Much like skinning cats, there's more than one memorable way to scream in a song. There's the artfully abrasive method -- a full-throated screech with enough primal intensity to make Edvard Munch stop and stare. There's the discordant and painfully deranged animal cry: Think of a confused Jim Morrison wailing at his most repulsively graphic demons in purple-microdot-enhanced widescreen. There's the chilling but oddly erotic caterwauling of icy Diamada Galas, who, while climaxing hysterically atop Lucifer's battering ram, issues unearthly sounds that could peel paint off the walls. And there's the deadly bait-and-switch bellow of unblinking Johnny Rotten, who favored smiling -- then lunging like a Doberman for the Queen... More >>>
The Blood Brothers never say neigh to sex with a horse.