This is it.
No promises. No polished endings. No neatly tied bows.
Just noise, sweat, busted ear drums, and the bitter aftertaste of a good time.
Fawkner were never meant to last forever — bands like this burn out because they have to.
One last night of noise and collapse. Come ugly. Leave uglier.
Joining the funeral pyre:
Bitch Eyes
Hard rock/rap duo from Melbourne who dropped the guitars, dropped the boys, and
turned dirty riffs into a goddamn religion.
Tight, raw, and reckless.
Howling Mountain
Thunderous drums, snarling riffs, and a voice that sounds like it fought its way out of a landslide.
Grunge heart, stoner soul, blues-blood guts.
Built to shake foundations, not to please crowds.
Cat Crawl
90s-soaked alternative from Naarm with distorted bass, surreal choruses and defiant vocals.
Punk bite. New wave dreams. Nightmares you hum along to.
No encores.
No reunions.
No regrets.
