Guttersnipe are one of those bands that sound like they must have half a dozen members, judging by the pure ecstasy of raucousness they emit, when they are actually a duo. It’s the sound of a guitar played with a whole junkyard of scrap metal thrown at it and drums assaulted with telegraph poles, the vocals those of someone trying to escape the resultant carnage and synth stabs designed to deep fry your eardrums and pour bleach into your follicles.

Live, Guttersnipe are truly a force of nature, no other way to describe them. Bobby’s drumming just never lets up – just when you think he’s gone as far as his limbs will let him on one grindcore-coated, kit-wrangling roll, he keeps going and doesn’t let up. Gretchen meanwhile is pure spectacle, sending sparks in all directions as she burns up guitar, synth and her jaw-dropping larynx.

You remember when Lightning Bolt first appeared on the scene and people went nuts for their live shows? Expect a cataclysm of similar proportions when you see Guttersnipe.

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