God made the world in all of seven days. After that, he got bored, retreated into a sensory deprivation caisson, dopped some acid and treated himself to some looping whale song tracks. Satan, for his part, sensing that the time had finally come for a good laugh, took over. After a bit of tinkering, and inevitably exasperated by the wish-washy and bigoted conservatism displayed by the folks of Switzerland, our Master of Hell stumbled upon a brilliant idea: he gathered a few lost souls, put them together inside a rehearsal room and taught them the Truckfighters drive, a few half-baked blues scales and a deviant taste for unorthodox song structures. In order to finally drive the last nail into auditory decency's coffin, our guitar grinders then delved in the sticky waters of vindicative and vicious rock'n'roll subgenres and earth's entrails at last resonated with good old stoner and posthardcore riffing. So Das Röckt! was. Yup. Exactly the way it happened.