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CVLT Nation Captures THOU at St. Vitus

Charles Nickles

Text and Photos: Charles Nickles

Everything is weird and everything is fucked, and, by all accounts, we’re all gonna find ourselves in a hot fresh swill of willfully American existential hell soon (and for a few years, at least), and I don’t know what to do about it in any real and practical sense (though I try and try and try). So I’m giving myself back to heavy with all the abandon of that same fat, pale piece of shit I played for a good thirteen years in LA until my skull cracks in a fit of Marshall stack and Orange cab epiphany and I can see the blood red light of true, unselfish madness which will elucidate an unwavering path to right, however many centuries the white male patriarchy has been trying to shove its limp, wet (entirely unremarkable) dick into the proverbial ass of the comic conscience.


I guess I did make a resolution this year.


Thick bass undulation, glacial effects and coyote screams. This is backyard arson music as meditation for apartment youth.

Unearthly Trance

Unearthly Trance appeared on the lamb’s blood scene around the time I decided I needed to dedicate my ears to pure art fuckery so I was woefully unprepared for what a grimy mess of savagery they’d be delivering this evening. Total deep-fried dirtbag doom leeched out from New York waste. They’ll have a new record out soon. It’ll likely fucking destroy you.



I have trouble believing that Thou are real even though I’ve seen their corporeal forms. Touched them as one would a mortal man, and was rather pleasantly surprised at how unlike ogres they appeared. Rather thin, really. Warm and fucking friendly. But the trappings of their skin and personage belie a furious organism that wriggles and writhes and lurches up from the grim dust of ancient centuries to cry out the human folly with an anvil and an awl.

I mean, they are fucking huge, dude. Their sound and scope so massive, their relentless virtue so goddamn true even the New Yorker took pause to quip conflicted platitudes (the BO joke is beneath you), but what rag can attest to the crush/kill salvation of Thou without offering themselves to the ire and letting the black of the blood run through you.

Written By

Meghan MacRae grew up in Vancouver, Canada, but spent many years living in the remote woods. Living in the shadow of grizzly bears, cougars and the other predators of the wilderness taught her about the dark side of nature, and taught her to accept her place in nature's order as their prey. She is co-founder of CVLT Nation.

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