NEWS: Rotgut wake from the grave without eyes!

How well do you know your horror classics? Seattle black n’ thrash n’ roll trio Rotgut have shared a music video for “Return of the Dead Without Eyes” that features a collection of clips from occult horror classics from which you can play a game of who’s who. It’s the first to surface from the bands debut EP “24oz Cantrip” which will land on 20th June with the claim that five tracks of booze-soaked thrash fury infused with the unholy union of punk attitude and blackened aggression await.

The band comments, “A blackened thrash tale of betrayal, dark rites, and tomb-born horror, inspired by Amando de Ossorio’s ‘Tombs of the Blind Dead.’ The Outlander marks a doomed journal entry written moments before annihilation.”

This is the story of the soon-to-be infamous 24 oz Cantrip:

“Born fully formed, screaming, and covered in goo out of the dumpster behind DaVinci’s pizza on Merrick Road, a horned figure scrambled blindly through piles of empty paint cans, ceramic vases, and angry cats in order to move undetected. He found refuge in a musty old cellar. After pulling his foot loose from the bucket he had stepped in, he closed the heavy steel doors behind him.

Wiping the thick blanket of dust off a 30-rack of Genesee Specialty Cream Ale, he schemed. He was cursed with the knowledge of an incantation: a spell that would bring Nyarlathotep, the Crawling Chaos, into this world. He wrestled with the thought while crushing and tossing another empty can. The ritual required great rigor and perfect focus, but he was exacting.

He chanted. He chanted and chanted. The ceiling groaned and cracked. Polyvinyl dust plumed and swirled before vanishing into imperceptible motes. He drew sorcerous glyphs in the air with two fingers outstretched. The walls trembled with a sickening low rumble. Bracing his hands firm against his ersatz altar — a Playskool Mighty My Size Table and Chair Set — he ignored the throbbing in his head and steadied himself.

A spiraling portal ripped into reality. Out spilled two bumbling homunculi, fully formed, screaming, and covered in goo. This wasn’t right! The pair stumbled and scratched their way through the cellar, bleating, squawking, and tearing through nearby cases of Natty Daddy like vultures to carrion. He pondered for what seemed like hours over the pyramid of discarded beer cans and the now-empty bottle of Old Grand Dad he had chanced upon halfway through. What could have gone wrong?

The cellar burst open. Darkening the door was a group of hulking, hazmat-suited figures. At once, the three slickened homunculi grappled one another in a long and futile struggle to get on their feet. They shouted in a panic if they were “being detained” until they were eventually tased into unconsciousness.

This was ROTGUT’s ill-fated 24 oz CANTRIP”