Whithehorse

"their music is subterranean, listening to their songs feels like crawling through filth and depravity and stepping into their show will most likely be like diving into a mass grave on a sunny Sunday afternoon." - Terrorizer Magazine

"White faced terror in the heart of the great pit of darkness, where timeless beings are squashed beneath aeons of frozen blood and the black and fetid menstruation of the Goddess of Despair. Gloating fish faced brethren breathe poisoness gasses into the sleeping forms of the children of teeth, bred by the godless to feast on the souls of the damned. Scarred and frostbitten giants skin themselves alive in front of audiences of crumbling stone, as lime and faeces turns to gold in the streets of Valhalla. Time stands still in the great dome where the last giant harp strums its chords of doom, stars quiver in distant galaxies, where time and space evaporate, and the face of evil grins through the shimmering of the final breathe. The eternal scream that damns us all burns the final hole into the endless horizon, for we are all forsaken, gloom hangs us by the threads of our salvation, our lungs burnt to fine powder and our final memories collected by those that bear the mantle of emptiness, for they are Whitehorse, broken and eternal, their unholy scream an abortion, a sacrifice to the nameless ones whose mouths and stomachs are ever hungry for those who wish to taste the wordless and formless, a fruit that stands between damnation and the true and final joyous apocalypse. Stand before Whitehorse and let their hot primeval wind feed on your being, let their hunger erupt in red and black clouds across an horizon of snow and fire that knows no mercy." - Seldon Hunt 11th of March 2005