2016 May Brawl - The Portland - 11/06/2016

Cambridge University has a grand tradition for traditions, and one of them is the Rock Soc's annual live show, being held at the same time as the colleges May Balls (which are mostly run in June, because Cambridge University does that kind of thing a lot). After being absent from them since back when they were held at the Man In The Moon, mostly due to them turning into black/death metal overkill and me then not keeping track of them, I decided to give this years event a go. Besides, how can you go wrong when it's £6 to get in?




WTVR
The event started quietly, with maybe 20 people milling around in all. Then a guy in leopard-print underpants walked onstage from nowhere, put a gas mask on and started making what can best be described as "one hell of an unholy racket", before then upping the ante by picking up an accordion. Then two other members of the audience walked up, jumped upon guitar and drums, and joined in with trying to redline the soundboard with what I can't really describe as songs or tunes because it was more of a wall of sound experience than anything else. Once it became clear that they were actually a cohesive band, I got around to trying to get their music, and failed in a quite pleasant way. It wasn't that it was especially cleaver or hyper-complex, it was closer to Muse on mcat than mathrock, it's just that it was filled with overdrive, feedback, and lyrics that were audible and poetic but basically a fever dream. I liked the experience, and when they focused on hammering out the tunes it managed to stay just far enough away from hipsterism to not irritate me. If pushed to pigeonhole it, I would say "avant garde alternative stoner", but given how wide-eyed the semi-naked vocalist was, a piss test would be required to prove the last bit.

Malignant Germ Infestation

Next up was a werewolf in a boiler suit on the mic accompanied by a pig scientist on guitar, with a stage setup of a sacrificial satanic alter, bathed in blood, and assorted gender blowup sex dolls with sausages tied to them. The music was very heavy techno-grindcore, with 90's game/tv/porn clips thrown in between rounds, and the show consisted of the singer thrashing on the stage, at the front of the stage, and around the audience, like.... well, like a werewolf in a grindcore band. From time to time they would molest and / or torture the sex-dolls, suspending a number from meathooks on the stage, and given the titles of songs there was a strong over-the-top porno-gore thing going on but someone would have to workout what the lyrics were to give a call on that. It was certainly energetic and the duo were clearly playing their deranged parts with just the right levels of seriousness, including the final section which was a quiet, introspective bit of mime. In the grand scheme of things, it was more an art project than music, so as long as they continue to come up with dafter things to do on the visual side (and they don't kill themselves) they should keep on charnel-housing in the free world.

Gout
From one novelty extreme band to what appeared to be another, but whilst Gout came in with Hawaiian shirts on and Human Centipede level-of-humour song titles, it all soon got lost in them being a death metal band. Quite a good one, if that's your thing (which it was for a good chuck of the crowd were), but still essentially a death metal band in Hawaiian shirts. For devotees of the genre its probably a breath of fresh air, and I can see things like the whole band being listed as "backing vocals, backing drums" etc being comedy gold, but whilst they were quite good at what they did they could have been dressed in anything they wanted, including just a bunch of black jeans and t-shirts, for all the difference the schtick made. Not dull, not bad, I'm quite probably not their target audience.

Petrol Bastard

For some this band are the logical end result of 90s industrial / underground electro; observing the disappointment of the promised future that never arrived, slapping it in the face with the realism of parochial, low-rent hedonism, and holding it up on an absurdist, reductivist, pedestal for loving parody and brutal ridicule. For others they're two blokes singing rude, daft, belligerent songs with choruses even the most drunken of audiences can vomit up, that are all done to a jackhammer up-for-it techno backing track that was ganked out of the Prodigies bin. Either interpretations is right, so you can be at the back with a wry, knowing smile or up-the-front dancing-your-tits-off and love it just as much. Easily the act that got the most motion out of the audience (including a can-can line) and certainly the most obsessed with shoving electronics up their arses,

