From the plimp strut of Pam Haasen:
Big Sturge’s aquarian guitar heeds a cumulonimbus warning. Low rumbling thunder resides in the near future and if I were a betting man, I’d put twenty across the board on a storm. Near is the rumble, with strings drawn out to bode a “brewing”. Get off your hog and walk it to the cabin with the light in the window. Refuge comes with Side B, for you’ve discovered it was a light behind those clouds. From that mountain above you where the fog surrounds the peak comes a holler of “help!” The loop behind it all disintegrates, the guitar begins plimping and you’ve found an old baseball mitt and bottle of Scotch while looking for a pack of waterproof matches.