The mysterious tinker, known in some circles as "Bruce" has taken the CROCK guitars to his workshop in mystical Warren, New Jersey. There he worked his magic... after the ritual animal sacrifices, the guitars were boiled in goats' blood & there they were transformed into the soul-crushing machines that they are today. In addition to the ritual stuff, there may or may not have been some string changes going on... maybe a truss rod adjustment. Gramzon was pretty psyched about his new nut too.
Being that "Bruce" was working on the guitars, the ninth of May found many basses at CROCK's door. Lacking of any educational material, the day was simply a low-frequency barrage of poetry. Arbo supplied power (one part Satan, one part really long orange extension cord) & his new electric guitar which complimented the basses well with his trebly goodness.
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