Ultimate ramshackle urgency, cataclysmic parameter shuffling, and brash disregard for your enjoyment—art-lurkers trading in roundabout and tunneled-in rock. TVP, GBV, THC…light emanating in the depths of the tunnel. And if you opt for the Golden Gate, then find yourself on the rainiest side of the bay. RAYS and REPTOIDS and French beatniks for the avant-minded, of a solitary breed of timeless popsters peering on through the space-time continuum. If this is in fact a cut-up, I’ve received confirmation that it is haute couture.