Ed. Note: To try and speak clearly of the ribald history of Tim Kasher and his six-stringed exorcism, Cursive would be an insult to the blood-sweating endeavor. His work is a torturous wonder of alcohol, pain and invention that’s spanned two decades of struggling devotion to a thankless craft in pursuit of…redemption, I guess? It’s hard to say. Sometimes I think the man’s dug himself so deep into the decadent treachery of Artaud that pain is all he’s got to live and keep beside him in the cold comfort of imprudence. That being said, I wonder why on earth Cursive would take to the road supported by the whirling rock and roll dirt bike kids of Beach Slang but…wait, is that the dude from Weston? HOLY SHIT, IT IS! Awesome. And these Twinsmith cats are some seriously new crush ruffians on a wind-swept Saddle Creek pride flag. Damn, man. This road crew is the shit. I’m a little surprised El Jefe was able to walk out of the Echo with all his ribs. And, now, I guess I don’t know Tim Kasher at all or maybe I just knew him when his time was roared out alongside the likes of Mastodon and The Blood Brothers. Maybe, he’s finally spent on displeasure and hell bent on spreading some good, good times shoring up that Ugly Organ of his for love and affection across America. From the evidence provided, it looks like he just might be. Beach Slang and Twinsmith sure as shit are and Ben is still beaming out there over the Pacific so let’s all just forget that French surrealist shit and soak rock in like we’re too long in love. Let’s just dig, if you will, these pictures.