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Cunts (US) + Vonnis + Inglorious Castar Hardcore Punk / Thrash

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    » 21:05 Cunts
    » 20:10 Vonnis
    » 19:15 Inglorious Castar
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CUNTS (US) (Hardcore Punk / Thrash)
“This is not a book in the ordinary sense of the word. No, this is a prolonged insult, a gob of spit in the face of art, a kick in the pants to God, Man, Destiny, Time, Love, Beauty... what you will. ”    -Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer   Cunts is an iteration of disgust, a statement of contempt.  In an age when degrees of absurdity are the only accurate unit of measure, Cunts stand defiantly in the face of a declining civilization and thumb their collective nose.  They have no use for lofty ideology or half-cocked idealism.  They do not seek your approval any more than they need your permission; that is to say, not at all.      Comprised of Los Angeles scene vets Michael Crain (Festival Of Dead Deer/Retox/Dead Cross), Sterling Riley (Hepa.Titus/Orphan Goggles), Keith Hendrikson (Virginia Reed/Kill The Capulets), Kevin Avery (Retox/Planet B) and Matt Cronk (Qui), Cunts is a band that requires no explanation.  Since appearing on the LA underground scene in early 2018, Cunts have earned a reputation for their blistering and intense (and often violent) live shows.  Equal parts catharsis and blood-letting, Cunts as a live entity is an unapologetic display of rage and sex, of belligerence and contempt, of body and soul.     Cunts’ self-titled debut will see release on Ipecac Recordings in the Fall of 2019.  Contained therein are 13 tracks of face-ripping violence; no slogans, no manifestos, no appeals to the heart.  The album stands as both score and tribute to society’s imminent, self-inflicted collapse.  Cunts are not here to uplift you, save you, or hold your hand.  Cunts are not beholden to the group-think mentality of anyone or anything.  Cunts do not care what you think. 
VONNIS (BE) (Noise Rock / Crustpunk)
The world is fucked, right? It’s chaos, and it’s only getting worse. And chaotic times yield chaotic music. Vonnis are a typical product of this wretched age we live in. Their first album, Bikini Season, will suck the disoriented listener into a vortex of dread and malig- nancy, placing him or her stark naked in a desolate sonic landscape full of white noise, buzz saw black metal riffing and fierce hardcore attitude. Lyrically, Vonnis hold a gun to your conscience, forcing you to face the duality between doing good for humanity by hurting a few human beings, or being good to some people but hurting mankind as a whole. If you will, it’s the often incestuous relationship between love and hate, with all its complexities and depth, not really in a tattooed fist kind of way. Live, they are an experience. And we don’t mean it as a marketing term, we’re not selling you an event with perfumed cocktails and shallow stage props. No, much in the vein of inspirations like Catharsis, Death Grips, Converge or Trash Talk, Vonnis constantly prove they are the real deal, with physical results like dislocated shoulders or open leg fractures (by band members themselves, no less) this early in their career already proving their disregard for any kind of personal safety. So, it’s time to remove your head from wherever it’s shoved, and stare unflinchingly at the horrible truth, Ludovico Technique-style, for just over the half hour Bikini Season lasts. It’ll be enough, trust us, to leave a permanent mark.