My health and beauty regimen recently included the Snapcase show on 12/8 whereby every dirt molecule nestled into my face's pores was vibrated out of my face and into oblivion, wherever that might be. Before they took the stage with ferocious abandon they had a tape loop of searingly loud percussive machine noise which was beautiful. It went on for fifteen minutes. In that span of time I wondered if my lungs might collapse, or my face would freeze in a permanent grimace, or if I might faint - as I was much closer than other humans at the venue, being in the pit. Recently Snapcase's management bought images of mine for a British mag and other bandly purposes.
A final thought, emanating forth from this middling city (tossed in for lead fan who pondered if my novel will be called This Middling City) Tora Bora - was that name made up for this war, a spunky truncated name easy for Westerners to pronounce?