Witchy Pits
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About Witchy Pits
A casting call for late-night creeps, criminals, and creatures
Emerging from a storm drain near you to bum a smoke and tell you to fuck yourself, Witchy Pits is a gang of a degenerates hell-bent on fucking up your ears by playing what fans, haters, and the proprietor of a pretty mediocre Peruvian restaurant have agreed is “too loud”
Far beneath the gleaming skyscrapers and zipping e-scooters that dominate the City by the Bay, you’ll find the shadowy realms inhabited by the dislocated freaks, losers, and creeps who once defined it.
Much like the ninja turtles of legend, Witchy Pits are four assholes with fake names who literally live in the sewers with an old rat and subsist on greasy food and psilocybin.
Beneath the gleaming skyscrapers built by venture capital and surveillance tech are crumbling foundations cobbled together haphazardly from sunken ships, skeletons, and a whole fuckton of huge wet rats… also a pretty good rock band called Witchy Pits.
With Chuck Spliff and Moron double-teaming guitars and vocals, Robot slapping his thunderous bass and Iain the Red beating on the drums like he caught them stealing, Witchy Pits is a wretched Voltron of sweaty dudeflesh serving up nihilistic meat-and-potatoes rock exactly the way it was meant to be played: fast, loose, and loud as hell. No solos, no slow songs, just a blast of hot steamy riffs mangling your eardrums.
Emerging from a storm drain near you to bum a smoke and tell you to fuck yourself, Witchy Pits is a gang of a degenerates hell-bent on fucking up your ears by playing what fans, haters, and the proprietor of a pretty mediocre Peruvian restaurant have agreed is “too loud”
Far beneath the gleaming skyscrapers and zipping e-scooters that dominate the City by the Bay, you’ll find the shadowy realms inhabited by the dislocated freaks, losers, and creeps who once defined it.
Much like the ninja turtles of legend, Witchy Pits are four assholes with fake names who literally live in the sewers with an old rat and subsist on greasy food and psilocybin.
Beneath the gleaming skyscrapers built by venture capital and surveillance tech are crumbling foundations cobbled together haphazardly from sunken ships, skeletons, and a whole fuckton of huge wet rats… also a pretty good rock band called Witchy Pits.
With Chuck Spliff and Moron double-teaming guitars and vocals, Robot slapping his thunderous bass and Iain the Red beating on the drums like he caught them stealing, Witchy Pits is a wretched Voltron of sweaty dudeflesh serving up nihilistic meat-and-potatoes rock exactly the way it was meant to be played: fast, loose, and loud as hell. No solos, no slow songs, just a blast of hot steamy riffs mangling your eardrums.
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Genres:
Punk, Noise-rock, Psychedelic Punk
Hometown:
Oakland, California
No upcoming shows
Send a request to Witchy Pits to play in your city
Request a Show
About Witchy Pits
A casting call for late-night creeps, criminals, and creatures
Emerging from a storm drain near you to bum a smoke and tell you to fuck yourself, Witchy Pits is a gang of a degenerates hell-bent on fucking up your ears by playing what fans, haters, and the proprietor of a pretty mediocre Peruvian restaurant have agreed is “too loud”
Far beneath the gleaming skyscrapers and zipping e-scooters that dominate the City by the Bay, you’ll find the shadowy realms inhabited by the dislocated freaks, losers, and creeps who once defined it.
Much like the ninja turtles of legend, Witchy Pits are four assholes with fake names who literally live in the sewers with an old rat and subsist on greasy food and psilocybin.
Beneath the gleaming skyscrapers built by venture capital and surveillance tech are crumbling foundations cobbled together haphazardly from sunken ships, skeletons, and a whole fuckton of huge wet rats… also a pretty good rock band called Witchy Pits.
With Chuck Spliff and Moron double-teaming guitars and vocals, Robot slapping his thunderous bass and Iain the Red beating on the drums like he caught them stealing, Witchy Pits is a wretched Voltron of sweaty dudeflesh serving up nihilistic meat-and-potatoes rock exactly the way it was meant to be played: fast, loose, and loud as hell. No solos, no slow songs, just a blast of hot steamy riffs mangling your eardrums.
Emerging from a storm drain near you to bum a smoke and tell you to fuck yourself, Witchy Pits is a gang of a degenerates hell-bent on fucking up your ears by playing what fans, haters, and the proprietor of a pretty mediocre Peruvian restaurant have agreed is “too loud”
Far beneath the gleaming skyscrapers and zipping e-scooters that dominate the City by the Bay, you’ll find the shadowy realms inhabited by the dislocated freaks, losers, and creeps who once defined it.
Much like the ninja turtles of legend, Witchy Pits are four assholes with fake names who literally live in the sewers with an old rat and subsist on greasy food and psilocybin.
Beneath the gleaming skyscrapers built by venture capital and surveillance tech are crumbling foundations cobbled together haphazardly from sunken ships, skeletons, and a whole fuckton of huge wet rats… also a pretty good rock band called Witchy Pits.
With Chuck Spliff and Moron double-teaming guitars and vocals, Robot slapping his thunderous bass and Iain the Red beating on the drums like he caught them stealing, Witchy Pits is a wretched Voltron of sweaty dudeflesh serving up nihilistic meat-and-potatoes rock exactly the way it was meant to be played: fast, loose, and loud as hell. No solos, no slow songs, just a blast of hot steamy riffs mangling your eardrums.
Read More
Genres:
Punk, Noise-rock, Psychedelic Punk
Hometown:
Oakland, California
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