Going to work on one of the last southbound Northern Line trains. Job starts at 00:30. A throng of young revelers enters at Hampstead. Dozens of them on a group outing. They spill and partially fill two carriages. I am surrounded. They are singing simple pop songs that everyone agrees to remember the melody to after the initiator takes an informal poll (bing! bang! walla walla bing bang!). Still feeling a bit lifted and not sure if this is the infectiously energetic entourage I want to engage myself in as I silently meditate, mentally prepare myself for physical labour and slide my phone (GBA emulator engaged) into my work pants pocket. You know what? I was young once. By a lot of measures I still am. Let them have their fun, and I will smile and nod along to the off key chorus and I won't even shy away from drunken good time eye contact. Life is too short to be a grumpy old man on the tube before 30.
The next station is Belsize Park. "There is no smoking allowed on the London Underground" is being repeated constantly. A faint waft of nicotine smoke drifts in from the boisterous carriage next door. Slowing now. Platform drifts rapidly into the periphery as limbs flail towards the ceiling next door. The doors between carriages ("emergency use only") spring open. "Somebody got nicked, yo!"
Everybody screaming. Sounds of bodies slamming against each other in a frantic mosh as people push to the tube doors waiting for them to open. Screaming. We're in the last two cars, towards the end of the track. No way to go except into the stabbing area or up the stairs past the too-slow lifts to the exit. Drunken brawl? Chinese-style knifing terror attack? Gang confrontation? Part of me is desperate to find out, to watch the deadly drama with my own eyes. The majority of me is swept up in the crowd. Surrounded by dozens of strangers, all screaming and running for the exit. Who could resist?
100+ steps, racing past other scared passengers. Waiting outside the station. Checking bus schedule. Is there a convenient bus to jump on or should I wait this out? Police, one van and two cars peel into the station. Confront the crowd immediately. People screaming on their phones, "we need an ambulance!" "My friend's lost tons of blood!" "Everybody needs to get out of here NOW!" Police sprinting after shady characters who realized this too late. A throng of drunk and potentially underage, potentially drug possessing potential stabbing suspects. At least four cops sprint after the group that attempts to escape the moment they pull up. Two were arrested so they got somebody.
Back in the station. Platform closed. Have to catch a northbound, switch at the next station, get back on track. Going past Belsize Park once again, this time the train won't stop. One victim sprawled on the bench, young dude, long hair, shirtless, oxygen mask on, paramedics and police surrounding, gently splattered in blood. No fatalities. Fifteen minutes late for work.
27 Oct 2014
1 Oct 2014
Sonance / Torpor / Of Spire & Throne / Terra
Live @ The Unicorn, London, UK
September 27, 2014
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Bleak metal tonight. Thin crowd early on. DSBM? Post-hardcore? There was a time when I might claim to be able to draw a line here between the two. Tonight I am not sure what, which side of that dichotomy I am to expect. We begin with melody, gentle blast beats, tremolo picking, almost soaring, but unmistakably bleak and depressive. Vocals on the post-hardcore side, which is really the only safe characteristic to orientate oneself about. Fashion is increasingly meaningless in these scenes, especially in a cutting edge fashion epicentre like London. Here it just doesn't matter - you can dress like whatever flamboyant caricature or zoo creature you like, and unless you start screaming or physically accosting people, no one will pay you any mind. Strongbow, Okocim and MJ on the menu tonight. Feedback. Not as blatantly suicidal as some genre mainstays over on the black side, like Xasthur and Leviathan. Nobody is screaming in pain as if locked in the agonizing throes of suicide in progress. Terra could approach hardcore - the drumming is active and varied enough, the vocals fit, but the guitarist's rhythm hand never stops moving. Blasting semi-darkness, rather than blackness. Depression and contemplation, no hint of revenge or masochism or evil for its own sake. DSBM in all its melancholy tends to show traces of the horrid path taken to reach this place, and so this band cannot bear that label. They show no sign of evil, only a devastated realism crafted during a strictly temporal existence. A populous plane where ample ammunition can be found to destroy a soul, riddle it with the searing lead bullets of daily life in the western world.
