Two guys, bass, drums, heavy swampy blues-rock. A Dodge Charger boosted with amphetamines. A soundtrack that oozes sweat and testosterone. Primitive garage rock. The duo fronts blues rock as if they'd robb a bank: brutally, without concessions. Drums beated like a fairground punching ball, a bass (no guitar) that impels in Lemmy mode, a polished voice to the coarse emery cloth. Somewhere between Tom Waits, The Monsters and The Black Keys, Buck was born for the scene: freedom, spontaneity, efficiency.