The Thousands

This human is a dangerous instrument. Vulnerability reverberates violently just under his skin. When he opens his mouth there is no classification for his oblique sonic story. He is all performance and induces operational wondering.

He makes you question if life is paused or moving in chronological time. Like a capless pen he inks a room black with noise. Courting sound and dictating assaults, it’s harrowing, howling and yet it’s not a sound you see. It lives inside you, harmoniously.**He barks spasms, cancerous feelings and ecstatic aftermaths. He has made great lions cry. Defying body politics, chest bare or wrapped in various extremities, he performs with immediacy. He’s raw under lights – a bizarre free radial convulsing in song.

This live performance over three consecutive nights, at the medieval Russian Coachmen, will become his first solo album proper. There will be poignant atrocity delivered through palms of sweat. There will be magnetic imperfections and your eyes will be wet. His poetry is addictive and black. It’ll never be what you expect.