utorak, 8. prosinca 2009.

Noise in an empty room

There was Smetnja with his accordion & hammer theatrics, like a Siberian peasant with a penchant for jesting. There was Suburban Howl, like a folk singer whose notes had disappeared 'twixt middle-class family houses turning into wolves. There was Fukte with a steady priest-posture, summoning gritty sounds that grind on buried caskets. For the pack of eight or nine that attended, it was a fun and noisy show. For everyone else, you've always got your cookie cutter bullshit. Obviously, noise can also be produced in a standardized, classic manner, but it's the irrational disappointment caused by nonattendance that's talking + I'm sick of neocrust.

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