“Warning the man who wrote this report was on cocaine, redbull and a lot of whiskey, he was also told he was going to a grindcore and death metal fest, so all the doom seriously harshed his buzz and made him extra critical, do not take him seriously”.
Under the Doom? That retarded faggot partyboy told me we were going to Butchery at Christmas, what the fuck am I doing in Lisbon? Shit!
Anyway, might as well get this over with. The first band was called “Woebegone Obscured”. Really? You just threw words in a blender and that splattered onto the wall right? Perfect, great choice you guys. We got there in the middle of the last song and they still took FOREVER to end the damn song.
Then they finally did it, I was happy and about to light a joint when they told me I couldn’t smoke in the venue! Seriously? A fucking DOOM festival and you can’t fucking smoke? Why didn’t I go to Butchery instead? I bet they are throwing beer and weed in each other’s faces right on the front line.
Anyway, we went out, we smoked, came back in time to see these Hipsters called “Lobo” trying to do music but they just sounded bad and boring. The first O in their name has two little dots like Motorhead, my keyboard doesn’t do that shit, stop being pretentious dicks and just write like normal people do. Also, check out my new website, it’s going to be called Trve Kvlt Mvsic for Metal Masters, it’s going to be the shit.
After that came the sailors “Ahab”, their music gave me sea sickness because it felt like I was on a fucking boat, I went to throw up and missed the rest of the show.
Then was “Draconian” a gothic doom band, just what you need when you’ve downed a pack of redbulls, a bottle of scotch and cocaine. Slow, whining music about sadness and how gloomy it is to be sad. I liked them back when I had no chest hair and Lisa Johansson was singing, that new girl just butchered the lyrics. My god, I can’t believe I still remember the lyrics.
One Night Under sad, depressive, sex starved, love believing fags, I was the only person doomed on the fucking premises, I will never forgive partyboy for this, he kept insisting that I drink, he brought the redbull, and he gave me the cocaine guy’s number, the bastard. Kept banging his head all night, I’m rooting for brain damage.
Text by Hugh Dick