She was born on a ruby sunday in smashing town b. at the river s. not far away from the river h.
After the block and the new kids a rapid interest for functional syntheses of sound was established.
Ignoring any kind of limits, the walk was not too far for aural manic creation.
From glandpop to echoism.
In the tradition of dada, lyrics like: "my crap smells like shit", "boom! crash!! boom!!!" and "nanananananananana" are part of her reflective non-reflexion.
Madame Krach collects noises as bees honey.
Trendsetting blind she follows the path-breaking sound carpet of her intuition.
Bacchanal "hit the pot" arias and cadenced twitters have a premonition of the relation to punk and roger withaker, but to feel out it - not at all.
Pilocka Krach turns data urine into shaked martini with pear.
