Today Is Green And Tomorrow Is Blue

Last night I went to the Glasses show in Ghent. I had arranged to do a short interview with them for the ultimate hipstermagazine in the Western world, so we met in some kind of souplounge no too far from the venue a couple of hours before the show. Since the band arrived way to early there was plenty of time for some silly pictures and sillier questions.
It's always a gamble when you really like a band and then you have to interview them. You really don't want them to turn out to be assholes, since it would get all that good music tainted. On the other hand, it's always nice to meet the people behind music that touched you in any way. Luckily, these guys and girl were among the nicest people out of Germany I ever met. The interview went smooth and afterwards we went together to the best place in Belgium to eat French fries, De Frietketel. They played a memorable floorshow (you have to love the spirit behind that) at the Frontline too that night. Check out the next issue of vice-magazine for the interview.

Glasses myspace

The Body Writhes and Twists

A TAAS appreesh-post
I don't really get how they do it. I hate all the ingrediënts - an overload on keyboardtunes, anachronical 70ies vibes, spastic nonsense and stupid long songtitels about trains, drugs, chickens and whatnot - yet the final recipe manages to send shivers down my spine over and over again. Take for example the part in 'Mescaline Eyes', where the music comes to a sudden halt and Snere yells '..and in all there's nothing left' over the unexpected opening abyss below. Or the machinegun-bass that kickstarts 'The Shit Sisters'. That's only what I can recall from the top of my head right now.
The first time i saw them live was two summers ago at the Flufffest in the Czech Republic. It was the evening of the last day. Almost three days of good and bad hardcore, dirt, filth and laughter had gone by, the sun was setting and there was this orange hue all over the place. Some member of the band had stepped into some dogshit, and by the time the second song started, the stage was covered with it, with the singer rolling in it shirtless. How's that for intensity and punk-spirit, you designercrusts?



These Arms Are Snakes is one of those rare bands that makes me want to dance and singalong when I'm listening to them on any kind of public transportation, or that makes me want to halt strangers and say 'listen to that part right here! Isn't that just fucking genius?'. Luckily, shyness is my saviour.