GAY PARIS • THE STIFFYS • THE BERKSHIRE HUNTING 

CLUB (“TAYAR” ALBUM LAUNCH)

BLACKBIRD • SORCERY • BONEZ

THE ROLLER DEN – 18/07/14

“Inky!!” screamed Pinky whilst darting around the corner to escape her puck-shaped predator. As she turned the sharp left she bumped noggins with her tangerine-coloured comrade, Clyde…. at least she thought it was Clyde. For reasons unexplained, the four of them all turned the colour of mystique’s bangin’ sweater hams whenever “Round Yella” got on the gear. She regained her composure, groggily looked up and became instantly mortified upon witnessing Clyde’s ectoplasm dripping from the corners of her pursuer’s toothless food hole. She fled the scene faster than a teenager could get an erection, and found herself lost in the death maze once again, however the sounds of “wakka wakka wakka” could always be heard in the distance. “Ayyyeeeee!” came the blood-curdled shriek of Blinky…. and then….. there was silence. The realisation that she was all alone had sunk in harder than the Gummi De Milo in Ashely the babysitter's booty. She accepted defeat and stood at the centre of the labyrinth, when a shadow on the north wall signalled the advent of the buttery behemoth. Emerging from the darkened corner came the death-dealers; Fozzy Bear, riding side-saddle atop of Pacman. The unification of “wakka wakka” and “wakka wakka wakka” had proven too much for the motley crew of would be hunters. As Pinky drew her last breath, a slam on the tabletop pulled me out of my 8-bit trance. “Let’s go” whined Scrappy Doo “we’re gonna miss the first band”. I gladly obliged my protégé and together we descended the stairs into the Rancor’s pit.

My virgin outing to The Roller Den had me frothing at the mouth at just how good the room was. Beards and dreadlocks filled the space early which was filled with more hair than an Ewok village. Up on the stage, BONEZ tried their hardest to woo the early birds. I immediately associated the guitarist and bassist with the Wet Bandits from Home Alone due to their matching fingerless gloves. The group exude a classic pub rock sound, drawing on influences such as The Doors and Santana. Vocalist Tomy Gray had the eyes and intensity of Mick Jagger but without any of the stage room to cut sick. He was entertaining in his own right but it was the bassist who garnered the majority of my attention. His fat rumbling tones and bluesy walking bass really played a vital role in the overall punch delivered by the group. The Damien Sandow look-a-like also provided some surprisingly passable impromptu trumpet into the fold which brought joy to the room in a way that only an animated Disney movie could. I wish I had more to write but I only managed to catch the last three songs from the set. My only beef was that the backing vocals were completely lost in the mix but other than that, the music was good for what it was.

SORCERY hit the ground running to deliver a feisty mix of thrash, punk and metal onto the ever-growing crowd. The high-pitched, fast-paced screams of the vocalist (who I’ll refer to as Ryan from The OC as I was unable to locate any sort of webpage for the band) complimented the brutal distorted tones of Treebeard the bassist, Blackbeard the guitarist and Nobeard the second guitarist. Despite dressing like Oz’s band from Buffy, I actually really dug these guys. Ryan from The OC is a natural frontman who utilizes an “I don’t care” attitude to his performance in the same vein as Julian Casablancas of The Strokes. He mussed his hair in time to the music and his eyes were constantly rolling towards the back of their sockets, enriching the performance ten-fold. Amidst all the trash came an incredibly heavy breakdown reminiscent of the “Shut up! I’ll fuck you up!” section of Korn’s “Right Now” which had my head bouncing around like those of the Stark family. Definitely a group to keep on your radars.

Sydney six-piece BLACKBIRD came out of the gates strong with their take on sixties inspired rock n roll. All three guitarists and the bassist playing the exact same riff really gave the genesis of the set a sense of turgid beefiness. The “oomf” quickly wore off however once I realised that I was watching a jam session rather than a performance. Apart from the bassist, not one member of the band acknowledged that the crowd was even there. Awkward silence filled the space between every song. No “Hi. We’re Blackbird”. No “Thankyou for coming out”. No “This is our last song”. No banter. Nothing.  Everyone adopted the shoegazer stance and the vocalist took it one step further by having his back to us the entire set. Add to this his out of tune singing/wailing which was unsuccessfully masked by copious amounts of reverb. One of the guitarists was behind a pole the whole performance and the truth of the matter is, they might as well have all been there. Towards the end of the set the drummer developed an excitement level rivalling that of Augustus Gloop upon seeing the chocolate waterfall for the first time, but it was too little, too late. The music was solid but became very repetitive, very quickly. Quite frankly, I was insulted they played third.

“Gloriously insane” best describes the stage presence of post-hardcore outfit THE BERKSHIRE HUNTING CLUB. Guitarist Nick Ryan had swindled me out of my hard earned money in a game of Connect Four at the merch stand. The rules were simple; if you win, you get free merch. If you lose, you HAVE TO buy it. It’s a brilliant piece of interactive marketing which sets the lads apart from other bands before they even hit the stage. Needless to say I lost the game (as well as the shirt on the way home). Moving the events back to the stage, Berkshire are fucking insane live and will have you scrambling to find your children (or someone else’s children) to protect them. Vocalist Matt Browne is the spitting image of Lips from The Electric Mayhem and performs with the insanity of Cyprus Hill’s collective membranes. Every inch of his body makes contact with some part of the floor throughout the set with band members (and audience members) attacking the man as he performs. Whether it be a push, a tackle, a thrown cup or a piggy back, Browne welcomes the interaction and incorporates it into his performance (usually through reciprocation of the attack). Top-lip moustache advocate Rob Hudson looks half the age of the rest of the band but his on-stage demeanour interlocks with Browne’s like Jim’s dick in a warm apple pie. He utilizes a butt-tonne of slides in his guitar style which only enhances the abrasiveness of the groups already grating post-hardcore sound. Nick “Swindling Cunt” Ryan had his guitar strap so high that it looks as though he is holding a rifle as he plays. Male model and bassist Mitch Antman has no aesthetic business being up on stage and should be ashamed for making everyone else look ugly. Up the back of the dais, Ryan Wakeling pounds away at his kit like a kid playing whack-a-mole. His high-vis pumpkin coloured beanie never leaving the comfort of his mathematically programmed head. The bands unapologetically vicious performance won more than a few hearts tonight and if the music didn’t, then the mouth-to-mouth beer exchange between Browne and Ryan did. To my horror, every person on-stage threw their instruments around with the ferocity of a PMS’ing Sheila Broflofski and were actively trying to break their guitars. As my little sugar biscuit so elegantly put it “It’s so refreshing to see a band that isn’t so precious about their gear and merchandise” and I couldn’t agree more. The Berkshire Hunting Club are one of Australia’s best keep secrets. Jump on this bandwagon now so you can be that guy in five years’ time who says “I knew them before they were famous”.

