I just watched Filter play Jurassitol, among other songs almost as worthy. Between the manic injured Banshee wails of Richard Patrick, to the molasses-vein pulsing throb of the bass, to the jagged razor staccato of the guitars, to the precision machine gun scalpel of the drums, I have to say, they still have it. They tore quite a few memories back from the depths, of smoky clubs, yesteryear’s angst, and a sweet smile forgotten.
