Tired of the three-and-a-half minute, over-produced, boardroom-vetted pop jingles that monopolize the airwaves today? Plagued by today’s synthetic impersonations of tube distortion, humbuckers, the double kick drum, and that perfect marriage of guitar and keyboard, the keytar?
Sounds like you need to be vaccinated by Money $hott.
Forged by Zeus in the liquid hot magma at Pompeii, hammer-welded and cooled by Thor in the glacial streams of Reykjavik, Money $hott serves up nothing short of 3 hours and 120 decibels of fist-pumping, hand-banging, chest-beating cock rock that will deliver you to a day when acid-washed denim, skin tight leather pants, heavy eyeliner were couture, and Ralph Macchio, Christian Slater, and Anthony Michael Hall were anointed kings.
Money $hott is a quest back in time in search for that Valhalla of decadence embodied by Guns N Roses, Van Halen, Bon Jovi, Journey, Night Ranger, Queen, Kansas, Europe, and Aerosmith. But, we’re not just a middle-of-the-fairway cock rock band. Sprinkled amongst the triumphant barn-burners brought to you by the foregoing are sleepers by The Beastie Boyz, Rage Against the Machine, Michael Jackson, and, yes, you might even get a dash of Salt n’ Pepper or Cypress Hill.
In the words of one music critic: “Money Shott is the culmination of all things over the top; when the hours on the clock indicate the party should be winding down, these guys are turning the volume up for another round. Atlanta’s notoriously bawdy boys of rock make no bones about it, they’re a cover band, but they manage to bring an energy and a finesse to their playing that is definitely steeped in talent.”
Disclaimers: Guests at Money $hott shows have been known to funnel beers, get doused with alcohol, get flashed, and come into close contact with at least one streaker.
Warning: Money $hott can cause sensations of euphoria and hedonism sometimes followed by vomiting, diarrhea, or both (simultaneously on rare occasions). If your Money $hott experience lasts more than 8 hours, call your doctor.
