NNMaddox is a revolutionary. Make no mistake about it. He's fronted successful bands. He's a radio star, the founder of 14mercy, the producer of award-nominated albums and an inspiration to legions of fans. He's been called a visionary, a genius, and a pioneer in this digital age. He's turned virtual unknowns into phenomenons. All of that aside, he has also released some of the most unique solo albums in recent years. Psychedelic Ransom Notes picks up where Rainbow Kaleidoscope left off. But while the latter contained simple pop songs, Psychedelic Ransom Notes thrives on harder, abrasive sounds coupled with poetic lyrics that make limpdick pop-rock bands of today cry like a b**ch. While other bands take years to write a mediocre album, pretentiously secluding themselves in an "inspiring" atmosphere, NNMaddox cranks out classics in fucking apartment in Queens, New York. He laughs at douchebags "rockers" painstakingly agonizing over every pop, crackle, and hiss on a recording. NNMaddox knows the value of spontaneity and the beauty of imperfection. NNMaddox views his Top 40 peers as embarassing crybaby pussies who wouldn't know how to change a flat tire. Don't be fooled by his rail-thin exterior. This man is no crooning b**ch. He'll take a motherfucka's head off if he gotsa. And you better fucking believe he already has. He'll straight up hit you with a tire iron and steal your wallet. What Maddox accomplishes with Psychedelic Ransom Notes is a masterpiece that combines elements of world music with straight-forward kick-a** rock n roll. He throws a ballad or two in there for the b**ches as well. He knows how to please a crowd. He don't play. He don't eat a whole lot, he's not exactly a "nice guy," but he'll make your dumb a** laugh, cry, dance, scream and puke. And he ain't afraid to ruffle feathers either. F**k, he'll massacre a whole farm of chicken if he needs to. Unlike the pansy-a** CEO's who are determined to follow proven formulas that are certain to make millions, NNMaddox will take chances on sh*t that might fall flat on its f**kin' face. He'll come out of left field while you're busy sucking Bono's a**, and put a crowbar throught your f**kin' teeth. And he ain't tryin' to save the world either. He's not Sean Penn, or Brangelina, or the f**kin' Beastie Boys. He's trying to blow it up. No socially aware "We Are The World" songs here. Just straight up rock n' roll. And if you like rock n' roll like he does, you'll get along with him just fine.