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Guitarist pulled back from his plodding, relentless assault to apply a delicate touch, gently striking the six strings at the fifth fret, evoking every note of the open position chord. This moment of reprise does not represent Of Spire & Throne best - for most of the duration, a pummeling downpour of the lowest order of power chords. Single notes, groped at in dissonance. Gospel Of The Future comes to mind as an exemplar of countless bands employing the same approach. Sleep by way of Incantation, perhaps. The speed never quite gets past mid-gallop and the dreamer is never awoken. So it pummels and plods in ten minute segments. The thin crowd grows over the last hour, and most are captivated midway through the set. The bassist wears Hawkwind.
The evening's selection of house music was largely indecipherable. Unshazaamable, even. From bleak DSBM to honest 50's style rock. Moody all around. Probably no major chords all night.
Did I mention the bells of Of Spire & Throne? Funeral bells, tolling for thee and we. To my recollection only seized upon in a single (albeit ten minute) song. Aesthetically perfect. Why not incorporate them more readily? It's a distinctive sound but not one so far removed from the top of the high hat that it distracts from the combined (doom) metal cacophony.
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The cleanest vocals or monotonous, emphatic sighs of disaffected emotion. For the most part, growls. Noisy in note selection but clarity in aura. Chugging. 22:05 and the crowd thickens. Spike in attendance for gender disparity. Coincidence? If not, more bands and women should be taking advantage. Nothing like Kylesa, even Swallow The Sun. Bleak, relentlessly bleak. Torpor breath moaning dissatisfaction. Stella working its way into the bloodstream. Applause and gratitude, well deserved. There will be a fourth artist, it seems.
Another band coming momentarily, surely. Already wondering if I've written anything on the band previous. Turns out I have. Carry on stringing the strongbow. Shazaam continues to be useless. Fortunately my brain matter sniffs a familiar signal and informs me: "In a white room, with black curtains..." directly precedes the headlining band, which is...
Sonance. I could live in London forever and no one would ever notice me. Unicorn bustling at this point. Not packed, but a healthy Saturday night crowd. Doom, death, black, or will the headliner hit the post? Vikings everywhere, can't wait for that Archagathus show. Something melodic has been flirted with but not fulfilled. Sweating profusely, t-shirt and jeans is overdressed in this thus far balmy English winter. Chips or meat or both to follow, surely. Not pizza, too pricey this time of night. This act lies definitively on the (post) hardcore side. Singer wears Neurosis. Guitarists decked in grey and plaid from my left to right respectively. Bleak. A bit less fresh than earlier acts, now shades of Swallow The Sun, playing at a bigger atmospheric presence than they project. Heavy as ass, but at this point the evening climaxes predictably: have the opening acts explore the extremities of your stylistic limbs and tentacles, and you may be left wanting in the testicles. That sort of cool space metalcore comes to mind. They do exude something extra-planetary, shads of space metal. The most consciously terrestrial of tonight's offerings. Off we go before the tube ceases business and the chip shops turn off the lights.
30 Aug 2014
Anoxide / Wretched Soul / Black Skies Burn / Overthrow / Annunciation
Live @ The Garage (Upstairs), London, UK
August 27, 2014
Annunciation. Old school death metal. Quite possibly the best band in England. First gig with secondary guitarist Sonny (Secreum).
Overthrow, playing on the third anniversary of their first gig. Tight, deathy thrash, tastefully melodic. A professional performance with reserved precision.
My second time seeing Black Skies Burn. Deathy grind from some "chavvy shithole" north of London. Twenty second songs about Chris Benoit and what have you. Pretty much stole the show for the entire evening. Stoic stage presence with facial expressions drawn from the sort of statues that adorn Aztec sacrificial altars. There's something very wrong about an Englishman wearing a cowboy hat. Bargain of the night with a hard copy CD for £5 (listen here).
