Welcome to the second installment of the snarky, irreverent world of Rimshots, reconstituted for the online world that is Hellbound.ca. Enjoy them, because I know I didn’t. After suffering through this crop of crap, all I have to ask is: Sean, dude, what did I ever do to you?!
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Hellbound is always there, lurking in the crowd, while the band blisters the very air.
Metal still sounds best on large, round pieces of pressed vinyl. The smell, the artwork – and it gets played through a needle.
It’s been about a week since I returned from The Mistake on the Lake, with many memories of my stay. The wildly energetic performance of almost- 60-year-old Bobby Liebling, the massive collection of artifacts at the Rock ‘n Roll Hall of Fame–the bitchy cab drivers who didn’t wanna break a 20, the prying border guards who searched my bag… Well, they weren’t all fond memories. But all in all, twas a highly enjoyable excursion.
Like the rodents they are named after, The White Mice are an elusive target. Here are the known facts; the band is from Providence, R.I. They released the wonderfully twisted Ganjahovadose via 20 Buck Spin last year. They’ve recorded a slew of splits and EPs with titles like Mouse of Mendes and Do They Know It’s Christmice? Their symbol is a rodent’s face scrawled on a pentagram. The music? Bass, distortion pedal and drums with liberal electronic effects and samples where applicable. They’ve been categorized as industrial, noise, art rock and noisegrind. Perhaps a better description would be unclassifiable.
Live review by Ola Mazzuca; Photos by Adam Wills
There is a certain magic quality about metal shows; magic in which no matter what age you are or how you dress, you can still be a part of something larger than life, like the people in Dissection shirts who thrashed out to Exodus or that girl in front of me with that gorgeous Michael Kors handbag. It doesn’t really matter. There is no difference as to who you are or where you’re from; it’s a metal show and everyone is there …