The sound of a band falling down the stairs as a ranting, deranged derelict recites freeform poetry. Not for the faint of heart, this ramshackle clatter starts to make some kind of transcendental sense in spite of itself if you stick with it. How else to account for its cult status? Guaranteed to kill any party in one fell swoop or to get those late night lingering guests to finally get the hell out of your apartment so you can get to sleep. I once declared it to be a work of raw, unfiltered genius. Right now it's goddamn irritating. But there you go, that's the Captain for you. Sometimes you get it, sometimes you don't.
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