Comfort answers to no fashion Queen, and raunchy, sex-minded, worked-tongue-wiping, paid-lap-dance-dirty, baby-makin’ pelvic beats answer to no, conventional, receptive ear. Thunderheist, the Toronto based, globally minded, five-year international outbreak, very much like the cheese, stands alone. None match their sex = sex + more sex-resolved, blood-churning, infectious rhythms, and none do it so devilishly glamorous.

Words… that these are, do absolutely no justice to the concrete weight that, Grahmzilla and Isis effortlessly exhale with every gasping, rhythmic beat present in every one of these five, remixed (save for one) tempting trax.

If it ain’t dirty, it ain’t Thunderheist.

Editor’s note: For this, my 450^th post, I’d like to thank global warming, overly-sensitive neighbors, and hangover victims, but seriously, I’ll thank the unspoken will that fuels so many able, and socially alienated victims… affordable whisky. Dust it off, dear frequenters of PG nonsense… dust it off and jerk it.