In the gutters of Berlin, there’s a band that howls like a banshee in the night. Berliner Lvft, they call themselves, and they’re a motley crew of misfits who live to drink and get high. Four weirdos, who make the devil’s music with aluminum neck guitars and strange tunings that would make your ears bleed. But there’s a strange beauty in their ugliness, a kind of poetry in their madness. They rage against the world, spitting out their disgust with society in every note they play. And when they play, they create a kind of magic.