Whenever I saw Ikey Owens perform, he always looked so into it. It always looked as if he was enjoying hearing the music order as much as he was enjoying playing it. Such earnest nature is a rare commodity. You had only to see The Mars Volta once to realise just how difficult it would've been taking directions from the head. To hold that shit down with the wildest of grins on your face takes a big man; an even mightier musician. That band's lucky that Ikey was such a wizard as to recognise the mission being greater than the sum of the parts. Later, he died on the road with Jack White like some kind of Neal Cassady; in Mexico. To have seen him with the Dub Allstars, or the ghost of Bradley Nowell, would've been something.
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Product code: Free Moral order Agent