The world is fucked, right? It’s chaos, and it’s only getting worse. And chaotic times yield chaotic music. Vonnis are a typical product of this wretched age we live in. Their first album, Bikini Season, will suck the disoriented listener into a vortex of dread and malignancy, placing him or her stark naked in a desolate sonic landscape full of white noise, buzz saw black metal riffing and fierce hardcore attitude.
Lyrically, Vonnis hold a gun to your conscience, forcing you to face the duality between doing good for humanity by hurting a few human beings, or being good to some people but hurting mankind as a whole. If you will, it’s the often incestuous relationship between love and hate, with all its complexities and depth, not really in a tattooed fist kind of way.
Live, they are an experience. And we don’t mean it as a marketing term, we’re not selling you an event with perfumed cocktails and shallow stage props. No, much in the vein of inspirations like Catharsis, Death Grips, Converge or Trash Talk, Vonnis constantly prove they are the real deal, with physical results like dislocated shoulders or open leg fractures (by band members themselves, no less) this early in their career already proving their disregard for any kind of personal safety.
So, it’s time to remove your head from wherever it’s shoved, and stare unflinchingly at the horrible truth, Ludovico Technique-style, for just over the half hour Bikini Season lasts. It’ll be enough, trust us, to leave a permanent mark.
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