Melbourne two-piece electro-rock outfit THE STIFFYS were the strangest addition to the bill but holy balls did they get the room moving. Two men dressed in matching Donald Duck sailor outfits (except with pants) managed to deliver a sound bigger than the first three bands combined. I’m reminded of artists such as The Presets and Regurgitator as bassist/vocalist Jason Leigh grinded away at his instrument in his almost knee-high socks. Providing pitch perfect harmonies on the drums was Jared Leto impersonator Adam Stagg. Together these two juggernauts managed to get the majority of the room dancing and singing along to their infectious tunes. It was my first listening of these guys and I already knew the songs by the end of the set. Leigh’s colossal, rumbling bass tones sounded as if they were produced by an entire orchestra made up entirely of bass guitars amplified through the vocal chords of Michael Clarke Duncan and James Earl Jones, and if that doesn’t suck you in, his flamboyant over-the-top performance will. Leigh’s brilliant use of loops and the fact that some dude brought a boogie board on-stage and used it to ride the crowd waves, ensured that every smile in the room joined together like a chain of paper clips. Grooves inspired by Jimi Hendrix’s “Fire” turn up the intensity to eleven as tracks such as “Sexy Lemonade” make you reach for a bottle of Gatorade to avoid dying of dehydration. I was so impressed by these guys that I bought a cd (which I also lost on the way home) a light blue shirt which I’ll never wear) and a branded sailors cap (which I’ll wear every day for the rest of my life). At the risk of stating the obvious, I have a stiffy for The Stiffys.

The headliner were a band I had heard a lot about but had never seen. More importantly I had heard a lot about the live performance. Sydney foursome GAY PARIS didn’t hit the stage until after midnight but that only made the brood of punters hungrier. My first observation of the hirsute group was that the mix was way too loud and made it very hard to hear a lot of the set. Luke Monk’s unique vocals are a combination of Bobcat Goldthwait and Spider One of Powerman 5000. The music had a bluesy, swamp-rock kinda feel to it but with a bottle of bourbon poured into every track to give it a sexy modern tinge. Despite the sound being a bit lacklustre, Gay Paris more than made up for it with their insane live performance. There was more beard on-stage than a ZZ Top expo and every member performed as if the throng of zombies were there to see them, and them alone. Guitarist Lachlan Marks rode atop the shoulders of a groupie and shredded his way through the crowd whilst his sweaty bratwurst brushed up against the back of the mules’ neck. Monk couldn’t resist the urge to crowd surf but whilst on stage he held out his arms in an effort to look as big as possible and to scare away any bears that might attack. Bassist Dean Podmore couldn’t contain his excitement between each song to provide the comic relief of the night. The backing vocals from himself and Marks brought an excellent element of old-school cool from the punk and ska bands of the early nineties. The audience were more volatile than a Diet Coke that had just had a Mentos dumped in it. Bodies were flying everywhere and no matter where I stood in the room, I was getting injured. Towards the back end of the set, half the audience had managed to get up on stage only to fail miserably at crowd surfing. The group received a thunderous ovation at the conclusion of their set which led to a gratuitous encore. I opted to retreat to the back of the room for this  to nurse the multitude of blisters I had amassed in the mosh. Was the sound good? No, but in the end it didn’t matter one iota. I’ll be counting down the days for a second chance to catch these Sydney-siders again so they can hopefully make me ruin a pair of my pants with butt-fuckingly good clarity of sound.

One gig a month helps keep the scene alive. Also buy some fucking merch while you’re there you cheap bastards. Another successful gig means another huge win for live music.

Don’t be a dick, Sydney! Support the music scene.

Joshua Towney

http://symbioticgigreviews.blogspot.com.au/

https://www.facebook.com/gayparis

https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Stiffys/271728269523541

https://www.facebook.com/theberkshirehuntingclub

https://www.facebook.com/BlackbirdAus

http://www.theocshow.com/

https://www.facebook.com/bonezyeah

VOYAGER “V” album launch

w/ CALIGULA’S HORSE • TROLDHAUGEN • WITHOUT PARACHUTES

THE FACTORY FLOOR – 05/07/14

The Hogwarts Express departed platform nine and three quarters right on time. The locomotive was abuzz with excited children eager to attend their first year at the prestigious school of metal excellence. To the rear of the train sit our trio of heroes; Smella Longbottom, with the power to substitute the jalapenos on a breakfast burrito for bacon; Flaito Malfoy, with the powers of intense bear-like hibernation and; Narrator, with the power of extreme handsomeness and wordsmithery. Malfoy and Narrator were entering their senior year at Hogwarts and had promised their parents to look after Longbottom who was making her debut appearance. While Flaito slumbered, Smella looked around the steam engine, wide eyed and full of fascination and Narrator perused the Daily Prophet. The front page reported that a tie-wielding Gorilla and his cap wearing simian sidekick had gone and gotten all their bananas stolen by the incredibly lame, instrument inspired Tiki Tak tribe (Kremlings or die). The sun disappeared behind the city line as The Hogwarts Express arrived at The Factory Floor station. Hagrid stamped our hallpasses onto our wrists and shooed us into the Great Hall for orientation.