Outright Resistance
Four musicians on stage, thrashing away like the late 80s were back and they wanted to make it into the Big Five. Singer out front, belting out with fury and heart, and scaring everyone backwards because they might as well have had "Face Towards Enemy" stamped on their forehead they were that explosive. It was fast, it was furious, it was jolly good fun, and they are clearly on a mission. They also do requests, finishing on the most chest pounding version of "Safety Dance" I've heard because one of their fans asked them to. The fans that helped them recover from having £5,000 of kit stolen, and the ones that the band are happy to talk to whenever because sometimes you just need someone to talk to and if your listening to this kind of stuff it's likely that your life isn't just roses. I had a chat with the singer at the bar afterwards, and that just confirmed that they are a very genuine act. It's probably not redefining any genres or pushing back that many musical boundaries, but it was good, it was personal without being introvert, they were clearly enjoying being up their to give it their all and, that often makes all the difference.

Trippy Wicked and the Cosmic Children of the Knight
It's a stoner band, playing stoner blues/doom rock in a stoner style. Their sing like their from Alabama and they talk like their from Essex. They introduced a song about wanting a women to get naked with them by saying it was about "a women putting their clothes on my floor" when the song is called "Clothes on my floor" and the hook lyric is "I want your clothes on my floor". Badoom-cha! What they did they did well with no surprises or deviation from the script. They mentioned that they had their album available in "delicious vinyl", I don't know if that was a comment on the format or it's taste. I wasn't stoned, so I failed to give a monkeys.

Whilst the line up was possibly a little heavy on novelty acts, rather than straight up rocking, there was enough range with the acts for their to be something for everyone to like (assuming you like the heavier side of rock in the first place). The crowd was pleasant, the beer was good, the venue just the right size, and I'll be adding the May Brawl back into my calendar.

Breakout Festival - Brighton Racecourse - 26.09.2015

It's not often you associate Brighton with heavy metal & hard rock, but from going along to the Second annual Breakout Festival it's quite clear that they go together as well as ice-cream and beach walks (well, the type that leave you happy, tired, and somewhat deaf). It's also quite clear from having attended this years event that the organisers know how to operate an efficient band-packed event, and that the local scene is filled to the brim with friendly folk out to have a splendid time of it all. And by "all" I mean 14 bands for the outrageously low price of £27.50 (including booking fee), starting at 10:40 and finishing almost 12 music-soaked and fist-pumped hours later.

Opening up was We Deny, a quality pop-punk outfit that managed to pull people in through a combo of ridiculous amounts of energy for that time of the morning and a clear talent for catchy tunes. It was "light, but filling" in the best of ways, getting my feet tapping and face smiling before the first bite of coffee. Quite frankly, if you're under 25 and have even the slightest interest in being happy about things, then put this on your car stereo and just drive off to adventure.

And, whilst it was impressive being that happy at 10:40am, hats go off to Skint Circus for being so utterly pissed off at 11:20 when they rolled out their thick, sweaty, and highly energetic take on hardcore punk with breakdowns, beatdowns, and throwdown flying over the places almost as much as their singer did. Their lead guitarist didn't move much though, he just stood there in a suit jacket looking unnervingly cool. A band with that much anger has a lot to give, and I look forward to hearing more from them.

Next up was Seething Akira, a band who appear to have bridge the existential gap between Enter Shikari and The Midnight Beast. From their jolly intro of "Hello" to their rave-metal bouncing noise, this was everything you could ask for from a band that have one front man who looks like a young Alan Moore in a Lionel Richie t-shirt and another that you could envision your sister politely introducing to your mother. By song two they were both in the crowd, giving things a runaround - kicking off a moshpit conga line, sneaking a cheeky go on the bouncy castle near the stage, all the time accompanied by blood-pumping party revolution rawk. All of this meant that when they asked the question "Have you all had a nice time?" and gave the quippy "That makes us very happy" after the cheer, it came across as honest rather than affected, and just added to the fun factor that was washing over everyone. They have a single coming out, get it and then try to see them live.

The Gospel Youth had a tough act to follow, and their more laid back, radio friendly, alt-rock approach was a good switch of pace from what had come before. Touches of Gaslight Anthem, the odd bit of Fall Out Boy, mostly just solid rock played in a no nonsense fashion. Whilst their look was the most regimented and sculpted of the day so far they were perfectly willing to just let the music and the lyrics do the work for them, so whilst they didn't get much motion out in the slowly growing crowd there were clearly a lot of ears open taking it all in.