Wretched Soul. An example of an all-to-rare heavy metal subtype - heavily anti-Christian with clean vocals. And lots of unclean vocals too. Tonight was a well put together show, as far as showcasing the varieties of death metal. Old school to slam to thrash to grind to good ol' heavy fucking metal. Mercyful Fate 5.0, or whatever generation we're on now. Wretched Soul look and sound like something out of the mid to late 80's, and they do what they do well.
Anoxide are slamming brutal death, bordering on deathcore at moments. Definitely who the fans came to see tonight, this was their house. Some video here. Retained most of the crowd to the end for some onstage moshing, and the dancing didn't stop in the pit.
15 Aug 2014
Obscene Extreme 2014: Day 5
Live @ Battlefield, Trutnov, Czech Republic
Part five of a planned five-part photo-essay, covering five days at
OEF Europe 2014. Events were recorded in the moment (gonzo-lite).
Transcribed directly from my notes, with after-the-fact (mainly day 5)
recollections in italics. Some days were more comprehensive and
professionally journalistic than others...
They don't really encourage you to stay for the last day. Toilets remain untouched since Saturday morning, no TP and mountains of shit. The standing 4-way urinals are worse for my money - located more often in direct sunlight, rocking back and forth on uneven ground, you can see the rolling waves of piss beneath you, smell the ocean of the combined piss of thousands of drunk men. Shit seems to mellow, the vast combinations of smells cancelling each other out (to an extent, it still stinks) but piss accumulates, it boils in the sun, fermenting, resulting in toxic islands best avoided for a quick step into the treeline.
The beer is still flowing, but down to a trickle. I wonder whether they've tapped the last keg, or whether service will rebound to meet the demands of tonight's after party. One food stand still open, hard liquor still available. The cleaners are at work in the auditorium, combing through grass and gravel for every scrap of evidence. Cell phone charging still available, thankfully, and quite reasonably. Stranding foreigners without a phone charge would be an inhospitable challenge this far away from Prague. Not that the way back is so difficult.
It's nine something in the AM Sunday, and I need another beer. Gotta use up these drink tickets as they're no good next year. The cup on the other hand...
Down to the dark beer. It's a bad scene in the beer tent, this could be my last. Stragglers still drinking, singing, smoking, falling off chairs (benches) around me.
95% of the crowd is gone Sunday morning. Cell phone charging disappeared shortly after I recorded my final notes. Back to Prague without witnessing the after show. Next year? I can only hope to return. If not, the road doesn't end here. It splits off in a hundred directions to a hundred different shows, a continent and a planet of extreme to explore. The summit disbands, and the attendees wander off to the four corners of the globe. May the Obscene reign for another thousand years.
July 20, 2014
They don't really encourage you to stay for the last day. Toilets remain untouched since Saturday morning, no TP and mountains of shit. The standing 4-way urinals are worse for my money - located more often in direct sunlight, rocking back and forth on uneven ground, you can see the rolling waves of piss beneath you, smell the ocean of the combined piss of thousands of drunk men. Shit seems to mellow, the vast combinations of smells cancelling each other out (to an extent, it still stinks) but piss accumulates, it boils in the sun, fermenting, resulting in toxic islands best avoided for a quick step into the treeline.
The beer is still flowing, but down to a trickle. I wonder whether they've tapped the last keg, or whether service will rebound to meet the demands of tonight's after party. One food stand still open, hard liquor still available. The cleaners are at work in the auditorium, combing through grass and gravel for every scrap of evidence. Cell phone charging still available, thankfully, and quite reasonably. Stranding foreigners without a phone charge would be an inhospitable challenge this far away from Prague. Not that the way back is so difficult.
It's nine something in the AM Sunday, and I need another beer. Gotta use up these drink tickets as they're no good next year. The cup on the other hand...
Down to the dark beer. It's a bad scene in the beer tent, this could be my last. Stragglers still drinking, singing, smoking, falling off chairs (benches) around me.
