A Pack of Wolves: the sound of late nights, tight jeans and urban decay. A world where malfunctioning laptops attempt to assuage bleary eyebags and unruly facial hair with beats from the late-century ennui songbook. Where Morrissey rides a fixed gear and opens for the Faint in a basement somewhere in the Midwest, where the sweat drips from the bricks just as salty and flat as the leftover PBRs from the night before.
Eden Mazzola and Francesco Catania are this pack unto themselves, raised on rhythm and propelled by temptation. They’ve shedded the suede duds of yesteryear for the prowling pulse of gold lamé, and they’re headed to take hostage the hoariest writhing bodies full of bloody guts, teenage venom and useless resistance. Drums vs. Guitar, Casio vs. Korg, Mac vs. PC—and now, you vs. A Pack of Wolves. It’s Round One, m’fers. Let the pain begin.