It reads:
What a racket; and the headliners, the Swedish group Flowers Must Die, were just incredible. Signing off the evening with a perverse treat of ’70s disco-delics, a malestormed joy akin to those Finnish rockers Circle, full of hungry basslines, moshy directives and retracted bites that were definitely more wayward than their recent (stunning) studio offering suggests. An overloaded hand with echoic oh(ings) of vocals from Lisa Ekelund flung through its soulful soupiness, the odd whir of Theremin or rub of violin adding to the delirium.
The backdrop screen filled the place with vivid flashes of colour, every song topsy-turving a never-ending parade of sonic treats, hijacking all objectivity on speculative scissors and ransomed trajectories, errant eurovisions purring a surprise of Miko-esque vocals that skipped faunishly through. The sound was instinctively everywhere, burning up on funky eruptions and cobras of Egyptian flute, the lead guitarist treating his frets to beer-bottled abstractions between doodling in these super-hot riffs that literally exploded in your head.
An intense experience, into which a newly announced song arrived, splattered in a Pollock-esqe verve of squally spurred delight. A flame of distortion to majestic eagles filling the screen as Icarus-like double vocals plunged on through the flanging keys, the vocalist pleading “centipedes on your knees”… “oh please”… “oh pleaseeeeeee!”
Flowers Must Die were a joy-inlaid juggernaut that left your inner child literally ragged.
Read the full review of the night here: Freq
---
