Orchestral songs without pompousness. Raw riffs. Simple and repetitive chords you wanna play with much excitation. Riffs that hurt your wrist and cover your guitar with blood. Riffs that once layered form an atypical, choral and fairly violent post-rock. Like a big cake, made of real and healthy ingredients, nutritive, fat as fuck and surprisingly digest.
About Clôture: Jura. A chalet in the middle of the fields. Our favourite fellowship facing a wall of amps. A new drummer tight as hell coaching the team. Second hand tapes burned by distortion. Instrumental and brawny rock, with tender parts, flesh, nerves and guts. Clear friendship here, skillfully mastered with foamy beers and split cymbals.