KARBUNCLE PRESS: So, how did your gig go last night?
CHARLIE TWITCH: Um... well, it went as we planned it to...
SHEA BISHOP DUFFY: Yeah, I'd say it went pretty smooth. We don't like making a big impression you know, especially when there's that many other people performing in one night.
KP: I have to say, after all the hype I'd been reading about you guys, it almost felt like something went wrong...
CT: We couldn't actually hear anything on stage...
KP: A lot of people think that you guys sounded a lot better when you had a drummer backing you. Why did you replace him with a drum machine?
SBD: Well, if you'd seen any of our precedent shows it was quite obvious that Jesse was taking up a lot of stage.
CT: Yeah, his drum kit was always in the way. It was also really kind of, against the bands aesthetic to have all those drums on stage, you know? So now we've got everything programmed into our drum machine that we put on a little table off to the side.
KP: There are a lot of lyrics against women in your music, do you guys have anything against women?
CT: What do you think?
SBD: Don't look at me, he writes the lyrics.
[at this point Shea starts noodling around on his bass]
CT: Shit, that's a sweet ass bass riff, man.
KP: Well, that's all I've got. Do you guys have any shows planned in the coming months?
CT: ...
PTENCH played last night at Main Hall for STAC Montreal.
"It's suffice to say that rock music is now officially dead, and the perpetrators are the insufferable cacaphonic wretchs that make up PTENCH. Never before have I heard such drivel escape the mouth of a fellow human being, and it was not the choice of words that I took offence to but the sheer banality and disregard for rhyme and reason. Mr. Charlie Twitch is under the impression that any average individual can stand in front of what I would nearly classify as aural consumers and expect them to tolerate his tired and redundant monologues as he attempts to acheive what I'm sure he would call poetry. If this isn't bad enough, his compatriot, Shea Bishop Duffy cannot even stand to play his electric bass guitar. What kind of rock and roll music has band members sitting on their asses? Should I dare mention that their drummer, Jesse Allaire can barely keep his drum kit together? Twice songs were interrupted as he desperately attempted to re-fasten various drum components that had fallen off as he thumped away like some physically challenged lunatic.
I often hear stories of how people returned to see the Ramones during their early performances because they could not believe how terrible they where. Well, belive me, PTENCH is the epitome of the decline in rock music. Do yourself a favor and avoid this band and the STENCH they represent."
-Tobias McDevitt, Indie Music Canda
"After the fifth acoustic act that night finished their set and cleared the stage it was quite clear that nothing short of a fucking musical breakthrough was going to keep this crowd from bludgeoning every guitar nuzzling patron to death. Between the less than impressive art auction, complacent MC's and melon colie folk mumblings, hope was but a distant ember in everyone's eyes. It was PTENCH that took the stage next, smiles slowly creeping across our faces as the familiar sound of electric guitars hummed into the nearly empty bar. These guys looked fresh and nervous but holy fuck could they rock out!
There wasn't a dry seat in the house as they tore through classic rock ballads such as Cookie, Palms and Adelaide, rendering the songs nearly incoherent yet with a charm only found in bands such as these. By the end of the set mens and womens undergarments adorned the stage and with that the band dissapeared. I've never seen anything like it but I assure you; if PTENCH is ever playing in your neck of the woods, don't dawdle, get your ass down there to see some real fucking rock and roll!"
- Jasmine Rockwell, The Littleton Daily
