At first all that screaming in “”Pieces, et al.” sounds violent. Some of the lines shrieked (think Sam Kinison moments after being forcibly castrato-ed sans anasthesia) over the incongruously laid-back guitar pulse sound more than menacing. Is that a “die motherfucker”? A “six six six”? But a quick review of the lyrics posted on the band’s MySpace page reveals there’s no malice here. That mark of the beast you thought you heard was really a “sex –ex, sexual,” because “Pieces” is a soundtrack not for a ritual satanic sacrifice but for sweat-staining the silk sheets. “I know you need it, you know I want it,” the song continues; crooned, it’d be pure Luther Vandross. “Your mouth is a sex-rusted deathtrap/Lord, I’ll make it clean.” You honey-tongued charmers, you. I bet you say that to all your captives.
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