"Got a fistful of butterflies / Nobody look directly in my eyes / Yeah this thing is about to blow / If you duck and cover save your soul..."
The hyper thrasher rock shredding of "butterflies" by Albany, New York alt rock / power punk outfit the Snorts is like a synoptic vision of 24 years of the Vans Warped Tour (RIP) all in one song. Not that it is anything like skater punk, no, this super spicy, bloody fingered, carpal tunnel syndrome creating maniacal barrage of sounds feels uniquely different. If I have to distill the sound, maybe (MAYBE) I would say that "butterflies" feels somewhat like the metalcore emo angst of Poison The Well and the abstract bipolar alt rock of Faith No More gleefully smushed together. I can also say with all the honesty that this sound is not my normal cup of tea but something about the diverse vocal spread here and the absolute unrelenting post hardcore shapes feels singularly different than a lot of this fare.
On your own
I don’t think you need any…
Help from me at all
You’re running into madness
With all the love I doubt you have
So make up the answers
Cause you’re just burning out here on your own
Yeah you’re out on your own
No one knows where it goes
Yeah you’re out on your own
That’s where my brain goes."
In the end "butterflies" slaps you senseless and might even bloody you up if you are not careful. It is my first glimpse of the Snorts upcoming EP "pitter patter".
-Robb Donker Curtius
https://open.spotify.com/artist/1xNqX2tWhzFu37OQD7OM7y
https://www.instagram.com/thesnorts.band/
https://www.thesnorts.com/
https://thesnorts.bandcamp.com/album/pitter-patter
The details of the Snorts are quite inconsequential... very well, where do we begin? Our lead singer and guitar player is a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low-grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. Our drummer and producer is a fifteen-year-old French prostitute with webbed feet. Our lead guitar player would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes our bassist would accuse chestnuts of being lazy—the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. Our first show was typical. Sloppy but with a lot of gusto showing promise to the aristocratic audience on the shores of the Long Island Sound. After the show we made meat helmets. When we were insolent, we were placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard, really. At our second show, we received our first scribe. At the our third show, a Zoroastrian named Vilma shaved our testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking- we suggest you try it.
THE FACTS AS WE KNOW THEM
https://open.spotify.com/artist/1xNqX2tWhzFu37OQD7OM7y
https://www.instagram.com/thesnorts.band/
https://www.thesnorts.com/
https://thesnorts.bandcamp.com/album/pitter-patter
The details of the Snorts are quite inconsequential... very well, where do we begin? Our lead singer and guitar player is a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low-grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. Our drummer and producer is a fifteen-year-old French prostitute with webbed feet. Our lead guitar player would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes our bassist would accuse chestnuts of being lazy—the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. Our first show was typical. Sloppy but with a lot of gusto showing promise to the aristocratic audience on the shores of the Long Island Sound. After the show we made meat helmets. When we were insolent, we were placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard, really. At our second show, we received our first scribe. At the our third show, a Zoroastrian named Vilma shaved our testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking- we suggest you try it.
No comments:
Post a Comment