Marrickville was colder than the surface of Hoth and the punters had arrived early to catch Wollongong (I’m sorry) indy/rock outfit WITHOUT PARACHUTES. Some technical issues with the samples at the beginning of the set hindered the initial impact of the fringe wielding trio, but it was quickly forgotten as soon as the lads started playing. Like a malnourished fish I was instantly hooked. I am a sucker(fish) for a three-piece band that can deliver a huge stadium-quality experience. The colossal sound bombarding my senses was one of kids who have grown up on a musical diet of Muse, Coldplay and The Killers. Both the group’s instrumentation and the vocals of guitarist William Cruger, emulate these three complimentary bands. His lower tones reminiscent of the coolness of Brandon Flowers, his higher notes capturing the warmth of Chris Martin, and his falsetto effortlessly paying homage to musical prodigy, Matt Bellamy. Bassist Michael Cooper delivered a monumental sonic barrage all on his own with a heavy use of low-end distortion and octave effects. He danced across the stage like a knock-kneed nutcracker and was seemingly spent after the opening track of the night. Up the back of the dais, polo shirt enthusiast Bob Stewart hammered away at his kit like a blacksmith forging a broadsword, showing considerable favour to the floor toms that encompassed him. Cruger’s mastery of guitar sounds lathered the music with a hollandaise of Dead Letter Circus delays and a salsa verde of grungy distortions. The effects heavy threesome had heads in the audience bobbing like a parliament of owls, possibly due to the sonic boom of Stewarts kick drum being harpooned into their sternums. By the end of the set, Cooper was sweatier than Ethan Hunt dangling over the sensitively alarmed floor of the CIA headquarters, and the crowd were spooging with appreciation of the perfectly selected opening act.

Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You”, Marlon Brando’s “Stellaaaaaaaaaaa!” and a simple growl of “Cookies” suggested that even during the sound check of Wollongong’s (I’m so, so sorry) TROLDHAUGEN, it was evident that we were in for an entertaining set. The folk/metal foursome enter the colosseum to a mash up of The Simpsons Theme and Aerosmith’s “Walk This Way” dressed in matching retro 80’s sunglasses except for the frontman, who sported a rubber deer head. Without warning the mask was torn off and the frenzied set began with a flurry of eye-opening absurdity. Vocalist Reventüsk immediately commands the attention of the entire room with his larger-than-life persona and exaggerated theatrics. The man was dressed like a used car salesman and had eyes crazier than Cristopher Lloyd’s incarnation of Uncle Fester. The way he performs on stage is like nothing I have ever seen before. Think Heath Ledger’s Joker crossed with Jack Nicholson’s Joker, combined with Mark Hamill’s Joker, merged with Raul Julia’s representation of Gomez Adamms, blended with the enthusiasm of workout mogul Richard Simmons and the downright lunacy of System Of A Down’s Serj Tankian, and you’re not even close to how insanely enthralling the Ron Jeremy doppelganger is. The vocals were a mixture of the aforementioned Mr Tankian and the beloved diabetes endorsement that is the Cookie Monster. The man used more hand gestures than a deaf translator and even conducted the band sporadically throughout the set. I somehow managed to avert my gaze from the Xena calling comedian who was constantly using his jacket as a cape, only to hilariously catch drummer Grädenøk shimmying behind his kit as he played. He wore a matching valet outfit with bassist Svarog who provided the subtler comedy of the group, and by subtle I mean if anyone else had been fronting the circus/pirate/polka/folk/jazz/metal group, then his comedy would have been louder than Gilbert Gottfried mid orgasm. The low-ender pirouetted across the floor like a figurine in a jewellery box as his pupils shot back and forth to the corners of his eyes in time to the music. Guitarist Meldengar was the serious one of the group but still fit the mould snugger than a foot long pork sword in a virgin prison purse. He sported a wife beater and sung along to himself the majority of the set whilst stomping around the stage with the lovable ferocity of Reptar. Meldengar and Svarog worked both sides of the stage like seasoned professionals and transitioned fluently between the two. Reventüsk joined them towards the end of the set as they marched around the stage in single file like ducklings following their mother across a busy highway. Without the crazy stage antics, Troldhaugen would have killed it. As it stood, they ritually slaughtered it, brought it back from the dead, and killed it again. They incorporated copious amounts of abrupt syncopation and utilised their circus and piani (not a typo) samples to perfection…… it was super effective. With a set loaded with masterpieces like “Slaughterhouse Swing” and “Beast Wagon” it is little wonder these Wollongong (Oh lordy, I’m sorry you had to go through that) madmen have been turning heads across the country. Brilliant.

Brisbane’s CALIGULA’S HORSE were the band I had braved the weather to see tonight and the only group of the four that I had heard of. I haven’t stopped dreaming about the prog/rock/metal five-piece since I reviewed them at The Locies last year, as the easy listening grooves of the “Sea Horse” were downright crafted for love makin’. Straight off the bat the sound was sharper than Snape’s acid tongue, and every bad decision I had ever made in my life, melted away for forty or so sexually stimulating minutes. After talking with the lads last time they were down, they stressed their concern over just how hard a city Sydney Town was to crack. As far as I am aware, this was their biggest Sydney audience to date and it really showed in their performance. The band as a whole had a stage presence more vibrant than the Broadway production of The Lion King as every member sung along to the tunes regardless of whether they had microphones or not. Vocalist Jim Grey’s comedic timing was as snappy as ever. He deflected the playful heckles from the crowd with reactions quicker than Indie’s bullwhip, until one saucy reviewer floored him with a verbal rally instigated by a cheeky “Show us your dick”. Jim utilises the stage mannerisms of a 90’s pop diva and for whatever reason, it just works. Mr Grey was sporting a hirsute Christian Bale look this time around but all I saw was Malibu Ken doll now with a new beard accessory. I wasn’t even mad at my two lady tag-alongs for drooling over the bronzed Adonis as I found myself questioning my “P” or “V” orientation. Seriously though, the guy packs a calm yet punchy vocal tone which switches effortlessly between pitch-perfect, ethereal falsetto and Pavarotti rivalling robustness. Dream Theater could be heard encasing nuggets of djenty goodness as bassist Dave “Little John” Couper’s sultry eyes targeted random individuals in the audience. One of my favourite moments of the set was during “The City Has No Empathy” when Couper unleashed his inner prima donna during the “Fuck this city” part of the track and made the entirety of their fanbase all hot and bothered. His fingers danced across the fortified cables of his instrument with more grace than a pre-Mountain Red Viper of Dorne. At the conclusion of one of the songs mid-set, the quintet were being verbally assaulted with deafening cheers which instantly cut to the sound of a record stopping, followed by crickets. It was one of the funniest moments of the night and Grey played it up like a boss. Guitarist Zac Greensill was also sporting a new beard which made him look like a young version of Popeye’s nemesis, Bluto. Shadows of Periphery and The Butterfly Effect were composed on his six-string as he proudly showed off his bushranger jaw shrubbery. Speaking of Periphery, second guitarist Sam Vallen adopted a Misha Mansoor power stance whenever he bewildered us with his note stampeding solos. Vallen brings an avalanche of awe-inspiring licks and harmonics into the fold that are inspired by goliaths such as Steve Vai and Opeth. He arches a shoulder and screws up his face whenever he bends a note, causing him to look like a scrawnier version of Peter Dinklage. Vallen and Greensill floored me at the conclusion of “All Is Quiet By The Wall” with my favourite riff of the night. It caused me to create a twitter account there and then just to tell the world just how good it was. On the bongos to the rear of the stage sits the ginger pirate Geoff Irish with his flame-kissed hair. He once again showed off to the crowd by twirling the drumsticks between his hands and acknowledging every single person in the audience who was vying for his attention with an “Ayeeeeeeeeeeeee” reminiscent of the Fonz. In a moment of unplanned, subtle comedic timing, Irish unleashed his blood red mane from its shackles when Grey announced the final track “Dark Hair Down”. I was so god damn impressed by these guys that I hired a group of accountants to do the maths for me, and I can confidently say that I am exactly fifteen times more impressed than I was before. One of Australia’s, nay, the world’s best bands roaming the earth today.

