Some time in the dead of a Flint, Michigan winter, The Boss and The Coug were drinking draft Coors in a dive bar. In stumbles Tom Waits and sprays whiskey in their faces, cursing them and chastising their lack of depth and innovation in the past decade. What followed was a long and bawdy drinking, cussing, battle of wits that lead the trio to stumble into a recording studio populated by a few local kids. All three of them sobered up a few weeks later...
Festival Of The Sun
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