KROKUS ON LIFE 'N' STUFF!
Rumplemeyer’s is a New York institution, all decked out in cotton candy pink and servin’ up the most dee-sgusting ice cream sundaes you ever laid eyes on. It’s the last place I’d expect to be sitting opposite Swiss guitarmeister Fernando von Arb from those Midnite Maniacs who call themselves Krokus.
KROKUS ON LIFE 'N' STUFF!
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David Keeps
Rumplemeyer’s is a New York institution, all decked out in cotton candy pink and servin’ up the most dee-sgusting ice cream sundaes you ever laid eyes on. It’s the last place I’d expect to be sitting opposite Swiss guitarmeister Fernando von Arb from those Midnite Maniacs who call themselves Krokus. I am further surprised to discover that I have to explain to a gen-yoo-ine European just what the hell a frozen chocolate eclair is. So you can just imagine my shock when the blond, surprisingly sober axeman tells me, “We can talk about whatever you want. Whatever concerns us, it doesn’t even have to be rock ’n’ roll.”
Hey, I could get to like this guy! Let’s go right out on a limb and get avantgarde, shall we? “That’s going to be good. No problem!” Fern replies in his charmingly fractured English, but I’m still not sure whether he’s talking about the eclair. So away we go...
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