🔥 VYPER: The venom still drips, the neon still glows, and the sleaze never dies.🔥
Our Pronouns are Rock & Roll
Born from the smoke-stained gutters of a Florida City, FL and baptized in hairspray, liquor, and static from busted Marshall stacks, VYPER slithered onto the scene like a chrome-plated hallucination you can’t scrape off your leather pants.
They weren’t a band so much as a fever dream: teased hair that touched the ceiling, animal-print leather stitched together with equal parts sweat and desperation, and riffs so filthy they left stains on the walls of every dive bar unlucky enough to host them. Their amps didn’t hum—they screamed, like rusted engines gunning down an endless strip of neon-lit asphalt.