Open head wounds are not matters to build a long-spanning musical career around. Neither is public nudity, flopping one’s wanker out of the pants in front of a captivated audience. Griping amongst your bandmates just leads to acrimony and an inevitable implosion of who-gives-a-shit proportions, owing to them not having been around to have made any dent of any substance. Mythology can be a band’s best friend for some good flashing in the pan, but to actually be cooked into a completed meal or to become a coveted recipe or template that others can look to for guidance takes more than weiners and hocking loogies and bleeding all over stages.