Brought into this wasteland world, in a shanty-shit town known as San Angelo, from the womb of an amazing woman...Proctor, the Wasteland Warrior, emerges as friend to noise, and nemesis to ear drum. With sharp, callous and heinous drones along with prostate throbbing soundscapes, the world is Proctor's oyster. A rotting, smelly cyst of an oyster. Macabre and debauchery is what Proctor was born for. Orgasmic fumes surround the warrior, and an ectasy of tape manipulation break down the soul, BLACK OVARIAN DEATH MARCH! is the one true organic spiritual element that the human savage inside all of us is waiting to ravage. Capturing the zeitgeist of the darkest corner of the human soul, Proctor will sodomize you and your ailing broken heart, and mend it with his excrutiatingly exciting, vaginal pourage....