Nothing could faze Dressed In Wires. He brought with him bad fortune, right from the first, as could be expected. Not a living soul in all the town was glad to see him. He sat on the back steps of the Hale house, lazily picking at his broken Dell.
DiW's Simondo Topless drags you bleeding and kicking through a tumult of Laptronica, Post-Gabba, Blip-Hop, Glitch-Hop, Chip-Hop, 8-bitronica, Wreckstep, Kronk, Bootmash, Breakcunt, Dub-Bass Splattercore, Harsh Clunge, Fuckstep, Thugstep, Powerpop, Noisewhore, and Wrongtronica, not in any order. All from his souped-up, heavily modded, hacked & cracked laptop, precariously wired together with a few guitar distortion pedals and delapidated Midi tomfoolery.
Playing live, it’s a whole other mighty kettle of fish; rarely pretty, never a beauty contest. Now that fans have actually started bringing in their own unwanted computer equipment for DiW to physically and emotionally abuse, things can only get bloodier.
When the supper was ready, he pushed the children of the household out of the way and served himself a big meal, although there had been barely enough white meat to go round. After eating he settled himself in the best and warmest sleeping place in the front room and was untroubled by dreams.
The Big Black Cock Of Death (DIST4)