Whores’ drawers, I fucking LOVE Kvelertak.
A little green of gill and somewhat gig-jaded, there was notable anti-anticipation around these parts as the clock ticked down towards time-to-get-off-my-arse o’clock.
You see the sour taste of The Sword remained and while High on Fire wobbled my jowls pleasingly with their vibrating air, the crowd carried the faintest whiff of dickhead.
Combine that with my suspicions around the unfamiliar venue – everything in Camden inherently veers towards shithole-status – and the stoke levels were minimal.