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Fuck the Facts 

With Xrin Arms, Insurrect, and Concordia Discors. Saturday, April 7, at the Beachland Tavern.

Fuck the Facts' self-described "bastardized grindcore" evokes certain images of its creators: giant demons using their sinewy arms' quick-twitch muscles to produce supra-human riffs and blast beats. The group's singer, Mel Mongeon, blends feral gurgles and war-bird shrieks in a manner that's not only androgynous, but also species-indeterminate.

"I remember a promoter who was expecting the whole band to be much taller," says Mongeon, who drastically flouts expectations as a five-foot three-inch female whose weight falls short of three digits. "He seemed really disappointed."

Such disillusionment vanishes, however, when the group starts generating its unfathomable velocity and ungodly vocals. "I read a review that said I was screaming like I was ready to do permanent damage to my vocal cords," says Mongeon. "For some reason, that sounded really good to me."

To prevent that write-up from turning prophetic, she drinks green or herbal tea before every concert and practice. She also stopped smoking the day she became a screamer (back in 1999), while abstaining from alcohol on the road. Such careful maintenance ensures Mongeon's voice can race alongside Fuck the Facts' thrash-punk warfare.

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