With the most god-awful guitar sound you’ll ever love, they hammered and screamed through a set that makes Dante’s voyage look like a tiptoe through the tulips.
The young and dramatically sexual vocalist, Thom Yorke, sang with such energy and emotion that he was drenched in a glistening sweat after the first song.
The production is professional without sounding like Ratt; the vocals go beyond the settle-for-Seattlesque sound, with bright, almost Bo Deanish harmonies.
These guys have that toss-your-head-from-side-to-side energy. What they lack in flash, they more than compensate for with catchy hooks and overall fun.