One man band delivering dangerously unhealthy doses of irradiated rock and roll horror stomp since 2004 and STILL not dead!
Atomically charged tentacles slithering up from some tar pit of black ooze buried deep in the mojave desert, unleashing groovy fiendish tunes for the strange,
cold, and lonely!
Psychotic mutants anywhere and everywhere gather round and wait for the terror to begin as the squareheads on planet earth wander around clueless!
Some mortals have labeled Alex Machine "the soundtrack to a B-horror bomb played at warp speed in a drive-in full of necking zombies"
"carnivorous, catchy, totally over the edge and gone, yet incredibly cool!"
Yeah, you say, but just who or what is this THING... Alex Machine?
He's a way out and pretty much undead singer, songwriter and all-around hellbound sh*tkicker... Yeah, a real cowboy son of a gun that brings it all together and hammers the final nail of your coffin in tight. Just listen to him banging the hell out of that raggedy modified gretsch axe jacked into some old stompboxes freshly exhumed from the grave; festering beats out of a low grade drumset most people wouldn't touch for the second skin of cobwebs and mold over it; or plucking notes from a greasy viola bass's dirty throat... and adding enough moog weirdness and alien theremin to the mix to choke a wild stampede of wannabees dead in their tracks... recording his favorite nightmares and out-of-control emotions in an unearthly studio somewhere in that big desert he so fondly howls about.