On a carpet of guitar noise with your shoes gazing back at you, you are getting a warm welcome into the void by Amsterdam four-piece HOWRAH. If porter beer was a rock band, if would be HOWRAH; strong, dark and giving the impression that it’s always been around. And here we are in 2020, the bars closed, the social at distance, the most familial you can get is on an isolated chair at this concert. It will all still be warm and sticky, you’ll leave the room with the itching idea you found yourself a new spiky smudgy family, waving you out with one eye closed and a blush on their face. This band could be your duvet.
A resonating body of sound, a head full of songs, a human jukebox and a storyteller with and without a guitar, unamplified, from Brussels, filling the space, bringing the roots of music in coordination with all our spirits, which will be about thirty this time and the next time, getting all and everything in the room in tune with the universe.
Remember the story of that preacher who was called a fascist by the community while he himself always liked to call people a fascist? That’s just what this song is and isn’t about:
Guillaume Maupin, HOWRAH
Bookings are closed for this event. No tickets will be sold at the door