I will start by predicting that in about one year from now Witchkraft will be known by legions of fans as simply 'The Kraft', but no 'cheese slices' here I'll have you know, only (adopts Tommy Vance voice) "solid slabs of the finest rock".
I arrived at the venue just in time for the bands second spot which was a veritable orgy of pub rock excess. The two front persons of the band are incredible, guitarist Mal could be perceived as a reincarnation of Deep Purple's notorious axeman Ritchie Blackmore except that the man in black hasn't popped his cloggs yet; whereas vocalist Brenda is probably a reincarnation of the ancient Celtic warrior queen of the Icenti tribe. She has a powerful voice which is tuneful and melodic. She also stalks the boards with supreme confidence and could be imagined inciting the native militia to crush the Roman hordes and drink the blood from their ripped-out hearts (? - ed). This crazy fantasy is, however, induced by the boundary shattering reality obliterating aspects of their all-out full-on rock performance.
They play, not only Blackmore stuff, but one thing that is uncanny, if not even weird is when they do a non 'Ritchie' number it actually sounds like Blackmore has joined another band for a few brief moments (I won't tell you the set list, it will be a surprise). Solid bassist Frank is the anchorman with drummer Chris displaying some nifty stunts and soloing technique, which at one point made me lose my place at the bar as the tail end of a short but power-packed solo reminded me of Cozy Powell's bombastic intro to mid seventies Rainbow classic 'Stargazer'. This would have been paradise in my paralytic state however I hooped and hollered, a la Homer Simpson, at the wrong time and made a complete prawn of myself in the process.
Not to worry though, rock classic followed rock classic until the end of the set (which must be seen). Mal takes no prisoners at this point and also does not vent his angst and frustration on cheapo Woolworth's copy Strats, yes the real thing gets a helluva hammering. By this time my Homer hoots have escalated to a fully blown 'wooarghh!' and I haven't shut up about this gig yet, so if you've got a pub - make sure you book 'The Kraft', it's time to rock!