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CUNNINLYNGUIST
CUNNINLYNGUIST
4.20.2014
Mogwai
Mogwai
4.21.2014
Jimmy Thackery
Jimmy Thackery
4.21.2014
WAXAHATCHEE
WAXAHATCHEE
4.21.2014
Cage The Elephant
Cage The Elephant
4.22.2014
The Black Lillies
The Black Lillies
4.23.2014
Trampled By Turtles
Trampled By Turtles
4.24.2014
YOU (ALBUM RELEASE)
YOU (ALBUM RELEASE)
4.24.2014
The Lymbs
The Lymbs
4.25.2014
Natty Vibes
Natty Vibes
4.26.2014
REGGAE AT THE LAUNCHPAD
REGGAE AT THE LAUNCHPAD
4.26.2014
Dillinger Escape Plan
Dillinger Escape Plan
4.28.2014
Sons of Fathers
Sons of Fathers
4.28.2014
Old Man Markley
Old Man Markley
4.29.2014
*The Old Danny Brown Tour
*The Old Danny Brown Tour
4.30.2014
KADAVAR
KADAVAR
4.30.2014
Chiodos
Chiodos
5.1.2014
B-Side Players
B-Side Players
5.3.2014
Through The Roots
Through The Roots
5.4.2014
NEON ICON feat. RIFF RAFF
NEON ICON feat. RIFF RAFF
5.5.2014
 
 
rocksquawk

On: Goggles, Crushes, a Saw Factory, the Wrench

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Rusalka

Rain and rain and rain

+ sweaty me + facepaint = eye bath in the blazes. Later, I will dump 4 oz. of beer directly into my left eye when flailing dancers erupt because the Hot White chick is twisting on the floor all pained and sexy and furious. I should have worn the goggles.

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Christina the Hun

Night two of Titwrench.

Let me tell you about Rusalka. Crushing, just crushing. Audience presses in tight, clumps around her table on the floor. We contract as she pulses. Some people get all choked up. And I don’t think it’s because they’re sad.

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Burrow Owl

Christina the Hun plays drums and sings/speaks/shouts. Her drumming punches one in the neck? Nah. More like a hearty back slap that stings. Her lyrics definitely finger one’s guts. She finishes each song with a sheepish chuckle.

Burrow Owl reads like some high-frequency priestess ushering in piercing, saw factory-like sonics with slight movements of her raised arm.

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Hell-Kite

Hell-Kite’s voice is probably my favorite of the weekend. And that’s saying something because singing talent squirts amply from the Tit(wrench).

And more. More I didn’t film.

Someone else will have to tell you about night three. Jobs, etc., yank us back home. Driving out of Denver we wonder: How will the festival organizers make it through another night? After Friday, they look spent. After Saturday? Damn. And still, another frantic, astonishing evening in front of them. Can’t wait for 2010. Thank you, women of the wrench.

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