95% of the crowd is gone Sunday morning. Cell phone charging disappeared shortly after I recorded my final notes. Back to Prague without witnessing the after show. Next year? I can only hope to return. If not, the road doesn't end here. It splits off in a hundred directions to a hundred different shows, a continent and a planet of extreme to explore. The summit disbands, and the attendees wander off to the four corners of the globe. May the Obscene reign for another thousand years.
Goodbye, Trutnov
14 Aug 2014
Obscene Extreme 2014: Day 4
Live @ Battlefield, Trutnov, Czech Republic
Part four of a planned five-part photo-essay, covering five days at
OEF Europe 2014. Events were recorded in the moment (gonzo-lite).
Transcribed directly from my notes, with after-the-fact (mainly day 5)
recollections in italics. Some days were more comprehensive and
professionally journalistic than others...
Nuclear, what the fuck, where did this come from. Fast crust/thrash/whatever with Toxic Holocaust catchiness, fantastic set. I had no idea about this band, and their name doesn't exactly stand out in the memory banks. Further research is required, my biggest pleasant surprise of the weekend along with Deaf Kids.
Probably we are in the midst of a goregrind arms race. Machetazo have been a last minute scratch. Gutalax with "special guests" will fill their slot, as it were. Kadaverficker surely did not prepare to be followed by that act and the spontaneous party disaster that erupts with them. So they seek to preempt that with an almost bottomless bag of tricks. How did GWAR get by for decades just spraying people with goo and a little meat? First came the masks, dozens distributed to set the scene in the pit. Then a zombie (or was it a victim of medical misadventure?) with band-brand beer. Are those glass bottles? Bold choice for history's most boisterous moshpit. We already saw one wall of death, so this time (with a smaller afternoon crowd) we say the "wall of penetration" initiated. Band-supplied toilet brushes to one side, and vibrators on the other. Two of the more difficult armies to organize, but it worked. I think they actually spent more time on banter and props than they did playing songs. Ultimo Mondo Cannibale need to step up their game. Mexican wrestling masks? What is this, the 80s? Ren and Stimpy replace Robot Chicken, a welcome change and no subtitles required.
Turbokrieg - "No 'schnell', we're going slower. If I hear one more German word from anybody out there I swear to god we're... we're leaving the stage." Pretty much what you would expect from a band touring with The Kill, but more solos. "The hamburgers here in Czech Republic suck!" "Those Polish pizzas suck too! That ketchup shit?" Ah, the langoše. I agree completely. I have bought two this year and more the year previous. I should know better. They look amazing, smell fantastic and for the first couple bites they seem great. But then you get towards the centre, and its nothing but ketchup. Why ketchup? Why? Who decided that pizza wasn't working and developed this strange evolutionary aberration as a replacement? Never again.
I'm sat on the grass in the shade near the back and this one dude is really into it just in front of me. Moshing, if you will, by himslef, on the grass, on his ass, rolling and thrashing around so hard that he sprayed his half full cup of beer all around. Quite a post-modern approach to banter from Turbokreig. Started off sarcastically grumpy, aforementioned food critique, bemoaning the difficulties of being brutal for extended periods of time, increasingly antagonistic. At one point literally saying "blah blah blah blah..." "See, they make me talk because we only have like 15 minutes of music."
Vallenfyre seemed like they felt that they were at the wrong festival. They had to follow the last minute surprise Gutalax set, a predicament few bands could capitalize on at this festival, and mid-paced modern death is probably the toughest to pull off in this particular slot. Vocalist Gregor Mackintosh (by way of Paradise Lost) in a bold move referred to Gutalax as "Slipknot-type stuff", something you can get away with as an English band performing to only a handful of native speakers. The crowd either missed the jab, didn't care, or else the goregrind contingent was taking a break before Cripple Bastards.
I think Prophecy also felt the sting as the same crowd rested before Gutalax, and the Texas band resorted to busting out a Cannibal Corspe cover mid-set ("Stripped, Raped and Strangled"). "They say American bands talk to much", and I'm inclined to agree in this case, there's only som many times you need to thank the fans and proclaim your pannational love for death metal.
