"We've come back and we're going to attack your planet with humongous love," says Seiji (that's Mr. Guitar Wolf himself) as he downs vegetable juice at a Jonathan's family restuarant near Yoga Station in western Tokyo.
I light a cigarette and look at him. He isn't smoking his regular Peace coffin nails; he's given up ("I can't believe now that I was doing something so horrible," he says) and he's drinking juice rather than beer, and he's talking about love.
What's going on? Have I stepped into an alternative universe where Guitar Wolf are not the dirtiest, noisiest, rawest and rowdiest (AND BEST!) blues-punk band in the world, but are instead a bunch of hippies who hand out flowers to their fans.