Coffin Syrup

by The Furr



Driving with a suspended license in your mom’s Astrovan, windows down with the tape player at ear-bleeding level.

The Furr are there.

The muted thud of drums and pulsing bass line rattling asbestos from the ceiling rafters and seeping out of an unfinished, unheated basement.

The Furr are there.

Your older sister in a black Die Kruezen t-shirt shoplifting CD’s from Mediaplay.

The Furr is her.

You, alone, in your Dodge Dart, at a red light, air drumming and soloing like a maniac under the stare of a semi-disgusted sorority girl in her shiny black escalade.
You make eye contact.
Roll the window down.
And crank it.

You are the Furr. We are the Furr. The Furr is everywhere. The Furr is everyone.

The rockist of all rockist tendencies seethe from this Morgantown, WV foursome who, in the vein of The Breeders, Dinosaur Jr. or Sonic Youth, make gut-punching guitar solos, ace melodies and gritty, direct-to-tape distortion crucial and inestimable contributions in the realm of basement arena-rock.

Remember, every cent spent on this track goes to the Malindza Refugee Camp Library in Mpaka, Swaziland. Your donation ensures the continued maintenance of the library, a small stipend for the refugee volunteer librarians and keeping a beacon of hope and literacy alive and functioning for hundreds of displaced refugees from all over Africa. To learn more about where your donation goes please visit:


released February 28, 2014



all rights reserved


Heligator Records Cincinnati, Ohio

Heligator Records exists to continuously fund the Malindza Refugee Camp Library in Mpaka, Swaziland. Every dollar donated goes to this cause.

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