PURE HELL grows from a place of frustration and desire. Drawing influence from the growls of Raw Power and the howls of Soul Brother No. 1, spirited portraits of Street-Stompers twist N’ shout looking for a release. Inside PURE HELL the figures are off the dog collar with a bone to pick. Flesh transforms into masks adorned with war paint and threads are razor sharp. The Night-Prowlers are dressed to kill. Paint runs like an out-of-tune solo; a last-ditch frenzy caked on like cheap make-up. Brushstrokes animate the monkey on the back and record the unscratchable itch. Underneath PURE HELL is an urge to unleash. The house has burned down and what’s lying beneath the ash is waiting around the corner.