ECTIO & Mother Bear

In the organizer's words:

Kurt Cobain once said that the only tie-dye shirt he would wear would be dyed with the blood of Jerry Garcia. And the stoner doom band Mother Bear sounds exactly like that: somewhere between patchouli and piss, between a burnt-out tube in the guitar amp and a kicked-over acrylic bong.

The riffs are as bone-dry as the permanent cardboard mouth flavor of a pimply teenager. Kevin's bass sound is heavier than the burden of being bullied at school for reading fantasy books. Singer Jonas sounds like he's downing a leftover Pernod from the night before through his greasy throat, and Florian's snare is reminiscent of the muffled sound you heard the last time your ex-girlfriend threw a heavy glass ashtray at your skull during an argument. With their second album "Orm 2", the three losers from Dortmund impressively demonstrate that you don't have to come from Louisiana, Palm Desert or Dorset to write boring doom songs about fantasy novels and ignore the mold problem in the rehearsal room. The soundtrack for people whose only interpersonal contact consists of regularly shouting at the cashier in the supermarket, for 30-year-olds who still hang out on drunken halfpipes and don't pay child support or are simply too shy to admit that they would much rather read Walter Moers than watch mediocre sexploitation films with half-hard cocks.

Get the fuck out of my room, mom!