The Pervs are a suffocating band. There is a claustrophobic atmosphere around their music. An autoerotic asphyxiating attack on the senses. You are verbally assaulted in a cubicle of a run down bar’s bathroom. Red indicator on the lock, occupied by all means. An oddly intimate encounter as you recall it.
Like a tandoor oven, “Counting Sheep” is a sweltering, almost humid anthem of counter counter culture (in an almost justified insult towards an unassuming office worker). Just like any other Pervs song, it’s another display of their ability to meld memorable hooks with catchy riffs. An almost musical bear trap. Unaware that you are now a victim of the “moment”.
With the “moment” you can only do so much as an innocent bystander. You can only scream so much, only dance and chant for so long. It’s not an exhaustion of a party, we are not so privileged as to have that. It is the inelastic release of frustration. Stretched and never returning to form (or at least for as long as the night dictates). You are a casualty. Collateral damage to tonight’s performance.They’re nobody’s band and we are not their audience. There is only being. Only the “now”.
We are here
and right there, a finger point away,
are The Pervs