Like a recalled doll come back from the factory to haunt you, SLASH NEED transports us from a sweaty Rouyn Noranda basement and into some kinky warehouse in Berlin. Vocal powerhouse Dusty Lee is veiled behind a mesh screen held up by their dancers. Lee’s silhouette is equal parts menacing and enticing as they emit guttural growls and hair-raising high notes. They push against the screen, their body warping and contorting as Alex Low’s throat-rattling production crawls down our spines.
Fog fills the room, and we catch only glimpses of Lee as they scream out like some kind of wounded animal. Desperately chewing and spitting each word like an exhibitionist bloodletting ceremony. It’s a nightmare, an assault on our senses that pushes us to our knees and holds our throats open with latex fingers to see what we’re made of.
SLASH NEED is a sensation. Yearning, angry, yet sensitive at times, it’s not for the faint of heart. It’s catharsis, rage, and release.
