Firethorn

Southern California has an image problem. Although its fine residents know better, many outsiders look to it as a Mecca of ex-hippies and over-paid businessmen in wetsuits, whose spoiled brats litter the beaches and will never know an honest day’s work. This image is undoubtedly perpetuated in part by SoCal’s musical offerings in recent years. Despite the voices of those who screamed before (SST happened just up the higway), the spotlight has been given to whiny suburban pop punk, the lackluster of American-British-indie-disco, and the devoid-of-all-substance rehash of 80s synth music.



Beneath the façade of endless summer, however, something is stirring. From underneath the rocks and piers in San Diego, voices are emerging to dispel the rumors of media-produced fantasy and embrace the humanity that exists here under the sun.



With musical cues from their heroes like Fugazi, Mudhoney, Nirvana, and Nomeansno coupled with an insatiable lust for live performance, FIRETHORN have been capably carrying the torch of aggressive music throughout the southwest, adding their own style of kicking the sand in your eye while still leaving you with something to sing in your head for the ride home.



In a world covered in scarves and make-up, who will profess the beauty of blemished, flawed nature? Who can bend your mind with noise-drenched sing-alongs that blur the lines between the thunder stance and skipping to school??? Who can leap through the monitors and grind their dissident wails into the floor of your soul, leaving you moaning for more, More, MORE?!?!?!



Firethorn exists to satisfy these primal musical urges . . . and they have a bubble machine.