I have heard some complaints about death metal in general at Obscene Extreme. I don't think any of the headliners I have seen (Cryptopsy, Immolation, Morgoth, Possessed) are an issue, but with so many acts out there I wonder at some of the afternoon selections. This crowd could handle a little more of the traditional stuff, a little more melody from the bands on the rise that should be keeping us occupied while the sun is high.
Cripple Bastards were outrageous, close behind Vitamin X for energy. Strange they didn't try to squeeze them in on Italian Hardcore Night, but I guess they were too squarely grind for the organizers' purist sensibilities. Slept on these guys for far too long, one of those bands you know you will like and will kick your ass live but you just haven't gotten around to it. Shit, if I was up on all the 60+ bands that play OEF I wouldn't have time for work or sex or masturbation, unless I kept the tunes pumping through each of these activities, which isn't out of the question. I guess I have no excuse.
Immolation, godly as expected. Amazing energy, especially from (lead guitarist). Outrageously consistent career with way too many albums to represent in a 50 minute set. And tbey have the balls to close with a new song. Great to see an old school band still on top of their game, and not just on some reunion or anniversary tour playing the hits.
Speaking of which, Morgoth were no slouches. I only have Cursed on cassette and remember it being a bit keyboard-heavy for OEF but they sure proved my recollections wrong. They share the blame for any death metal overdoses suffered by bunks and grind freaks this evening, no doubt.
Doom were all business, "Fuck pornogrind" was overheard from Denis Boardman before a song about a woman's right to choose. As if Pornogrind wasn't all about abortions? The on-paper headliner burned through songs rapidly, made it clear early on that they would be closing with "Police Bastard", and delivered. The lights on stage went out for the closing tune, not sure if by design. Mosh in the darkness. They got in and got out, I don't think they even filled in all the time for their slot. They need to be experienced at a smaller venue next time, like so many others at OEF.
Got kicked in the face with a beachball at point blank range before Corrupt Moral Altar, barely spilled a drop of beer. It was just a beach ball, not like I'm tough or anything. The culprit turned out to be a Swiss man (yes, I know what country Bern is in, thank you) who had booked CMA on an upcoming tour date back home. "Don't tell anyone, but if they suck tonight I will cancel them." They didn't suck. Frontman Chris Reese drank the most beer out of anyone on stage all weekend, but we are pushing 2am at this point.
July 19, 2014
Nuclear, what the fuck, where did this come from. Fast crust/thrash/whatever with Toxic Holocaust catchiness, fantastic set. I had no idea about this band, and their name doesn't exactly stand out in the memory banks. Further research is required, my biggest pleasant surprise of the weekend along with Deaf Kids.
Probably we are in the midst of a goregrind arms race. Machetazo have been a last minute scratch. Gutalax with "special guests" will fill their slot, as it were. Kadaverficker surely did not prepare to be followed by that act and the spontaneous party disaster that erupts with them. So they seek to preempt that with an almost bottomless bag of tricks. How did GWAR get by for decades just spraying people with goo and a little meat? First came the masks, dozens distributed to set the scene in the pit. Then a zombie (or was it a victim of medical misadventure?) with band-brand beer. Are those glass bottles? Bold choice for history's most boisterous moshpit. We already saw one wall of death, so this time (with a smaller afternoon crowd) we say the "wall of penetration" initiated. Band-supplied toilet brushes to one side, and vibrators on the other. Two of the more difficult armies to organize, but it worked. I think they actually spent more time on banter and props than they did playing songs. Ultimo Mondo Cannibale need to step up their game. Mexican wrestling masks? What is this, the 80s? Ren and Stimpy replace Robot Chicken, a welcome change and no subtitles required.
