior of this beast of limestone and steel.
My mission was simple: retrieve the ovaries of my queen and escape unscathed.

*shakes head*

WHAT THE Fuck IS WRONG WITH ME?

Absolutely fucking nothing.

What's this straycat doing here says all you hip cats out there in internetland? I've just been listening to post-rock thuper group, Maserati's latest release, Pyramid of the Sun. Not only is it a soundtrack for the brain, but it's an adventurous one to say the least.
In between awesome guitar effects and riffs and hi-hat-action (or hi-haction) is the distinct feeling that you're about to be victorious in some shit. After playing it through the first few times I had to stop listening to it because I found myself fashioning weapons out of toothbrushes and encouraging friends of mine to scream like we're enjoying a proper pillaging.

Rather than waste your time with words and phrases you probably wouldn't understand, let me summarize the awesome that is this album with the following sentence:

With this album from Maserati, YOU ARE A fucking VIKING STEVEN SEAGAL WEARING NOTHING BUT AN ANIMAL PELT AND YOUR SCHECKLESHEATH.**

**I made up the schekle as a weapon. If it is in fact a real weapon, I assure you my weapon is badasser.