The bladders of a thousand skinny puppy fans
Viewing Severed Heads on the industrial floor of Slimelight was... Actually entirely appropriate. So was bumping into lovely people while on the way out and then comprehensively missing any likely bus because of jabbering about, er, stuff.
The setlist is probably elsewhere on the internet already, but 'Goodbye tonsils' at volume = kidney-wobbling was surprisingly hallucinogenic. In that like all older Sevs tracks, it is at least two tunes fighting for supremacy, which in the privacy and comfort of yr own nocturnal fondlings you can intellectualise away like it was complicated jazz.
However, in a scrotty club when you've been on the ale and the smoke-machine and then packed into a seething mass of people worrying if they're going to get home in time for the babysitter...
Fuck it, they were really good and played a pile of Clifford hits.
Meanwhile, the Wikipeejah page for City Slab Horror is a delight and I salute 124.170.134.29 for an entirely appropriate version of events:
The album was reviewed by reviewers. Andy Hurt of Sounds magazine wrote that it is "one of the most accomplished, complete works in recent years" and gave the record 4 and 3 quarter and one fifth and a tiny bit more stars out of five. One reviewer pontificated that "with [City Slab Horror], "the Heads" have cemented their place at the forefront of the electronic experimentalists".[5] He was obviously a tosser so most people took no notice of him and as expected Severed Heads has been relegated to the position of something that is only cited by anoraks and one or 2 commercial bands who have members claiming to be influenced by Skinny Puppy.
Christ, but Skinny Puppy were shite. But then alt.gothic was filled with people American students alleging that the most cock-awful rackets were dead Goth and everything. Boyd fucking Rice for instance. No. Just no. Or 'NON', perhaps. I kind of went along with it at the time because there was no useful way of checking w/o sodding off down to Resurrection and paying the splendid Andy and/or Katrina to find out.
The setlist is probably elsewhere on the internet already, but 'Goodbye tonsils' at volume = kidney-wobbling was surprisingly hallucinogenic. In that like all older Sevs tracks, it is at least two tunes fighting for supremacy, which in the privacy and comfort of yr own nocturnal fondlings you can intellectualise away like it was complicated jazz.
However, in a scrotty club when you've been on the ale and the smoke-machine and then packed into a seething mass of people worrying if they're going to get home in time for the babysitter...
Fuck it, they were really good and played a pile of Clifford hits.
Meanwhile, the Wikipeejah page for City Slab Horror is a delight and I salute 124.170.134.29 for an entirely appropriate version of events:
The album was reviewed by reviewers. Andy Hurt of Sounds magazine wrote that it is "one of the most accomplished, complete works in recent years" and gave the record 4 and 3 quarter and one fifth and a tiny bit more stars out of five. One reviewer pontificated that "with [City Slab Horror], "the Heads" have cemented their place at the forefront of the electronic experimentalists".[5] He was obviously a tosser so most people took no notice of him and as expected Severed Heads has been relegated to the position of something that is only cited by anoraks and one or 2 commercial bands who have members claiming to be influenced by Skinny Puppy.
Christ, but Skinny Puppy were shite. But then alt.gothic was filled with people American students alleging that the most cock-awful rackets were dead Goth and everything. Boyd fucking Rice for instance. No. Just no. Or 'NON', perhaps. I kind of went along with it at the time because there was no useful way of checking w/o sodding off down to Resurrection and paying the splendid Andy and/or Katrina to find out.