Creation Books If only one tenth of this book is true, then Zodiac Mindwarp and the Love Reaction are still the most dangerous band that ever walked the face of the Earth, sex monsters and thrill killers let loose in an endless amphetamine circus of rolling, rocking debauchery set to the throbbing, all consuming beat, stench, and roar of their hypnotically heroic mid 80's sleaze metal. "Probably the only time we weren't breaking the law was when we were asleep", Mark explains in the first few pages. "And even then, falling asleep drunk, drug hard dick still speared in some Yank skank's shitty buggery socket, Cobalt had managed to commit statutory rape while asleep on the job. Or was it me? Who cares?" Things spiral downward from there. Trent Reznor and Motley Crue have nothing on Zodiac Mindwarp. Love Reaction fans expecting any cohesive biographical information, line-up explanations, discographies or time lines can just forget it, because the facts of the case have been kicked to the gutter with steel tipped boots, and it's safe to say that if that's the kind of book you were looking for, than you'd probably be scoffed at and summarily dismissed by the vicious thugs in the Love Reaction anyway. This was not a band that formed to make records, rock stages globally, and raise the bar, if only briefly, for just how knife wieldingly fierce a rock band can be. They did all that, of course, but that was mostly by accident. What they were really after was shooting green lasers out of their eyes and blowing up topless nuns; fighting Ninjas with microphone Nunchakas; touring Germany sporting the finest in vintage SS flashwear; showing up at morning talk shows in France with fresh cum stains on their already filth encrusted AC/DC t-shirts and leering at the perky host who recoils at the smells and sounds of the crazed rock savages, but ends up duct taped to the floor of their bus anyway; and, of course, fucking as many "punk rock bitches" as possible. This is the story that's splayed out in neo-Beatnik glory all over the pages of "Confessions." Sure, there's a poignant moment here and there, but they¹re quickly swallowed up in the next firestorm of atrocity. Whether you truly want to be Fucked By Rock, or you're just an armchair Libertine looking for vicarious rock thrills, this is the lizard skinned Bible on how to get it right.