Wilson is not a fucking "internet band". They’re five dudes in a van with beards and big dicks- working harder than your parents. But instead of giving their all as stockbrokers or auto-mechanics or assistant branch managers their job is to destroy your party. Forget debates about the music industry, about download analytics, mp3 singles, and the “charts”. Screw genres. All that has nothing to do with music. But when that Wilson van cruises into your town that shit is REAL. Real MUSIC. Real LIFE. Real LOUD. Real SWEATY. And real fucking FUN.

You know who is FUN? Matt Puhy defines fun. What’s more fun than a naught flirty blonde with washboard abs that knows how to handle his “stixxx”? That bangs it out harder every night than you did the first time you took E.

What about SWEATY? Yeah that’s right- Jason Spencer gets sweaty. That’s what happens when you treat a fret-board likes it’s a ninja war, and you relentlessly SHRED EVERYTHING IN YOUR PATH FOR AN HOUR. When the sweat drips all the way from his head down his well-muscled body down to his huge heavy balls- he’s just begun. Probably still warming up.

LOUD. Kyle Landry defies loud. His ice blue eyes are silent. He doesn’t small talk or “chit chat”. But when he could only get his amp to go to “11” he threw it in the fucking garbage. Then he built a new one out of raw iron, testosterone and grizzly bear semen. And all the unsaid things he hides behind those quiet blue eyes come out of that amp louder than Skrillex’s cries for help if his DJ hand got caught in a blender.

As for real MUSIC, James Lascu’s DNA coils into the shape of a bass clef. Don’t believe me? Ask a scientist, douche-bag or just get the wax out of your ears. Subwoofers tremble when he plugs in. Then he makes them sing like Maria Callas. #S&M Sadism and melody.

Real LIFE. Isn’t there a voice inside your head? That screams “BULLSHIT” all the time? That wants to tell the world how you feel? That voice is the CHAD NICEFIELD in you. The real life drilling its way to the surface. Telling the truths that you were afraid to. The moaning screams that you thought were all your own. Real words. Real thoughts. Real life. That’s all Chad knows. And he can see that all in you.

And that’s it. That’s Wilson. A band that has toured relentlessly since since 2010, through big cities and little podunks. A band that records its albums the ol’ fashioned way: with instruments. And analog gear. Fifth and sixth and twentieth takes. A band that brings that last Friday night on Earth mentality to the stage every night. They’ll never quit on you. And that’s real talk. That’s #FUCKERY. And that’s WILSON.

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