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Buñuel (top) and Squid Pisser. (All Cat Rose photos) |
By Andy
Buñuel and Squid Pisser: Maximum brain busting and gut gouging musical offerings that are relentless, unhinged and haunting. Once they've oozed their way into your being, there's no escape. You're fucked. And in the best way possible.
Of course, this is something that Cat and I wanted to be a part of in the flesh on our yearly Northern California vacation away from Seattle.
After spending quality time with our pals in San Jose and San Francisco, we trekked it to another friend's house in Sacramento and then onward to Roseville (18 miles beyond the capital city). The gig was moved from Sacto -- perhaps those citizens weren't quite ready for the ferocity and aural mutilation spewed forth from the likes of Buñuel and Squid Pisser. Their loss.
During our jaunt up Eureka Road on Feb. 12, we were on the lookout for The Attic, an all-ages venue that would be home to the evening's pummelfest. We pulled into the address for the club but only found some office spaces and the immense California Backyard store -- which boasts signage stating that it's a Jacuzzi Hot Tub Center.
After roaming around the lot a few times, we spotted The Attic behind the hot tub wonderland and the band's vans situated outside. One van also continuously cruised around the area earlier, seemingly just as confused as we were about where they would unleash their musical carnage.
Once inside, we learned that The Attic's building featured a neighbor -- The Family Church. With no services scheduled that night, it was apparent that the only form of sermonizing would come from the deliverers of crushing tunes, Buñuel and Squid Pisser.
With our old buddy and howling, grinding vocalist Eugene Robinson at the helm of Buñuel -- backed by his sturdy European crew of guitarist Xabier Iriondo, bassist David Haemery and drummer Frank Valente -- they shredded away to the hilt with their noise rock fare that stomped into the hardcore punk and metal realms at points. Just fucking perfect.
Squid Pisser -- all masked up and ready to launch into your face -- were the opening band that could either be yanked out of nightmares or leave you sporting a permanent shit-eating grin. Let's go with both.
The SP dudes who also get their rage on with GWAR, Starcrawler, Duck Duck Goose and other outfits tore The Attic a new one and we can't eliminate them from our minds. If only the congregants of The Family Church would have been there to share the most unholy experience.
Cat Rose got in on the action with this plethora of photos:
Buñuel
Squid Pisser
