They say this about Rocket bands:
GNOD
Scrupulous note-takers that we are, we hereby report our initial reaction to Grim Brides in its entirety: ‘Who the Fuck KNOWS’. This was quickly followed by GNOD, of which we wrote ‘GNOD – ARE GLORIOUS’, and, showcasing the peak of our literary prowess with our last act of the night, we merely wrote down ‘CONTAINER’ and left any further composition for the cold, hungover light of our post-PZYK Sunday. If you missed these three, you missed out.
Reeling out of that, we went straight into GNOD. Titanic. Crushing. One wonders how a band that sound like a tuneful avalanche actually practice. Perhaps in a nuclear shelter somewhere. For the Douglas Adams/Hitch-Hikers Guide fans out there, this is perhaps the closest you’ll get to hearing Disaster Area...
PigsPigsPigsPigsPigsPigsPigs
As the weekend progresses District becomes the venue of peak paranoia at the back of your mind, constantly checking the time because you know if you don’t get there early, you won’t get in at all. Because of this it’s been able to lay claim to some of the best and most frantic Psych Fest performances of recent years. Add PigsPigsPigsPigsPigsPigsPigs to the list.
Getting in 20 minutes early there’s a rather nice man on stage, politely asking for incredibly specific amounts of delay, reverb and rotations. Shirt buttoned up and tucked in he could have quite easily come straight from the office, which made what followed all the better.
The thumbs up from the tech was all they needed to rip loose and get on the business end of a bottle of Buckfast (or two). Their front-man who was before so smartly presented rapidly unravels as he attacks the microphone, which has no problem fighting back, at one point coming close to lynching the singer. A crowd of heads begin to punctuate every beat and barely fault for the sets entirety.
Read the full piece here: Planet Slop
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