In late 2011 I traveled up to the Pleistocene to race my Pegasus against a real bitch-ass of a debt-ridden bounty-hunter and his gangly pteranodon. Infuriatingly, this tailless punk and his daddy held a rather misinformed bias against all Pegasi, and body-checked us into a xenon-spiked mountain after the third lap. We still won the race and Fat Fett paid up, but I had broken my collarbone.
A considerable two months after the cast was removed, I remained more or less impotent in the shoulder. Determinedly, I set off to create music in the name of physical therapy. "Bodyslam Banshee" embodies my parallel attitudes towards violence, gambling, danger, and supramythological street competition.