As mentioned earlier, I had never heard of Perth prog/metal royalty VOYAGER before I bought tickets to tonight’s event and I didn’t really know what to expect. The set opened with drums mimicking the theme from The Terminator and my two companions and I had a sick feeling in our stomachs that the headliner would be disappointing compared to what we had just witnessed. I was unsure how I felt about the group until the third track of the night, when the sold out venue was bellowing the chorus of the song with a bloodlust fervour. I was swept up in what a salesman would call “The Jones Theory” and immediately wanted to be all up in Voyager’s business. The brood of savage punters were like a pack of velociraptors being served a cow at feeding time. Fist pumps filled the air as power metal influences such as Dragonforce and Manowar wallop me with an aural bitch slap to the face. Throughout the set, bricks of Soilwork, Killswitch Engage and Karnivool’s “Persona” EP filled the musical wall being constructed in my earholes as well as more obscure influences such as David Bowie and early Bon Jovi. Frontman/Keytarist and Skrillex impersonator Danny Estrin is the epitome of charisma. The carefully crafted vocal hooks of his ridiculously sing-along anthems fuel the mayhem of the horde to higher levels with each passing song. Percussionist Ashley Doodkorte was sporting a glorious chopper that Merv Hughes would be envious of. He pulverised the skins of his kit much like Animal of The Muppets and his brutal double kick booted the intense moments of the music straight up its proverbial date. The 80’s synth samples littered throughout the set worked a charm in enhancing the flavour of the already obtuse musical opus in which a saxophone wouldn’t have been out of place. By the forth song of the set, a single crowd surfer laid waste to the rabid fans much like a boulder launched from a catapult. It was nice to see a femme guitarist in the form of Simone Dow, shredding her axe like a Ninja Turtles villain. She looked right at home amongst the boys, ensuring to show more tongue throughout the performance than Gene Simmons of KISS. Her counterpart Scott Kay was geeing up the crowd much like Metallica’s Jason Newstead and was just as skilled on the electric future-lute as Dow. The two of them spoiled us with copious amounts of duelling guitar work which ruined more than one set of pants in the room. Voyager were beyond stoked with the capacity turnout and the raw passion of the zombie horde. The love that Voyager has of performing was showcased through the expressions of every member of the band. Some random groupies’ shoe managed to make it up onstage which was held up in the air triumphantly by Estrin, and the crowd reacted much like the aliens at Pizza Planet upon witnessing “The Claw”. Bassist/backing vocalist Alex Canion had the excitement levels of a toddler who had just tasted sugar for the first time and his onstage bromance with Estrin was nothing short of adorable. He hilariously got sucker punched in the gob during one of his choral moments when an overexcited devotee hit the base of the microphone. Troldhaugen vocalist Reventüsk made a guest appearance in an entertaining melody consisting of Starship’s “We Built This City”, Backstreet Boys “Backstreet’s Back”, Meatloaf’s “I Would Do Anything For Love”, ACDC’s “Highway To Hell, John Farnham’s “You’re The Voice” and some other song I couldn’t work out. It was all luminously interlocked by an increasingly humorous, chuggy riff, reminiscent of Timmy And The Lords Of The Underworld. The bone-shattering syncopation between the kick and bass whipped the mob into a frenzy that looked as if the Hulk had been unleashed onto a room full of Loki clones. The fan interaction was as intimate as teenagers up the back of a theatre; handshakes were thrown around like mid-sprint man boobs and all the guitars were held out over the crowd during the finale for the fans to play along with the band. The inevitable encore satiated the appetites of the infected throng of devotees and sent the Western Australian’s off with more vocal showing of support than Helen Of Troy the first time she got her norks out for all of Greece to see in Girls Gone Wild BC. Voyager, I am forever at your service.

On a side note, whoever did the sound tonight really hit it out of the park. Whoever you are, (whispered) I love you.

This was one of the strongest sets I have ever had the pleasure of witnessing in my entire gigging career and it would easily slip into my top five list of all time. Not one of these bands came from Sydney and yet managed to inject a much needed adrenaline surge into our cities stagnant music scene. For anyone who didn’t attend, you really missed out (Craig, I’m looking at you).

Don’t be a dick, Sydney! Support the live music scene.

Joshua Towney

http://symbioticgigreviews.blogspot.com.au/

https://www.facebook.com/symbioticgigreviews

https://www.facebook.com/voyageraustralia

https://www.facebook.com/caligulashorseband

https://www.facebook.com/Troldhaugen

https://www.facebook.com/WithoutParachutesBand

SURRENDER THE SUN – “TAURI” ALBUM LAUNCH

W/ RED REMEDY • CUERVO • WE WITHOUT

THE FACTORY FLOOR – 20/06/14

“Open the gates!” boomed the hawkeyed sentry. He had spotted Shadowfax the second he emerged from Fangorn Forest, and the rider whose foot had been caught in the stirrups being dragged along behind him like an unwilling cavewoman. The town mystic hastily scurried to my side to apply a balm of eye-of-newt and camel toe to the wounds I had acquired in battle, a battle where Bitch Gimli had fallen victim to the Uruk-hai of Late Night Roster Tower. I awoke in a panic and was immediately bombarded with the banter of hundreds of boozey townsfolk. The mead was going down faster than a housewife in a porno and all memories of the approaching doomsday army had seemed to flee their minds. The villagers were mustering up the strength to stand and fight and had assembled a ragtag group of unwashed musicians to help boost the morale of the regiment. Before I had time to digest the impending danger, the heralding of horns, battle drums and war cries filled the stagnant air. I nervously gripped my halberd, swallowed my fear, and charged headfirst into the hybrid riffraff.

