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Interpret

Trouble

Über Trouble

Trouble's sound comes out of the same pit of lost souls as the dirge-like orchestras of Black Sabbath and Saint Vitus. Their songs emanate like thick clouds of black smoke, and their guitars smolder with slow repetitions of anthemic riffs that build without release. Rhythms move like a funeral march that never finds the cemetery, wandering with a dark, somber attitude before switching to the galloping pace of a horse-drawn carriage trying to outrun the night. Words that divide the planes of heaven and hell are shouted with mortal desperation.

356x237

Trouble

Trouble's sound comes out of the same pit of lost souls as the dirge-like orchestras of Black Sabbath and Saint Vitus. Their songs emanate like thick clouds of black smoke, and their guitars smolder with slow repetitions of anthemic riffs that build without release. Rhythms move like a funeral march that never finds the cemetery, wandering with a dark, somber attitude before switching to the galloping pace of a horse-drawn carriage trying to outrun the night. Words that divide the planes of heaven and hell are shouted with mortal desperation.

Über Trouble

Trouble's sound comes out of the same pit of lost souls as the dirge-like orchestras of Black Sabbath and Saint Vitus. Their songs emanate like thick clouds of black smoke, and their guitars smolder with slow repetitions of anthemic riffs that build without release. Rhythms move like a funeral march that never finds the cemetery, wandering with a dark, somber attitude before switching to the galloping pace of a horse-drawn carriage trying to outrun the night. Words that divide the planes of heaven and hell are shouted with mortal desperation.

Über Trouble

Trouble's sound comes out of the same pit of lost souls as the dirge-like orchestras of Black Sabbath and Saint Vitus. Their songs emanate like thick clouds of black smoke, and their guitars smolder with slow repetitions of anthemic riffs that build without release. Rhythms move like a funeral march that never finds the cemetery, wandering with a dark, somber attitude before switching to the galloping pace of a horse-drawn carriage trying to outrun the night. Words that divide the planes of heaven and hell are shouted with mortal desperation.

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