Robotosaurus

February 8 2007: The trashy nightclub had sold out hours before hand. The supports have been and gone. The lights were dim and there was a hum amongst the crowd. Friends had been talking about the first show for well over a year. The anticipation was swelling as people were jostling for position. When the first stomach-churning chord rung out there was no denying things would be different from that point on.
Robotosaurus have now been together for over four years. They have played countless shows, crossed our country many times, released two EP's and a debut Album and yet…. there is still no easy way to categorise them. They are usually piled into the endless pit of genres that end with 'core' however they only share minor shards of continuity with these groupings of bands. They manage to shake off the repetitiveness that dogs the majority of hardcore by drawing influences from all types of sounds and using this inspiration to sow new seeds. This undercurrent of revolt is further exposed in the songs written post Manhater, shifting them spiritually closer towards acts like Pissed Jeans or the new super group Justin Pearson will start this year. Where other bands over-philosophise their output, Robotosaurus de-intellectualise by not looking back and continuously writing. Insecurities and regrets do not plague them, only the thoughts of being like another band.
The experience of watching Robotosaurus play live can be described as crazy, loud, unique and vital. They are fronted by twin, razor edged guitarists that have the balls to pilot the band through spazzed grind sections that are juxtaposed against dirty, punk-rock riffs and blink and you'll miss'em breakdowns. Out front they have a vocalist that pleads on his hands and knees, dripping in honesty, screaming out gut wrenching, Charles Bukowskian tales of eternal boozing and self-destruction. More often than not they leave the audience screaming for more.
Recently returning from a hardworking tour in the US, they momentarily lied low for a few months to decide where the band will go next. Thankfully for the rest of us a course has been carved out and they are back in the studio ready to hand out a new record of fucked up noise and damage.
All bets are on this record kicking your arse.
Benjamin Cooper (Bronze Chariot)