The Factory Floor is a quirky little room adorned with figureheads, murals of Vikings, and hanging lights straight out of Bioshock’s underwater metropolis, Rapture. It set a really cool scene for Sydney rockers WE WITHOUT to woo the already buzzing crowd with the tough opening slot. The sound was a little shaky at first (which is usually the case) but the five-piece were firing on all cylinders by the second song of the set, which sounded heavily influenced by Dead Letter Circus’s “The Mile”. We Without are a grunge band at the core but influences from bands such as Bloc Party, Powderfinger and Faith No More, craft the overall sound into a marble cake of rock. Bassist Rick Thomas grinned like a Gremlin as he demonstrated his vast knowledge of power poses, while guitarist Cameron Roberts introduced a lot of eccentric influence into the fold, including some gorgeous blues licks inspired by The Doors. At the end of the day though it was the frontman who seduced the punters. Chad Kemp has a unique vocal tone similar to Scott Stapp of Creed or Brad Roberts of Crash Test Dummies (although nowhere near that deep). Even though his vocals were tough to hear at times, he more than made up for it by really having fun with the crowd tonight. His antics included ribbing his bandmates for stuffing up the start of a song, and overcommitting to pumping up the audience in a style very similar to Will Ferrell in Step Brothers. I feel that the following statement is the only way to describe it: It was fucking adorable. My third run-in with We Without proved to be the strongest I’ve seen them perform to date and I am genuinely excited to see where they go from here.  

The room was only at half capacity as Sydney quartet CUERVO hit the stage, but within the opening three seconds of the set, every jaw in the room hit the floor in unison. I was instantly hooked as the bands’ influences rang through unashamedly resplendent, and amalgamated into what I would describe as trance-inducing dance/rock. Arctic Monkeys hit me with a quick left jab while Franz Ferdinand sucker-punched me with a solid right hook. System Of A Down went for cheeky kidney blow while The Living End pulverised my nose with a swinging haymaker. Queens Of The Stone Age finish the job with a Shoryuken to my Spartan jaw that would make Ken and Ryu weep tears of joy. Vocalist/guitarist Nic Villanueva is an instantly likable character and a superb frontman for Cuervo. If Aliens ever declare war on Earth and Hugh Jackman or Jennifer Lawrence aren’t available as ambassadors for peace, then Mr Villanueva would make a worthy understudy. His warm vocals cut through the musical mayhem being projected on-stage much like a glass of coke cuts through the grease of a cheese and salami pizza. Guitarist Carlos Romanos has a stage presence that rivals the absurdity of SOAD’s Darren Malakian. The wizard of sound throws every part of his body into every note that he plays; his eyebrows, his nostrils, his appendix…….everything. Percussion virtuoso Sam Sakr absolutely punished his kit and was bent forward so much that his back was running parallel to the ground the entire set. Sid Norris’s chestnut brown hair which shielded his visage, created an unmistakable resemblance to beloved children’s book character Grug. He seems quite reserved on stage until you look down at his hands. My god! Those fucking hands! They fingered the steel cables of his brown-noter faster than a kid with Parkinson’s, who’s been in the friend-zone his entire adolescent life, stabbing the cat of his high school crush after downing an eight-ball of gas. The knee-jerk syncopation that was littered throughout the set showed more discipline than the soldiers of the Queens Guard and as the performance progressed, even more influences decided to join the melee. Bite sized pieces of Karnivool’s “Sound Awake” album could be tasted in the chaos along with tracks like “Shut Up And Let Me Go” by The Ting Tings. Every song had unbelievably catchy instrumental breakdowns which breathed even more life and rhythm into the abundant nirvana of sounds entwining in the air around me. By the end of it all, the room was full of hungry punters screaming for a much deserved encore and I was right in the thick of it. Incredible high energy set from one of the most promising young Australian bands I’ve seen in years.

I was standing next to a few of the lads from RED REMEDY when Cuervo finished their set and they realised the magnitude of what they had to follow. As this was my forth time viewing the Sydney foursome, I had little doubt that they would have no problems knocking it out of the park tonight. The neo punk/screamo rockers were the heaviest addition to the bill tonight and they knew it. Red Remedy are brash, loud and unapologetic. Influences such as Refused and The Dillinger Escape Plan ring loud and clear, as well as songs such as “Disease” by Sevendust. They weren’t everyone’s cup of tea but that didn’t stop the boys from snapping up more numbers into their diehard fanbase. Zach Evans is a natural frontman who oozes confidence and charisma. His high pitched, abrasive banshee scream is the bread and butter of the bands’ in-your-face sound, which hits you harder than a fart in a bathtub. Leigh Czerwonka’s grainy, mid-heavy distortion accompanies Jess Rossiters hard-hitting, stampeding drum style and Adrian Booth’s booming bass, to a picnic spread full of Waldorf salad, chicken soup and lemon cakes, and then stomp it into oblivion like a Kaiju laying waste to an unsuspecting San Francisco. The heavier songs from the groups’ first ep were a bit much for tonight’s crowd but more approachable tracks such as “Love This Machine” and “The Butcher” from their sophomore release, lured the curious back in for seconds, much like mulled wine in the dead of winter. Solid set from a great Sydney band.

