s.o.stereo.

“Long, long ago in a time not that long ago there lay a babe… birthed… they called him, bradley. So it is written, his vocal chords solid gold, his sword swift as the wind and his beard thick as the deepest of deep forest. No secrets were left of his birth as kings grew weary, then tales of john.C.phillips.jr flooded the land not unlike the sea. Born of both electricity and invention came john and his king guitar of kismet. The two came together in education in spite of knowing the fate of their plight to form what would become, limitless. In other words, it would have no limits. As legend grew, so did the legion of musical dragon slayers. Far, far away in a village down the street there were a mother and father of the new, and last, child. jimmy.james lie still, atop the rocky hills in the midst of the ageless storm. Not until that night had a child ever braved the eastward wind as they came from the west. The path, decided, perhaps even destined, by said wind carried the newborn until he found himself in the arms of b.s.FURR. As they wept with their drums, skins and bass devices in hand they found themselves void of any direction finding comfort only in the course resolutely driven by the wind. These same winds would go on to carry the loft of the western dragon slayers, bradley and john.C.phillips.jr, high enough for jimmy.james and b.s.FURR to see in the light of day. In the cabin not yet built the four of them decorated the walls of what would soon become, s.o.stereo. In other words, save.our.stereo.”