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“...they're a bit like what would happen if The Datsuns and QOTSA had done the dirty together in the early noughties, or maybe a much, much, MUCH cooler Black Keys with Arctic Monkeys' sense of humour.”
“Snarling, sweaty, boisterously hurling expletives at you like great big lumps of molten rock, you will either find Wet Nuns ridiculously offensive or ridiculously appealing. One thing’s for certain however, they will most definitely entertain you.”
“these two are tighter than a nun’s bed sheets. Given how justified they would be in slipping into arrogance and pretentiousness, their irreverent and indifferent attitude works for a mesmerising stage presence and lulls the crowd into similar care-free dancing, head-banging, fluid state, which wraps itself around the stage like a kind of awe-filled hug.”
“Wet Nuns might just be my new favourite band. Hailing from Sheffield yet sounding like children of Memphis, Tennessee, these two guys delivered an energetic showcase of bluesy death jams about women, death… and more women. The set consisted of heavy riffs, sweet slide guitar, aggressive call and responce vocals with some strange crowd interaction. Make sure you see this band as soon as you can.”
“You can’t fault the band for enjoying the themselves and having fun but I feel if they don’t become a tighter unit then the joke could be on them.”
“As promised, the spectacle did turn into “Coyote Ugly with hairier people” and Terence stood on the bar and crowd surfed while playing guitar. A few people tried not to land on Clit’s drumkit and barring a few bruises, no permanent damage was attained.”
“Sweat dripped from the walls, moonshine was guzzled, drums were pounded, feedback fed back and the 2 good ole boys gave themselves a high six.”
“The duo tore the roof off and delivered an exhilarating performance, their outstanding showmanship was backed up with great playing and was met with a fantastic reaction from the packed room.”
“...what’s a girl like me to expect from a Wet Nuns gig? I saw pictures of Terrance crowd surfing on two people...”
“Picture this. An unenthusiastic, melancholy duo, with a sole aim of playing a mediocre gig then leaving. Now, completely scratch that and you might be starting to understand the legends that are Wet Nuns.”
“It is usually recommended you don’t have sex with Death.”
“Wet Nuns are a bit of an enigma in that they’ve clearly got the talent but seem to not want to use it.”
"...no offense but their attire ranged somewhere between Dukes Of Hazzard and Deliverance!"
“It was a dark, cold day in October when I meet the infamous Wet Nuns, a couple of talented rabble rousers that dabble in the occasional blues death metal barndance. They hail from Sheffield, Alabama and after chatting with their manager/wrangler, we got together for a spot of chat.”