A Place To Bury Strangers

What I can only describe as a neolithic tribal deity ritual that should have been performed at Göbekli Tepe instead of Great American, it’s damn-near impossible to describe what an APTBS show actually is.  Playing a full third of the show with, inside and around the audience, they are feral creatures of the great wall of sound and ministers of chaos, certainly a band not to be missed.  The trio, Oliver Ackermann on guitar/vocals, bass, John Fedowitz on bass guitar and Sandra Fedowitz on drums, never stopped never stopping in the best way possible.  With roots in shoegaze, prog-rock and psychedelia (with a definte hat-tip to Black Sabbath), APTBS is something much more profound than a punk performance: it’s the letting loose of acoustic howling wolves onto an unsuspecting crowd.  Fedowitz, the brass knuckles of the band, sunglass-clad, nonchalantly carved out a dinosaur-bone percussive section that Dave Grohl and GG Allin would be proud of—while Ackermann, quite possibly an honest-to-god wizard, evinced some kind of pentecostal unholiness, opening their performance by deadpanning “…It’s haunted” (obviously), before launching “In The Wind” and “You Are The One”, conjuring a Charybdis of a mosh pit.  The band Pied-Pipered the sweating crowd-swell into apoplectic ignition and feverish Vitus dance, swinging seizure-inducing strobelights and letting the crowd get loose on some of their equipment.  APTBS is nothing short of a heavy breath of recognition that Dionysus is still alive and well, and he is ready to fucking rock.  Of course you should check out their Spotify if you’re attempting farm-to-table necromancy, but truly, this outfit is an in-person assignment.  Go.