Courtney LaPlante of Spiritbox. Photo: Jordan Tan
When the righteous shout, “death to the freaks,” the freaks gather at Knotfest. They gather and have a bloody great time revelling in their derangement.
Drifting through Knotfest as every black-shirted shouty music enthusiast in Melbourne did, we’re greeted with every pillar of our culture. Knotfest is the World Expo of everything dangerous, scary, and downright exhilarating. Some of us expected a lanky top-hatted twirly moustache guy to announce every weird and wonderful thing that was happening like we were in an open-air psycho circus.
“Roll up, roll up! See the incredible chainsaw-wielding juggler! Will they be carving up incredible feats, or their actual feet? In the squared circle, we have Burlysaurus taking on the squirrelly Mouth from the South – his Lariat-Jurassic Punch combo sends his opponents into the stone age!” Nope, no such luck. If that guy was indeed real, he should have been shrieking “Two stages only! No clashes!” at the top of his nicotine-scarred lungs. If those masks on Slipknot were actually washed once in a while, I’d kiss all their faces. Bless you, Slipknot. Er, by Satan of course.
Read the review at Hysteriamag.com