This is primarily the historical record of a band that so far never was, and may never be. Can you hear it? It has been lurking in the wings for decades, centuries, eons. It is the influence of the living, the dead, the unborn, all as one, on one little ‘ol website on one
little ‘ol planet. Here in the Wenatchee River Valley in Washington state, USA, Earth, we don’t go far. We have our own sound, our own voice, our own ideas. The ideas collect forever in buried boxes in neglected closets scattered through the hills and gullies and mountains.
This is Maslow’s Dogs. Listen to us bark and bay and pant and moan and cry. Read our tales of chasing cars and tails. See into our primitive symbolizations and feel the crumbling of our pragmatic definitions of existence; and don’t be late for the party. No, really. Have fun. Thanks for hanging out.
