Whenever my best pal was able to get time off from his shitty proofreading job in Norcross, GA, he would come back to Virginia for a visit. Along the way, Greensboro often served as a stopping point for fuel and nourishment. It was during one of these cheap-grade unleaded sessions that John noticed the drunken winos sleeping on the railroad tracks. A quick observation of the surrounding structures revealed burned-out, abandoned edifices. He left Greensboro that morning with the overall impression of the place as an industrial wasteland. One day, I asked John what city was going to be the next Seattle. His answer: Greensboro. Say hello to the new Nirvana. Okay, not quite, but if this "wasteland" suddenly became all the hype, Ubangi Stomp would be the cornerstone act. These four incisions owe more to Joey Ramone and Johnny Thunders than the Guana Batz siphoning gas for their stolen hearse. When you give the track barkeep a $20 bill, you don't get any change.
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