Deep in the sludgy gutters of Austin, Texas, lies a visceral sound of trembling lows and smokey highs. Succulent saxophone and sibilant screams. A constant reminder of existential dread and animosity. A group emerges as a stoner with a 7-string, a very pissed off woman, a sexy sax man, and a huge disappointment. We’re Throat Piss, we’re heavy, and we don’t take anything seriously.