MONOLORD, OOZING WOUND, BRUGES

MONOLORD, OOZING WOUND, BRUGES

When

Mon, April 29    
8:30 pm

Where


Map Unavailable

Monolord / Oozing Wound / Bruges

Mon, Apr 29The Empty Bottle

$15 (advance); $18 // 21+

Scorched Tundra & Empty Bottle present Monolord

In 2013, MONOLORD first emerged from their native Gothenburg, Sweden behind an impenetrable wall of distortion and spell-binding vocals. The outside world took notice in a big way as the trio of Thomas V Jäger [vocals, guitars], Esben Williams [drums], and Mika Häkki [bass] garnered a flurry critical acclaim for their RidingEasy Records debut, Empress Rising, a year later. “From day one, it’s always been our aim to bui

ld a massive wall of rumbling sound,” declares Thomas. “That’s our common goal. We’re the exact opposite of a band consisting of members with identical record collections. We come from three fairly different places, but we’re all drawn to dark, heavy, and gritty music. What we do in MONOLORD is the result of that creative conflict between us—that’s conflict in the word’s positive sense.” Ultimately, MONOLORD offers shelter from some of that darkness. “I hope we can be an outlet to the massive and destructive stupidity surrounding us all,” Thomas concludes. “This band is our safety valve. We hope the same goes for our fans.”

No better band to rip you out of your haze and throw back into another than OOZING WOUND. The thrashing trio has just celebrated the release of of their fourth Thrill Jockey, High Anxiety, and they’re back for more. The Wound makes the people go insane with their simultaneously hilarious and terrifying blend of heavy riffage, crushing rhythms and piercing screams. All three original OOZERs cut their teeth in some beloved local bands (CACAW, ZATH, UNMANNED SHIP, BAD DRUGS) and they’re widely known around these parts to deliver one of the most brutal live shows in town.

BRUGES features members of Angry Gods, Den, and Moral Void paying worship to repetitive noise. A pummeling onslaught of noise like an ooze-covered wrecking ball, swinging sludge back and forth onto your unsuspecting soul. Prepare to be fucking obliterated.