Turbokrieg - "No 'schnell', we're going slower. If I hear one more German word from anybody out there I swear to god we're... we're leaving the stage." Pretty much what you would expect from a band touring with The Kill, but more solos. "The hamburgers here in Czech Republic suck!" "Those Polish pizzas suck too! That ketchup shit?" Ah, the langoše. I agree completely. I have bought two this year and more the year previous. I should know better. They look amazing, smell fantastic and for the first couple bites they seem great. But then you get towards the centre, and its nothing but ketchup. Why ketchup? Why? Who decided that pizza wasn't working and developed this strange evolutionary aberration as a replacement? Never again.
I'm sat on the grass in the shade near the back and this one dude is really into it just in front of me. Moshing, if you will, by himslef, on the grass, on his ass, rolling and thrashing around so hard that he sprayed his half full cup of beer all around. Quite a post-modern approach to banter from Turbokreig. Started off sarcastically grumpy, aforementioned food critique, bemoaning the difficulties of being brutal for extended periods of time, increasingly antagonistic. At one point literally saying "blah blah blah blah..." "See, they make me talk because we only have like 15 minutes of music."
Vallenfyre seemed like they felt that they were at the wrong festival. They had to follow the last minute surprise Gutalax set, a predicament few bands could capitalize on at this festival, and mid-paced modern death is probably the toughest to pull off in this particular slot. Vocalist Gregor Mackintosh (by way of Paradise Lost) in a bold move referred to Gutalax as "Slipknot-type stuff", something you can get away with as an English band performing to only a handful of native speakers. The crowd either missed the jab, didn't care, or else the goregrind contingent was taking a break before Cripple Bastards.
I think Prophecy also felt the sting as the same crowd rested before Gutalax, and the Texas band resorted to busting out a Cannibal Corspe cover mid-set ("Stripped, Raped and Strangled"). "They say American bands talk to much", and I'm inclined to agree in this case, there's only som many times you need to thank the fans and proclaim your pannational love for death metal.
I have heard some complaints about death metal in general at Obscene Extreme. I don't think any of the headliners I have seen (Cryptopsy, Immolation, Morgoth, Possessed) are an issue, but with so many acts out there I wonder at some of the afternoon selections. This crowd could handle a little more of the traditional stuff, a little more melody from the bands on the rise that should be keeping us occupied while the sun is high.
Cripple Bastards were outrageous, close behind Vitamin X for energy. Strange they didn't try to squeeze them in on Italian Hardcore Night, but I guess they were too squarely grind for the organizers' purist sensibilities. Slept on these guys for far too long, one of those bands you know you will like and will kick your ass live but you just haven't gotten around to it. Shit, if I was up on all the 60+ bands that play OEF I wouldn't have time for work or sex or masturbation, unless I kept the tunes pumping through each of these activities, which isn't out of the question. I guess I have no excuse.
Immolation, godly as expected. Amazing energy, especially from (lead guitarist). Outrageously consistent career with way too many albums to represent in a 50 minute set. And tbey have the balls to close with a new song. Great to see an old school band still on top of their game, and not just on some reunion or anniversary tour playing the hits.
Doom were all business, "Fuck pornogrind" was overheard from Denis Boardman before a song about a woman's right to choose. As if Pornogrind wasn't all about abortions? The on-paper headliner burned through songs rapidly, made it clear early on that they would be closing with "Police Bastard", and delivered. The lights on stage went out for the closing tune, not sure if by design. Mosh in the darkness. They got in and got out, I don't think they even filled in all the time for their slot. They need to be experienced at a smaller venue next time, like so many others at OEF.
Got kicked in the face with a beachball at point blank range before Corrupt Moral Altar, barely spilled a drop of beer. It was just a beach ball, not like I'm tough or anything. The culprit turned out to be a Swiss man (yes, I know what country Bern is in, thank you) who had booked CMA on an upcoming tour date back home. "Don't tell anyone, but if they suck tonight I will cancel them." They didn't suck. Frontman Chris Reese drank the most beer out of anyone on stage all weekend, but we are pushing 2am at this point.
I tapped out a few songs into Killchain. All grinded out...
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