One of the joys of going to a music festival is hearing a band for the very first time and being knocked off your socks by them. So it proved with York’s The Bastard Sons who, when not coming over as the more redneck, trailer park dwelling cousins of Clutch delivered a furious set of hard, bourbon soaked, scorching rock fury.
Not that sounding anything like Clutch is a criticism of course- far from it.
Very far from it.
Within their dirty rock n roll arsenal there is a real sense of fun; this is a party band who understand the power of rock n roll in delivering a good time. And so it proves. O, Brothel Where Art Thou is a cracking example of what I’m talking about- energised, aggresive but with a significant glint in the eye.
Most of the set provides similarly delightful fayre: in front man JJ they have a man who has quite clearly been kicked off the set of the latest Peter Jackson movie for having had too much bourbon. Middle Earth’s loss is self evidently Hammerfest’s gain. Pulverizing and hilarious in often equal measure.