Frigid riffs embedded into the barren hellscapes of Southern California. Take the crushing weight of the pacific ocean and the oppressive despair of an unrelenting sun, invigorate it with freezing veins of a northern winter, and fuel it with the manic energy of blistering asphalt, and you have Woods Witch. If you’re not weeping, screaming, punching, or running in a circle, then we don’t play it. ... more