High on Fire. Brudenell Social Club. Leeds 2022.


On a hot midsummer day in England in 2022 Matt Pike and his band, High on Fire,  made it rain.
The tribes were gathering outside The Brudenell in Leeds and at first it looked like a pissing contest about who was wearing the most obscure band name t shirt. We all managed to squeeze into the sweaty venue when opening act Dvne ceremoniously set the scene with some virtuoso guitar playing and top level screaming. Well done.
What we all wanted now though was the sonic Spetsnaz to drag Zelensky on stage, slap a Ukraine flag emoji to his forehead and hack his head off with a blunt longsword. In other words we wanted liberation! We wanted heavy 60 tonne tanks to roll over libtard eggshell minds and we wanted to hear them pop whilst leaving behind nothing but the red slime of insincerity and cowardice. The UK is now a big open air easy going prison and as High on Fire walk around Oakland California with Glocks concealed in lumberjack shirts. We English settle for home made shanks made out of rusty Christ nails to stick in some thugs eye socket as we wait for the night bus home. So Bring It!
The music starts along with the downpour outside and on the opening song Matt Pike gobs on the stage contemptuously five or six times and blows his nose onto his bare chest and guitar. These motherfuckers rock heavier than a Russian Cruise missile attack. As the moshpit goes wild we want to toss Zelenskys lifeless corpse around to expell the COVID tyranny like rabid dogs for the lost two years we spent under house arrest. All those months caged like a slavering wolf listening to wankers who hadn't touched a woman's body for ten years telling us to get used to the new normal! What Porn hub and Zoom calls? Fuck Off? The Sonic Spetsnaz have now turned us all into wanker hating, red meat eating, panty ripping maniacs, even if it's just for an hour or two. Yes we will go home to civilization and go to Church on Sunday. Even if it's nature's Church. A walk in the English countryside followed by a processed meat sandwich and a posh coffee made at home. We left the walls of the venue dripping with sweat, blood and cum or at least that's how it felt. The inner soyboy had been destroyed and rebuilt by mad Oakland Scientists. Turned into a part metal, street fighting Beserker with a ripped off t shirt in the rain and a prayer for lightning to annihilate the sainitized bullshit of the online world 

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