Chaos Delivery Machine Bio:
Whatever feats, trials, or sufferings you’ve recorded in the pages of your biography that you point to as testaments of the mettle by which you measure your quality, accept now these crucibles merit you absolutely nothing of value. Throw all of that shit away. To bend an ear to the noise would annihilate everything you think you know and believe about your life and the sphere of existence in which that story is set. Indeed, it would provoke a moral, philosophical, and intellectual devolution too sudden and irreversible to conceive. This will uncover the great sham of petty notions like “person,” “self,” and “civilization,” unraveling 20,000 generations worth of “evolution” from dung-flinging chimp to homo sapien wastrel in 45 minutes of cacophony. This is the sophomore album that has taken 87,613 hours to complete and is titled BURN MOTHERFUCKER, BURN which they hope your mind and soul and every fiber of your being along with the rest of this sick and pitiful world will do immediately after the first listen. Verily, this is but the reflection in your mirror: a primate with a hat and a lengthy vocabulary who sees not his toes are at the brink of the abyss.