Given lines to read that are not our own, half of them cut before opening night, most of us live Thoreau's lives of quiet desperation. Some of us try to raise our voices, only to be drowned out by witless drunken heckles from the crowd.
And some of us have amplifiers. Loud ones.
Some of us never quite recovered from that intoxicating rush we got the first time we heard Little Richard speaking in tongues, or Hendrix tearing into that infernal tritone, or The Clash demanding a riot of their own. Some of us find meagre relief in dank practice spaces and stale backrooms, moments of clarity amid the squeal of a too-loud half-stack, and the reverb-drip of a club PA.
Let's face the music and dance...
'...Vicious Cabaret have as much swagger and snarl as any rock band can possibly muster...' Sandman
'...Brooding rock bastards with deliciously filthy bass lines and plenty of attitude...' Groovestealer
'...Blatant in their thievery, creative in their use of the goods and genuinely vicious in the way that they slash it out...' Unpeeled
'...Short, sharp & slightly sinister tasting, Vicious Cabaret have the lyrical courage to match their musical conviction...' Trakmarx
