Without a doubt. Undoubtedly. As I picked up the parts of my face that had melted off, I drifted out of the venue on a cloud. A cloud called Lucius Borich. He should be locked up. He plays his drums as if he caught them in bed with his wife. He destroys them. If you haven’t seen him live at some stage in your life than you are doing yourself a great disservice. He is captivating, it is impossible not to be drawn in to his drumming. He takes you from A to B via Z: there is nothing in the world that could stem his creation on a drum kit. It is awe-inspiring. I am in awe. Awe achieved. I am awed.
Andre Gillespie, former vocalist of Scarymother, is a burly, beast of a unit who stares you down as he draws his voice from the depth of his belly. Put those two between Jon Stockman of Karnivool on bass and you will see nothing that could come close to comparing. The rhythm between stockman and Borich was laughable. It was so effortlessly mind-blowing it left you shaking. I don’t know any of their songs, but that CD is not straying to far from my car for the next decade or so.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Do yourself a favour. Fuck.