This was it. The crowd was primed and ready to go. SURRENDER THE SUN hit the stage to a sold out and well lubricated room of people gagging to hear tracks from the bands’ debut album “Tauri”. I felt as though I was the only one in the room who had not seen the group before, so I unpuckered my butthole and let the Sydney four-piece have their way with me. The show opened with a video projection on the back wall which transported me back to my childhood. The geometric shapes dancing across the screen reminded me of the Arwings from Starfox on the Super Nintendo. The music abruptly kicked in and I immediately felt Darren Navan’s huge rumbling bass in the pit of my stomach.  Shane Dwyer’s tribal percussion grooves drive the music as Luke Connolly’s delayed guitar work dances through the air like the ash of the obliterated Hometree of Pandora. The band showcase a progressive sound, with underlying ancestral beats that at times flirted with the idea of techno-like rhythms. It really was a great canvas for petite vocalist Gess Flynn to belt out her surprisingly powerful Siren song. The effortless way her vocals seemingly waft through the background of the music while remaining at the forefront, is on par with what Free Dominguez manages to pull off in “Before I’m Dead” by the Kidneythieves. At the conclusion of every track, the fervent audience reciprocated the noise back to the musicians with a volley of deafening, well deserved cheers. I found it hard to compare the group to other bands at first but as the much appreciated set continued, the influences crept through the air sneakier than the Hamburglar after graduating from ninja school.  Echoes of Cog, Breaking Orbit and Meniscus, chimed throughout the set as a troupe of performing artists twirled epileptic fit inducing LED batons off the side of the stage. Flynn left the dais and gave the boys some time in the spotlight without her. The trio bewildered the room with a rambunctious instrumental track in the same light as “Scarabs” by Karnivool which really demonstrated just how skilled the boys were with their weapons of choice. Flynn returned to the stage with a smile that told us just how happy the band were with how their night had unfolded. Surrender The Sun had the crowd eating out of the palms of their hands and utilized some really great sample work throughout the entire performance. My favourite moment of the set came during the closing number of the night when Connolly complimented Flynn’s commanding vocals with some really bangin’ harmonies. It left as quickly as it came and I could feel Sub Zero’s icy fingers running down my spine. That was how the set ended. They finished the show with me standing there wanting to hear those gorgeous harmonies one more time. The lights came up and the brood projected a sonic boom of cheers towards the chuffed stars of the night. I was on such a high as I left that I forgot to pick up an album on the way out which goes to show just how incredible tonight’s bill was. Incredible gig.

The incredibly hard working people at The Synesthesia Massive have once again given me hope for Sydney’s unstable live music scene by putting on an absolute corker of a show with four shining examples of the best in Aussie rock. I say this every review but it still rings true: if we all see at least one gig a month then the future will be in bright hands.

Don’t be a dick, Sydney! Support the music scene.

Joshua Towney

http://www.symbioticgigreviews.blogspot.com.au/

https://www.facebook.com/SurrenderTheSun

https://www.facebook.com/redremedyband

https://www.facebook.com/cuervotheband

https://www.facebook.com/wewithout

https://www.facebook.com/TheSynesthesiaMassive

TWELVE FOOT NINJA • THE ALGORITHM • POLARIS

MANNING BAR – 29/03/14

Wormvestor Stallone abseils down the precipitous cliff face to deliver a holy hand grenade behind enemy lines. His mission; to wreak havoc on an unsuspecting group of Ocker invertebrates, which will allow the remaining member of Fish Bait Squad to slink in undetected for an easy victory over the tyrannical reign of Timcules. A month off the booze had caused my “soberical” fortitude to recede back to the glory days of my teenage, virgin liver, and at only two scotches in, my plan fell apart in the most unfortunate of fashions. The divine missile fell from my hands, off-target and into a mine littered crater.  Stallone decided to follow suit and was obliterated on impact. The impressive explosion launched a series of proximity mines directly at an already wounded Arnold Wormseneggar, ousting him from the arena and into a watery grave to join the rest of his fallen comrades. Upon witnessing my self-inflicted defeat, Mistress Flataitycus urged that we make our way to Manning Bar with the speed of Hermes. Heeding her wisdom, we departed Sparta with our army of three and excitedly made our way towards The Hot Gates of Sydney University, for death and glory.

Six-piece metalcore outfit POLARIS were an unusual choice to kick off the Sydney leg of the Troll Burger tour. Straight out of kindergarten and into the hearts of a few diehard fans up the front, the Sydney siders wasted no time in unfurling their mix of screamo laden chug-a-lug onto the unresponsive crowd. Most hardcore/metalcore/applecore bands are full of young, angry kids with a high energy front man fuelled by Red Bull, and Jamie Hails was no exception to the rule. His nasally screams filled the arena as he ensured to tag every bit of floor the venue had to offer. Bassist Jake Steinhauser was the far more competent of the two singers, providing perfectly suited clean vocals for the chorus-like sections of the songs. Guitarist Ryan Siew worked the crowd like a pro and was easily the most interesting person to watch on stage. That was until he decided to sit down on the edge of the stage for what felt like half the set. His counterpart Rick Schneider whilst not very active on stage, did provide some gorgeous sweeping guitar work which at times reminded me of Karnivool’s persona EP. Drummer Daniel Furnari appeared to be bored beyond tears. Technically he’s very good at what he does and he might even enjoy it, although his face does not betray his emotions. Despite all of this, the music as a whole was actually quite enjoyable as it was chock full of syncopated riffage, grinding chuggs and gorgeous sweeping clean overdubs provided by Schneider. The boys seem to have a decent following and sadly I feel they gained nothing in terms of exposure by playing this show. In summary; good band, wrong crowd.

I’ll be honest. I’d never heard of THE ALGORITHM before tonight and was confused at the unusual set up on stage before me, staring me down like a lusty minx. A lone drum kit overlooks The Pride Lands from its podium whilst a rather lengthy table housed a menagerie of electronica doodads of which I have no idea of how any of them operate. The French duo take to the stage during a remix of Dragonforce’s “Through The Fire And Flames” which stimulated our musical prostates in anticipation. The cautiously curious crowd look on as the virtuosos before me work their seductive musical magic which quickly causes more than a few pairs of ear in the room to prick up. What makes this band stand out is they appease to both electronica and metal crowds whilst not falling into the industrial sub-genre. The set as a whole was mathematically challenging; full of off-centre time signatures (such as 6/4 and 10/4) much to the delight of every musician in attendance. The music is metal orientated electronica with a Super Saiyan in the form of Mike Malyan on the drums. He pummels the steel and skins of his kit with the speed of Tara Reid’s demise from stardom. Brainchild of The Algorithm Rémi Gallego worked the mixing and engineering on stage. I have no idea how any of the equipment works but every gesture of his hands and every idiosyncrasy he displayed coincided with a battering ram of electronic legerdemain. He utilized the perfect amount of dubs per wub, appeased to the metal fans by incorporating heavy amounts of djenty guitar work and even contorted a smorgasbord of froth-inducing sounds that syncopated with the insane percussion skills of Malyan. It wasn’t until Kin of Twelve Foot Ninja joined the duo on stage that the crowd really started to get into the set. The multitude were starting to dance like toddlers at a Wiggles concert and the room was rapidly filling up to see what all the commotion was. By the time the boys closed the set with a remix of Daft Punk’s “Faster Stronger” the audience could chain link a smile from wall to wall. A thunderous applause saw off the French men and a new wave of excitement filled the room with the advent of the headliner. Brilliant performance from a genre defying band that will be making high rotations in my music library for the foreseeable future.

