We set the scene: motorcycles blazing from the airport strip to the strip joint, our heroes traded their Oberkampf stomping grounds for a sleepless weekend of Spanish groupies, discount bikinis, whiskey and bukkake. And a creative spurt that left us with a mutant of a record, the sound of rock and techno crashing through a drum kit mid-coitus, interrupted by La French Chanson, who stumbles into the hotel room thinking its hers.