The Wytches Write For Clash

Strap yourselves in for a bumpy ride...

Autumn is rapidly descending, and it's time for the wytch-ing hour.

The Wytches recently unveiled new cut 'C-Side', and it could well be their strongest single yet: stark, gothic, yet also boasting the sort of nagging ear-worm melody that stays lodged in your mind for days.

Clash invited the band to pen something for Clash, something that would sum up the frame of mind they're in – we got back a little more than we bargained for…

Gianni Honey penned some words, while Kristian Bell crafted the illustration.

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My eyes were heavy. It was bright and they were hard to open. I'd fallen asleep on the night tube, it was deserted. Evidently none of my fellow citizens had woken me up. I rose and clambered onto the platform. As I walked I realised the signs were in a language I couldn't decipher. Symbols that looked like hazard signs. Pedestrian clocks without the moving hands. I clambered on, more excited than freaked out. I'd had a disappointing night. I wanted my mind to take me.

My ears began to pop and the lights flickered. Rumbling. Shaking. Unsteady feet and then dust began to fall. I was scared and fell to my knees in prayer, "God, if you're there, save me and my wonderful hair…' My ears popped and BOOM! The walls exploded.

Withering around in tears I came to. The tunnel was no longer a tunnel. I had been thrown onto the tracks. I was covered in rocks and dust. The odd emergency lights cast a faint glow, the dust melted into my vision. Faintly I heard three curious sounds, music, scratching and squeaks.

I looked up and there stood a rat and a giant cockroach. They looked at me blankly. "Hello" I said. "Hello Mr Human". "What happened?" I asked. "Nuclear war" they said. "You're probably the last one left…' They started brushing me down and helped me up. "Wanna come to a show?" they asked. "Our end of the line extravaganza" Mr Rat said laughing. "Ok" I replied. "Fuck it". They nodded and began scampering down the tracks. I followed. Jogging.

As I jogged I began to fall behind, like one of those weird running dreams. "Wait up" I panted. Everything looked so much bigger. My surroundings had taken on a monochrome hue. It was as if I had shrunk and become colourblind.

Mr Rat had turned around and was running back. He was the biggest fucking rat I'd ever seen. The grand canyon of all rats! "Hop on" he said. I dare not disagree so I jumped on. The wind suddenly rushed all around me. He was like the Ferrari of all rats! Where were they taking me?

As we hurtled through the tunnel, me, Mr Rat and Mr Roach, the sound of pounding music got louder and louder. We pulled up to a crack in the wall. "We're here" Mr Roach proclaimed over the noise. I jumped down and we scuttled through. Rats and Roaches were going wild, they were hanging off chandeliers made of coke cans and crowd surfing and moshing and having the time of their lives! It was loud and it was electric.

Onstage was a Cockroach wearing a bandana, shredding a guitar with all his insect might. He was looked in some kind of intense jam battle with a rat in high waisted trousers and a simple beige shirt, his voice was deeper than the deepest tunnel. It dawned on me that I was watching the reincarnation of Jimi Hendrix and Ian Curtis jamming onstage.

I pushed my way through the crowds of insects and rats, they pulsated in unison. I scuttled onto the stage and with limbs flailing outwards I feel back onto the crowd. The rats on their hind legs held me up and I floated effortlessly back and forth. Like a boat, lost out to sea.

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Catch The Wytches live at the following headline shows:

November
2 Oxford 02 Academy2
3 Portsmouth Wedgwood Rooms
4 Brighton Concorde 2
5 Bristol Thekla
7 Leeds Brudenell Social Club
8 Glasgow Oran Mor
9 Nottingham Rescue Rooms
10 Birmingham 02 Institute2
11 London Electric Ballroom

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