Like spitting in the streets of New York, like shitty dogs that are avoided, like the
heat that sticks to the skin of a summer in France, their sound is filthy and metallic.
Hard and violent like the blade of a flick knife. Tough and fast, Pilot on Mars, the
most unhealthy group of Geneva, in trio, will try the exercise of the unplugged ...
and the race, we will go to the ride, the rise of speed, we will go on a trip under
opium. Drugs, mixtures and strange sex. Screaming like James Chance's
saxophone, stammering like the voice of Alan Vega. Good way to discover these
three social cases if you had never seen them in real life!