Another set, another change in style, something that seems to be the make of Breakout with a very broad range of the church of rock on display. By Definition were the next brotherhood on display, and they had come to give some very hard lessons on the benefits of blues based, groove heavy, slow and steady heavy rock. It was slow, it was steady, it was raunchy, and it was delivered with the restraint of a grizzly bear. Pretty much instantly everyone in the area started smelling of strong liquor and began tapping their hands, feet, heads, and assorted other appendages as the growling, swirling, bass-to-the-guts overload was hammered out.

Zoax were up next and rapidly pitched their tent as a screamo version of The Pixies with a heavy sound that saw more peaks and valleys than a bus going off the cliff in Wales. They also almost had the same visual impact on the stage at times, as all three of the guitarists were throwing their instruments around with so much abandon their mothers would have been worried someone would lose their whole head. Desperate to the crowd moving, their singer Adam stalked the pit like a demon whilst throwing his heart and lungs into every lyric. Not to sure on the safety of bringing a cabled mic into the thick of it, but no-one got hurt and it certainly added to the drama. Then he came over to the table we were sat at and he pinched my hat, so that's one to tell the Godparents once these guys make it big.

Then, for lack of a better term, Black Tongue happened. They just walked on stage, started playing something that sounded like five doom and death metal tracks all at once, hated everything in front of them for even existing for about half an hour, and then headed off. Occasionally they introduced a song with some horror movie sound track but other than that it was just "bang and gone". They even had a guest vocalist for one track that just walked on, screamed, and headed off. Like it, don't like it: they clearly did not have one fuck to give regards your opinion of what they did. Obviously the people who were into it loved it, whilst everyone else seemed a bit bemused. I'm assuming that was the intention. The only down side to their set was the sound techs not being up to task, as there was feedback and pops through out, which was a shame for an otherwise precision performance.

Representing the kind of  poetic, polemic, and curiously swinging hardcore that seems to grow in London, TRC bounded on with the goal of kicking up a riot and ensuring everyone had fun doing it. It was shouty, it was bouncy, it had riffs and energy you could listen to for days. It also had the line of "If you've got some energy, do it. If not, then get to the gym" and the request for the pit to get "a bit like strictly come dancing". The thrash-ier bits were intense, and all over, it got everyone up for a good time that showed the old school have still got it.



Shunning the simple pleasures of music, like tune or melody or even apparent structure, Heck (aka Baby Godzilla) landed next and dropped out a lot of sounds in about half the time you would think it humanly possible. Some might call it mathcore, or extreme jazz, or "all the notes ever, sometimes twice", or "Cream force-fed Napalm Death from birth"  but mostly it was just an exhilarating exploration of what you can do when you say 'no' to almost every rule ever. I'm not going to claim to understand it, but it was compelling and enjoyable like some intricate puzzlebox, especially with the bands determination to hammer their instruments and play them anywhere other than the stage. It was also impressive to watch as there was no-one obviously holding the songs together, but regardless of how far everyone flew off in which direction it kept on coming back to one central point, Oh yeah, and they hate microphone stands. I saw three of them laid waste in the first track alone.

Martyr Defiled hit the stage next, playing something that sounded halfway between death metal and blastbeat-based hardcore. Sadly the performance almost instantly got hit by bad sound, so nothing came across with as much bite as it should have, in the first track. The sense of terror was further eroded by their vocalist sounding so amiable and friendly when talking between tracks, as someone who sounds that devilish when singing, should not instantly strike you as someone you would share cocoa with. It was technically proficient but the performance side wasn't theatrical or passionate enough to really grab up and hold you in its fist.

Finishing up the last of the daylight were The Qemist, a raging slab of power is pitched halfway between The Prodigy and Pendulum, but with enough of their own sound to not sound like a dodgy knock-off. From the off they had everyone bouncing to their uplifting sounds and welcoming stage presence. A couple of the callouts and platitudes to the crowd may have been a tad bit cheesy, but everyone was smiling too much to be offended and they all knew it was meant well. Still, you can't argue with the crowd and they managed to get a huge response as everyone rocked out to their rebel party anthems.

And then night was upon us, and as the stage lights kicked in We Are The Ocean took the stage and played something halfway between alt-rock and dad-rock. It was good for what it was, including a brave attempt at Dazed and Confused (a fifty year old song for a crowd that was mostly under twenty five), it's just that it was too much of a change from what had gone on before through the day. The crowd dwindled visibly, the cold started to suck at people's energy, and though there were moments that landed some response from those left behind, they never landed well enough to convince me they were the right pick for that point in the day.

When Sikth got on stage there was a resurgence in numbers, mostly from the bar, as this was clearly a band that a lot of people had been looking forward to see. Whilst I wasn't aware of the band before today I can clearly see why people like their brand of prog-metal: it's loud, it's fast, it's filled with virtuosity, and it's almost certain to piss off your parents. It was also a highly energetic and frantic performance, which got picked up by the crowd and resulted in a lot of bodies thrashing around & building up a sweat. Personally I liked the spoken-word piece the most, as it was totally unexpected and yet fitted in perfectly with everything else before and after, and a fair chunk of the audience dug it as well. For a band doing their first gig of the year in September, they had clearly been doing more than just practising their tunes. If you are of the progressive music persuasion, then grab a ticket to whenever they play within travelling distance of you.

The day was drawn to a close by Deaf Havana and their brand of alternative rock, which sadly seemed to miss the mark of what the crowd were after in a similar vein to We Are The Ocean if the madly diminished audience was anything to go by. Those who stayed had a lovely time, listening to some heartfelt tunes and rocking singalongs, but for a lot of people it was either time for bed after an incredibly long day in the sun or just not their thing after the prog-metal blowout that had hit them before.

Still, with that much range and at that price, you can't have everything your way. However, you can have an incredibly well-organised and perfectly sized event, completed by a pleasant crowd and utterly pleasant staff.  They was also the bonus of all the bands hanging out in the audience, so you could be both encouraged that they are actually real people who got up and did it, as well as get the chance to go up and say "thanks for the music". Book your tickets for 2016, because it's going to be worth it.

Overkill Over Analysed

A wise man once said of rock music,
          "Don't analyse it, man. Don't try to understand it, just enjoy it at face value". 

That man was Lemmy of the mighty Motorhead, a band famed for having released possibly the greatest and most well known Heavy Metal track of the last 30 years: The Ace Of Spades. It is a song that has been used to sell things from cars to snack food, a song referenced as a go-to 'look at the long hairs!' sting, and a song they consistently play as the second to last track at each of their shows. It is a great song, but it has overshadowed the song they consistently end on: I refer to the lesser known, often overlooked, and the literally show stopping Overkill.

But why is it such a great song and what is it about it that makes it such a perfect way to end an hour and a half of concert? I wanted to put this into words, because whilst it may look and sound very simple, there is a hell of a lot going on that deserves closer inspection.

First, the intro. Starting on a solid, speedy, hammering drum rift which essentially stays the same through the whole song, we have 16 bars of pure, primal pounding. Nothing flash, kick drums and cymbals laying down a 4/4.  Then the first guitar kicks in for another 16 bars, a bass riff sounding more like a rhythm guitar and made of two notes being hammered away with more boogie than you can find in some pop-'funk' albums. Next spirals in the lead guitar, diving down and joining the bass for another 16 bars of raw rock and roll with a similarly limited set of notes in perfect accompaniment: simplicity given form and drive, an announcement of the power trio in it's most on target glory. To paraphrase Sun Ra: anyone can play it, only a genius can write it. The tune continues, almost without variation, through the first verse and chorus.

"The only way to feel the noise is when it's good and loud"
A straightforward observation on the live music experience, but the usage of "noise" bringing a truth to the levels involved at a Motorhead performance and of the oeuvre of Heavy metal as a whole. Also "when it's good and loud" carries the mixed meaning of the music being of a high standard and the pure quantity of output having a positive quality all of it's own. This is not simple language, this is simple words used as poetry.

"So good I can't believe it, screaming with the crowd"
A line that captures the duality of the concert goer in that you experience it as an individual whilst feeding off everyone else there. It also gives permission to let it all go, to just express emotion in an incoherent level, a rock and roll tradition from the bobby-sock era reborn and given validity. The usage of "I" is important though, as it also bridges the gap between the performer and the audience, bringing them in as a whole. This is a unified experience, the singer working with the people who have come to listen and be an active part of what is happening. The line is critical, as it binds everyone together.

"Overkill, Overkill, Overkill"
A word by itself, perfectly expressing a multitude. Excessive, over what is required, but carrying a certainty of completion with it. Could everything until this point have been laid down quieter, slower, and with more complication? Yes, but it would not have been as good.

Under a minute in and it's time for the first bridge. The backline keeps things as before, but the guitar jazzes things up a bit - however, importantly, not too much. The core sound is still there, the tempo and attack has not restrained or reset itself. It's the musical equivalent of a minute's straight dash, exhausting but exhilarating. And then the second round begins.

"On your feet you feel the beat, it goes straight through your spine"
Motorhead have, on many occasion, held the official title of "worlds loudest band" so this is quite possibly a literal statement of what the audience is experiencing on a purely acoustic level. But the second section also expresses the release and euphoria many feel at such times. The tendency to foot tap to a beat, the urge to do things when highly motivational music comes on, and the endorphins release associated with music as a whole.

"Shake your head"
A clear reference to headbanging, the hallmark of heavy metal fan appreciation, and an extension of the original 'rocking out' that accompanied the earlier hard rock and heavy rock from which Motorhead came (and were the source of the term, as per the "Motorheadbangers" collective noun for their fans).

"You must be dead, if it don't make you fly"
Testament again to the euphoria gained from the live experience, but with more of the synthesis of the event. What will make you fly? Both the music and the engagement with the music. Also a brag as to the uplifting and inclusive nature of what is going on. Only the dead won't be excited by this song, but it is an un-rarefied experience open to all.

"Don't sweat it, Give it back to you"
There is no need to worry, the band will give unto the audience as well as the audience giving unto them. Again, the experience is not one way, or even two way. This is a group effort - a social event.

"Don't sweat it, Give it back to you"
Seriously guys, we're all going to have a great time.

"Overkill, Overkill, Overkill"
Further restatement of the overall impact of what is happening, and the set up to the second bridge. This time the lead guitar is a bit more wild, a bit more free. But still the backline is locked in tight, unbreaking at the minute and a half mark - then be rejoined at the two minute point for another couple of rounds of the main hook, before the final set of lyrics

"Know your body's made to move. Feel it in your guts"
No instruction on how you should move, but pure license to move in any manner you want. By now you should be lifted, you should be elated, and on a primal level you will be acting how you see fit. Action is the key, to what end is down to the individual.

"Rock 'n' roll ain't worth the name, if it don't make you strut"
A key line, possibly the most important and certainly worthy as the finishing statement. This is Rock & Roll, pure and simple. This is Blues, bubbled through fifty years and mutated through a Marshall stack, but it's rock and roll - and it needs to make you feel good. This is a gauntlet thrown down to others, this is a testament to everything you have heard in the show and it is the final closing endorsement of all previous markers highlighted in the song. Right here, right now, this is how rock and roll makes you. Anything else is a shame - accept no substitutes.

"Don't sweat it, get it back to you
Don't sweat it, get it back to you
OVERKILL, OVERKILL, OVERKILL"
A re-enforcement of the above, a final sing along of passion, a final one word chant that carries volumes with efficiency.

Lyrics sung, we have the finale. The guitarist is let loose, unrestrained but still running with the pack, darting around the unstoppable force of the drums and bass. They have done so little but it has filled vast voids, given the six-stringer the backing needed to highlight and carry it's work. Then the first tempo change, the first deviation from the last 180 seconds of breakneck rocking. Things slow, the notes are fewer, the cymbals are pounded in the classic marker that it is all done. Slightly over the regulation 3 minutes for a pop-song, but still on form for a classic.

But wait, it was a ruse! The drums start again, the same loop and the same pressure. We are literally back to the start of the song, as all the parts fill in again for another round. A second rush of steam, although with a more intense guitar lead from the off. Unleashed, unbound, unburdened by needs for words. You know everything there is to know about what will happen now, there is no need for communication as all there is is understanding. The band are off, the audience are off, it's pell-mell to the real finishing line! One last huzzah, one more minute of life at it's best. Then over, done, spent.

...Not really. It's called "Overkill", not "just enough". The pounding starts again, the engine now running on empty. The band gave it their all, the listener gave it their all, how can anything else be dragged up? Well, it is rock and roll so we best get going with it even if we are running on fumes. The bass and the lead are more urgent, still working the core tune like sirens going off. Rabid and exhausted, the song almost doubled in length from anything that previously seemed the requirement. And then, finally, a ridiculous five minutes after it all began, the actual conclusion of the song that has left you shattered and unable to go any further.

Although, with the live version - it does. The band leaves the stage, but their instruments continue though strength of pure feedback, the music no longer needing to be anything but literal force and presence. The wash over the crowd is total, nothing can be heard other than the aftermath of what has come before, a post orgasmic chill that can continue under its own existence, an adrenaline rush given musical form. You have survived, you have experienced - and you are going to have it ringing in your ears for days, as the concert, the rock and roll explosion, continues to be a part of your life from there on.

Ace of Spades is the classic, it's is the jab that startles and delights, but like all "one, two" combos, it is the second blow that floors you - and that does the real work.

The Decline of Western Civilisation Collection

Over the course of 17 years, Penelope Spheeris has created arguably one of the greatest and most influential music documentary series ever. Set in Los Angeles and covering the punk scene of the late 70s, the heavy metal scene on mid 80s, & the gutter-punk scene at the turn of century, it explores the sound, performance, politics and business, that exist around each of these worlds and times. It's style was naturalistic, inquisitive, unobtrusive, and at times brutally honest, which was eloquent and effective enough to eventually become part of the DNA of everything that has followed - with clear impact on Reality TV and the rockumentaries of MTV & VH1.

At the core of each film is, fittingly, live performances which are used as showcases for the scenes by giving equal focus for those on stage and off. The style is naturalistic, observational, and intriguing as anthropological documents. They also sound great, even if not all of the bands presented are actually that good. Interspersed with this are interviews with a broad range of individuals involved: musicians, fans, promoters, businessmen and police/authority figures giving the scene outsider/"every-man" view of it all. The iconic set of the blank wall with a single, bare light-bulb hanging at head-height is used extensively, evocative and beautifully simple as it allows the focus to be directly on the individual and their words. Being set in LA it also has plenty of car-based drive-along interviews, which provide the bulk of representation of the city outside of the venues or scene-controlled spaces, giving impressive visual insight into the urban environment that helped shaped the action of the piece. It also demonstrates how super-imposed the scenes are, hyper-stylized worlds pushed up against the realities of everyone else's everyday lives.

Although unified in style and approach, the content of the three is distinct and unique, giving each the flavour they merit. Part 1 has the largest variety of musical styles and shows a scene carving its way into the wider world on it's own terms and with a new sensibility of DIY. Part 2 shows a more homogeneous visual and musical approach and people unapologetically chasing financial success that the other two don't even think about as a possibility or goal, and Part 3 presents a nihilistic and often harrowing focus of fans living a vagrant life which they see no reason to attempt escaping.  Through all this, the topics stay the same: sex, drugs, rock and roll, what will youth be doing in 5 years, is it all worth it, if the goal is art of money, and how people enter into the tribes that they have aligned themselves with. But the changes in the answers are telling, the reasons and motivations changing in each era.

Picking a favourite or "best" is impossible, as each is it's own story. Part 3 is easily the most emotionally upsetting, dealing as it does with homeless under 18's who have basically given up on life as a concern and with 2 deaths happening among those interviewed whilst the "lucky kid" is someone in a wheelchair as they get to have a flat. Part 2 is the most entertaining, with the glam extravagance and heavy metal stupidity being instantly comedic. Part 1 tells the most optimistic story and has the widest range of motivations to be explored.

But the key thing is that these are three fantastic social history documents that are able to carry the interest of anyone who watches it, regardless of their opinions of the music being explored, as they go beyond the successes or failures of individual artists or the benefits or durability of a scene. They are regularly considered classics of the musical-documentary genre because it's something that no-one else thought about capturing, and they have been captured with care, attention and consideration. They offer an insight into real, relatable people, and not just three rocking concert soundtracks.

The Mindsweep - Enter Shikari

The St Albans fab-four are back, bringing another collection of tunes for folks into subjects like the growth of the corporate-state , the imminent ecogedoon  the failings of capitalist greed, and high-energy mixing of big-beat trance with post-hardcore guitar rock. So four albums, 11 years, and no real changes to their whole operation. Although, as they motor into their 30's as flag-bearers of a musical sound that never defined a generation but certainly gave some of it it's own feel, they sure as heck seem to have mellowed out in places.

For example first single "The Last Garrison" starts up as one of their traditional onslaught masterpieces of socially aware observations but then grows into a more thoughtful slow piece. The singalong glory of the main hookline "Head's up and thank fuck you're still alive! There's still air in my lungs, still blood in my veins" isn't the call to arms of youth, it's the pause, consideration, and consolidation of experience that knows it's still got a long way to go. Very powerful, very moving, properly progressive on so many levels. It's a feel that goes through all the album, still powerful but with a bit less frantic and a little more confidence that they don't have to be doing a million things all at once.

"Never Let Go Of the Microscope" is another prime example, with a couple of sections in-between the thrashing that are not far off reggae, and "The Bank Of England" is a slow paced tale of caution rather than what would previously have been a  nonstop scream of disappointment. "Myopia" and "Anesthetist" are more of their classic sound, but even they have a touch less constant drive to them than previous tracks. For long-term fans it's more of what was found on A Flash Flood of Colour than Take To The Skies and Common Dreads, for new listeners it's going to be that little bit more accessible and also demonstration of a greater range. Live it's going to be fantastic, as with longer sets and more options it's going to be a roller-coaster rather than their previous 1000 foot drop.

It's not a radical departure, but a change never the less, and one that works incredibly well. As a band with a very distinct, and in many ways singular, sound they could have easily refined and concentrated the "hardcore with rave bits" approach to diminishing returns. Instead they have expanded and embraced areas of both dance and rock, grown as a band and grown up as an act in the best possible way, to give more of a range and depth of sounds. They have shown that they are going to continue to expand, continue to grow, and continue to make albums as amazing, energizing, thoughtful, and joyful as this one.

Dave Brockie, gone but never forgotten.

The news broke today that Dave Brockie, lead singer and creative force behind The Dave Brockie Experience, X-Cops, and GWAR, had died at the age of 50 on March the 23rd. The cause of his death is currently unknown, but that isn't that important right now. What is important is that a great musician & performer is gone, and we are unlikely to ever see anyone else like him for a while.

In someways the Weird Al Yankovic of metal, in many ways just a great entertainer and lovable character. He was able to observe the absurdities of heavy metal, and produce something that highlighted it excesses, ridiculing its excesses with mock revelry, but also tapped into the core positive sensibilities of community, freedom, and escapism from the dull realities of the world. Yes, his bands all wore exceedingly silly costumes and did overblown theatrics (often featuring 10+ performers on stage at any one time) with insane lyrics. But its easy to forget that each of the projects was simply an extension of what was already being done in the scene anyway, and rather than taking the music to the logical extremes of death-metal or black-metal he took them in the direction of the illogical, and far more accessible, extremes of Saturday morning cartoons.

