Articles by Harry Holmes
I rolled up my trouser legs and got stuck in. Under an hour later I am soaked through in the chemical sweat of a dozen half-naked Welsh lads, and no it’s not a chemsex party, it’s Cattle Decapitation smashdown time.
Here was a savage Tuesday night line-up, not stuck in a genre rut but with a unifying viciousness and intent to explore that crisis point. Much as Old Market and the Bristol crowd is practically home, I spent a fair bit of the night feeling out of my comfort zone, as a listener and as a writer, but then what comfort is there in the face of such a range of alienating horror? Harry Holmes reports back from seeing Full Of Hell in Bristol.