Much like guacamole-flavored potato chips, the music of Brain Transplant don't hardly make no sense to regular folk. You can try to stuff the pigeon into the hole, but you're just going to end up with a mess of blood, feathers and splintered bone. According to Chris Smentkowski, half of the nebulous duo's enormity, "We hardly prepare for our shows at all, nor do we even talk about it beforehand. We've scarcely played together as Brain Transplant apart from performing live. We show up, plug in and trust each other's ability not to do something completely stupid." Since 1998 the irreverent duümvirate has been responsible for no less than unctuously thick Satanic oozings on laptop, forays with STL saxophone madman Dave Stone, a harmonium concerto and countless other assaults too fucked-up to mention. The kids on South Grand still regard them quizzically, so they must be doing something right. Respects can be paid at www.braintransplant.org.