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A lanky, tattooed man with a thick, pierced moustache takes the stage, his bass guitar strung between his legs. He begins to play, his fingers dancing over the frets, but the real show starts when he starts to hump the instrument. His hips grind against the body of the bass, his nipples and pierced penis swaying with the rhythm. He's a one-man band, his body the percussion, his bass the melody, playing a symphony of flesh and wood.