Merry Christmas! Young Bull is a gift from baby Jesus.

The holiday came early for anyone visiting the Replay on a cold December night when Young Bull tore into their obnoxiously loud set. This is the one of the only bands that could draw a a room full of anxious, bearded young men buzzing with thrashing anticipation in the middle of a week.

The beefcakes were loud and brutal. They delivered an auditory assailment on the ears that was also a rocker’s delight. Loud riffs, crashing drums, and a singer too big for the stage. He rarely stood on the slightly raised platform, and instead opted to hurriedly pace around the audience and scowl at them, point at them, and sometimes just glare at them (I want to fight you, Young Bull!).

You know it’s good when the baddest motherfuckers of them all, Gnarly Davidson, are headbanging along in unison. Young Bull finished the raid with a room full of thrashers moving about.

Here’s a sample of that Young Bull barrage: