London. Sense of urgency. The city vibrates between marble, brick, steel and glass. People live their lives disconnected in the street canyons amongst towering skyscrapers and crumbling sheds.
Everybody rushes by, a coffee to go, off to the next hustle. A metropolis is moving to the hammering sound of garage house and the shredding guitars of punk. But beneath the surface, there's melancholy, loneliness, sadness. It's an intoxicating thing.
We're roaming the streets, walking by shimmering lights, piles of garbage, trying to navigate between the lurching drunks. Ah-hoo... Werewolves of London! How does one survive this fierce love-hate the city spills over its citizens like the surging sea?
And now I sit here at Grounded coffee house in Whitechapel, the heart-shaped foam of my Cappuccino fading with every sip. Whitney Houston sings: "Bring me your higher love!"
Violent post-punk from Glasgow. Heartbeat is a synth-driven massacre, plowing forward mercilessly. VLURE pair post-punk's sadness with industrial's anger. And it hits like a shot to the heart. You can feel pearls of sweat building in your neck.
I'm going to dance 'til my body's numb!