Melbourne’s TWELVE FOOT NINJA enter the dojo to demonstrate their sneaky assassin ways to the drooling punters in attendance tonight. The five piece have to be seen to be believed as the excellent recordings don’t hold a candle to their explosive live show. “Coming For You” harpoons our senses with its genre-abusing structure which shouldn’t work in any scenario (like ever) and yet, it more than satiates our musical appetites, as the song fits together like a perfectly constructed Lego Death Star. The inebriated mob were singing along in droves to anthem after anthem of the bands impressive catalogue of hits. Russ had his arms flailing away up the back of the stage like a teenage girl running into a friend she last saw only an hour ago. Damon was grinning like the Mayor of Halloween Town while he was hunched over his bass like Quasimodo, presumably to reach the bottom strings in order to add his distinctive flavour of fat, bouncy hooks into the music. Kin’s face suggested that he was exhausted during the performance but his flawless Patten-like vocals quickly shot that assumption out of the water. Fan favourite Stevic had his very vocal supporters in attendance tonight. I don’t know where it came from but one rowdy punter was screaming out to him on the opposite side of the stage to give him a slice of pizza……which he devoured in a single bite and much like a duck, the mastication process was non-existent. Rohan and Stevic had some nice duelling guitar battles going on at one point much to the delight of the rowdy room. “Molotov Brother” sent the endorphins in the room haywire and the world record breaking, crowd funded video of “Ain’t That A Bitch” helped cement a new favourite sing along for the increasingly sweaty mosh. The audience grew hungrier with every passing song of Twelve Foot Ninja’s patented brand of electro/metal/random genre fusion. “Portrait #1” had all but the four kids front and centre (who had been there since the doors opened and complained whenever someone bumped into them) bouncing along like an opportunistic Randy Marsh, and “Clarion” had us singing out of tune like an army of banshees. TFN close the show with “Mother Sky” (which finally got the gig noobs moving to the music) which the horde lapped up quicker than Goku can eat a meal after a forty eight episode battle. Twelve Foot Ninja are one of Australia’s tightest acts to date and it’s no wonder why their innovative brand of genre fusing metal is garnering cult-like adoration the world over. Glorious set yet again from the Melbourne five piece.

Australia has so many talented bands that can compete with the best the world has to offer. Twelve Foot Ninja are doing wonders for Aussie music overseas and they started out like any local band in sunny Melbourne town. Think about how many other bands we can propel through the ranks if we all attended at least one gig a month. Sydney should be the envy of other cities and not the proverbial black hole of the local music scene that we as a city have unfortunately gained a reputation for. Our music scene needs your help to nourish the volatile nature of the industry.

Don’t be a dick, Sydney! Support The Music Scene.

Joshua Towney

https://www.facebook.com/twelvefootninja

https://www.facebook.com/TheAlg0r1thm

https://www.facebook.com/polarisaus

KARNIVOOL, DEAD LETTER CIRCUS, SLEEP•MAKES•WAVES

UNSW ROUNDHOUSE - 17/01/14

“That’ll be ten dollars thanks” uttered the liberally tattooed, rooftop bartender of the Aurora Hotel. I walked away with an icy pint of deep amber lager in each hand and I was more puzzled than a dog looking for a ball that was never thrown. The short tempered Wolverine informed me that everything over the bar during happy hour was a measly five bucks and so, and so……and so we drank everything. Steins and goblets and chalices (Oh my!) piled up on our table like the halls of Valhalla as the pauper priced mead was rapidly depleted from them. We debated the uselessness of Superman and how the ridiculously turd “Arrow” was still on the air whilst our veins were continuously pumped full of any beverage that would have its way with us. The conversation turned to the amazing value of the majority of products available from K-Mart and then back again to Superman being shitter than a prune fuelled nappy puddle. Time soon got the better of us and Mr Cabman ensured that we made the inebriated journey into Coruscant faster than a bolt fired from a wookie bowcaster. It was time to marvel at three Australian bands at the top of their game under the roof of the infamous UNSW Roundhouse. 

The sun was still blanketing the sky when Sydney’s SLEEP•MAKES•WAVES hit the stage dressed in their matching black attire. The last time I saw them was at a pre-taco bar Excelsior Hotel (R.I.P.) playing to a total of around thirty people, so I was curious to see how far they’ve come and if their brand of instrumental/atmospheric post rock could hold the attention of a much larger room. The set opens with “To You They Are Birds, To Me They Are Voices In The Forest” from their debut album “…And So We Destroyed Everything” which filled up the vacant room quicker than Kanye West can offend someone after rousing from his self-obsessed slumber. From the opening note the sound was crisper than a post Vesuvius citizen of Pompeii and the boys were loving it. I immediately notice the incredible on-stage chemistry of the musicians, which for a band without a vocalist, is an absolute must. Viking overlord and bassist supreme Alex Wilson is the centre of attention in a love triangle between himself and the other two stringed musicians. As Guitarist Otto Wicks-Green surveyed the crowd his smile formed a perfect semi-circle reminiscent of Fozzy Bear. Percussionist Tim Adderley’s head was constantly gyrating as he threw every ounce of his being into punishing his kit. Guitarist Jonathan Khor rocked out like a quarry and although he didn’t play off the crowd as much as the other three did, he was still just as entertaining. Electronic drums and samples galore added to the pied musical canvas before me as every appendage on stage was flopping around like a nut sack in a sweltering Big Day Out mosh pit. At one point the Sydney based quartet were bobbing their heads to a different beat of the music; Wicks-Green to every forth, Khor to every third, Wilson to every second and Adderley to every beat. I’m not sure if it was planned or merely coincidence but it did amuse me while it was taking place. Guitar straps were the enemy of the band as both Wicks-Green and Wilson had to battle with guitars constantly trying to flee the stage, which had the roadies panicking more than the band seemed to put on. Sleep•Makes•Waves create lush musical landscapes which can be appreciated by people from all walks of life, ranging from pacifist hungry hippies to stubborn metal purists and it is little wonder they have gotten to where they are. Brilliant way to start the night.

