Zack Orion
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about
A gnarly one man band with a bastard banjo and double kick flip break beats, eating to play and playing to eat from the half awakened serpent in the crown chakra to his back feet. A soup that started in the African sands, whipped through Asia, boomeranged back through the Middle East, climbed the Carpathian mountains and screamed the Atlantic, legs still in a sprint, only to skid through an abandoned train tunnel cutting through the Appalachian hills, tumbling tumbling and finally resting at the bottom of the Mississippi, staring a carp in the eye asking for a taste of that crucial mud.