With GWAR misogynistic sexism was replaced by impossible levels of perversion (often with the female characters coming out on top), stylish disinterest in the audience was surpassed by a wish to destroy the planet, suggested violence was bypassed with regular death on stage (always including major celebrities, normally picked form the local to cause maximum upset), and a hip-upbringing story was replaced by galactic myth and outright bullshit of the first order. All done with a massive respect for the rest of the world and a total appreciation that what they did was ridiculous but, most importantly, that that didn't make it any less important or stop it from being wonderful. And they could play, be it sleazy fast rock, funky dance metal, songs about killer penguins, possibly the most metal song ever, or 70's classic AOR, because no-one gets to do something for 30 years unless the basis of it is solid skills and talent. Always bubbling away at the edge of social acceptability with Grammy nominations and Beavis and Butthead mentions (even managing to get a gig on Fox News for a while), they have always been too out-there to break big yet always great enough to always be unmissable. Sadly Brockie's death is likely to give them the fame they always deserved, mostly because with such an unpredictable band its going to be safer playing the tapes than letting them into the studio.

Meanwhile X-Cops (always criminally underrated IMO) was the answer to the question "what happens if a bunch of pissed off police formed a band" (and also 'how badly does a band suffer if they are their own support on a tour") when tracks like "Cop Killer" were all the rage and the LA Riots were still kicking up a storm of dissension. It was antagonism and ridicule at its highest, as well as tapping into the raw politics of what you could and couldn't sing about as a rock band. The Dave Brockie Experience was just weird, with simple, almost punky, little tunes about things like being a squirrel because why the hell not. Minimal irony or post-modernism, simple good fun.

So 'Thank You' Dave, for three of my favorite bands ever, and for an unrelenting willingness to be utterly serious about doing things for a joke. Thank you also for one of my favorite live performances ever, which much like your death ended abruptly and with me (and others) hungering for more. You are gone too soon, and we will miss you.

Skindred @ The Junction, 31/01/2014

As a rule January is a horrible month. So what better way to ignore the horrible, wet weather (and snot inducing colds) than to get blasted in the face with a load of upbeat, high energy, positive rock & roll!

Due to traffic and rain we only got to see about half of Viza's set, which was annoying as they were kicking up a storm with their traditional Greek styled hard rock. For a band that no-one had heard of they were doing incredibly well, and by their last tracks the first few layers of the bit were bouncing and most folks I could see at the back (colds and pits really don't mix) were nodding along with approval. They impressed me enough that I got their latest album and I hope to be seeing a lot of them in the press.

Soil were up next, which surprised me as I'd thought they split years ago. However they are still very much an ongoing concern, sufficiently popular to have brought along a decent chunk of their own crowd, and their take on rocking groove-metal proved entertaining enough. The tracks were a little 'by the numbers' for me but I'm not going to deny the reaction they got, nor the skills they showed off. The only thing I would question was the singers decision to got down to audience level during the final track, as from anything but the front row it looked like he just disappeared before the end of the set.

Talking of questions: just before main act went on the lights were dropped and "Thunderstruck" by AC/DC was started at full volume. What appeared to be entrance music was then played in its full, accompanied by an impressive display of lighting synchronization. Yet no band, just sound and lights. Answers on a postcard please.

Then a dub version of the Imperial March kicked off and Skindred walked on to conquer all with their high energy metal-meets-reggae-meets-punk-meets-dub-(meets-occasional-touch-of-dubstep) sound. It's difficult to not use the word "unique" when describing what their music is like, so for full reference just checkout their discography. Let's just say that it sounded fantastic, that all musicians were at the top of their game, and that if the tunes didn't get you moving then you were dead to the world. To top it off Benji Webbe, resplendent in dredded up business suit and union jack hanging from his microphone, soon had the audience in his hands, getting every moving and swaying just as needed. The positiveness of his message was unmistakable: it's not common to have a frontman demand everyone live "meaning lives", but when he says it you know its a serious command rather than crowd pleasing platitude. Never pious though, as proven by asking who in the audience smokes dope and then playfully threatening to tell the police on them. There was also a fair amount of 'start song, stop song, tell crowd they have to do better, then start up again' (possibly a little too much) and sing-along fun to be had, all of which gave a great sense of community and togetherness. And then the final song was played, and everyone realised they had to go home in the rain. Still, totally worth it!