After a rather lengthy visit to the world’s worst staffed bar, The Wolverine and I found ourselves back amongst the hot and sweaty crowd to welcome Brisbane’s DEAD LETTER CIRCUS to the arena. DLC are the epitome of bands exploding overnight; my first viewing of them was opening for Superb Lyrebird at the Annandale to twenty people and a mere month or two later, they had sold out the very same venue. The very fact that they were in the support slot showed just how epic the line-up was and when they opened the set with “The Space On The Wall”, the frenzied audience lapped it up. Anyone who has seen the band before knows about staccato friendly bassist Stewart Hill’s supernatural ability to nail his feet to the floor and bend around like the Roly Poly Man. The movement of his body effortlessly accents the position of every note he contributes to the melodies.  Vocalist Kim Benzie’s stage performance has come a long way since the release of DLC’s debut EP. He’s grown from an Ian Kenny impersonator into a whole new manifestation of commanding front-man that is entirely his own and he works the savage crowd like a seasoned conductor orchestrating the finale of Tchaikovsky’s “1812 Overture”. The instantly recognisable and altitude defying tones of his vocals are uniquely Dead Letter Circus and make their concoction of slightly prog inspired alternative rock easily accessible to any person who has ever proclaimed to have a love of music. Hits “The Mile” and “Cage” had the cattle singing along in droves as an orchard of branch-like arms lovingly reached out towards their idols on stage. I was half expecting Luke Williams on the drums to knee himself square in the jaw as his legs sprang off the pedals like a double-bounced cat off a trampoline. The battle continues as he absolutely punishes his snare after the break down of “One Step” which means it’s only a matter of time before one of them gets the better of the other. Six-string advocates Tom Skerlj and Clint Vincent guard the outer walls of the stage with an iron resolve, adding layer upon layer of echoed and delayed guitar work to the fold. Neither of the gargoyles let emotion betray their faces which causes them to look almost bored throughout the duration of the performance. Skerlj sporadically adds some extra stratums of percussion to the music, which visually takes the dynamic of the stage up an extra level to the excitement of a gentleman whipping me in the face with his dirty dreadlocks amid the mosh. DLC played a healthy mix of tracks from all of their releases which seemed to please every face in the room. Of particular note was when Benzie handed a camcorder to the centre security guard effectively making him a security camera (badoom ching). The sentries’ face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning at the chance of being involved in the show. As he handed back the device he proudly screamed out “Well that was a first for me” and resumed his post with a huge smile on his face. The Brisbane ambassadors close the lengthy set with the punchy single “Lodestar” which had Stew stomping around like a freshly angry Bruce Banner and gave the mob one more chance to unify with the band before they left the stage. Incredible set which put the anticipation for the headliner higher than what I had expected.  

Every eye in the room was focused upon the stage when the lights went dark. The tension in the room was denser than an adamantium coated bone claw and the drooling horde were waiting for their cue to start belting out their favourite prog rock anthems. Perth’s KARNIVOOL are welcomed to the platform with a cheer that would rival the decibel levels of the horn of Gondor and the boys waste no time by immediately busting out into the appropriately named monster that is “Goliath”. The sweeping guitars of Drew Goddard and Mark Hosking unify the bobbing heads of the room with a countdown for the advent of the bowel fisting rumbles of Jon Stockman’s beefy brown-noter. Steve Judd’s appendages were flailing around like paladin wielding a morning star as Ian Kenny’s head nodded like a curious cockatoo as he awaited his opening note. The atmosphere in the room was intense like the veins on the neck of a roided up body builder and as he opened his beer hole, the sweaty and overexcited chorus of punters insisted on adding their voices to his every word. EP track “Fade” made an unexpected appearance in the set and the entire room humorously belted out the first line of the song before mumbling the second one; even Kenny had a good laugh at our expense. The mosh was ready to cream their denim when C.O.T.E. had us frothing at the mouth at only three songs into the set. Hosking’s glorious barbarian beard couldn’t hide the child-like enjoyment he was experiencing as he brought the wrath of his twin hammers “Mjolnir” and “MC” down upon his unsuspecting xylophone. Kenny didn’t miss a note during the flawlessly executed “Umbra” as his expressive hands made you feel the raw emotion behind each song. The polyrhythm heavy tracks of “Asymmetry” were welcomed with open arms as Judd works the skins with a surgeon’s precision. “Sky Machine” and “We Are” had the masses swooning over Stockman’s delayed bass hooks and the angsty screams he used in “The Refusal” (which was my pick for the strongest song of the set); right down to the Lannister crimson lighting used to highlight the silhouettes of the prog-rockers. “Set Fire To The Hive” turned the audience into rage zombies by effectively injecting 20cc’s of adrenaline into the already savage punters. Kenny licked his lips as the ever increasing levels of excitement from the crowd became more obvious while Goddard maintained his cool demeanour throughout the set. Karnivool’s go to anthem “Themata” had us jumping like the boys from Kris Kross whilst the slow building “Alpha Omega” had me tingling with excitement of the arrival of Stockman’s thumping bass loop. As the band left the stage, the Karnivool brood voiced that they weren’t having a bar of it by being louder than an army of cats in heat. The Vool were heralded by a king’s welcome upon their return where they opened the encore with the fan favourite “Roquefort” much to the delight of the rabid audience. We jumped one last time and even the intrusive hair of Dreadlocks McSlappyface didn’t seem to bother me. Kenny thanks the crowd and announced the closing track “New Day” which had every security member on staff absolutely bewildered by the passionate crowd participation of the awe inspiring tune. Not  a single mouth in the octagon wasn't singing along to the perfectly chosen track to close this unbelievably ambitious show. The omission of songs such as “Simple Boy”, “Shutterspeed” and my personal favourite “Deadman” didn’t hinder the set one iota and I confidently walked away having witnessed the greatest performance I have ever seen Karnivool put on in my life; and I have seen a lot.

It’s gigs like this that make me go out and watch as many local bands as possible. I am filled with a sense of pride having witnessed all three bands quite early on in their prospective careers and seeing them evolve into rock titans that that are adored by strangers the world over. This success starts in the dingy pubs and dives around the country and without support from the people who claim to love music, then nights like this are going to become less accessible. If you like a support act then add them into your music library and make sure you join them on their journey. One gig a month really isn’t that hard to slip into your calendars.

Don’t be a dick, Sydney! Support the live music scene.

Joshua Towney

https://www.facebook.com/karnivool

https://www.facebook.com/deadlettercircus

https://www.facebook.com/sleepmakeswaves