Robyn Writes

Cradle Of Filth – Cambridge Junction, 2/8/12

Cradle of Filth are undoubtedly an English institution. Despite their revolving door policy on band members, Captain Dani Filth has steered his creation through two decades of dark and murky music, stopping only to piss off the BBC and write a book in the meantime. Now, regardless of the nationalities of past and present band members, the music that Cradle creates is unmistakably British. British in tone, lyrical content and ultimately in promotion. British, British, British.

So, can someone please explain why they haven’t graced our shores for a full tour since 2007? It’s not for lack of releases, that’s for sure. Two triumphant albums (2008’s Godspeed on the Devil’s Thunderand 2010’s Darkly, Darkly Venus Aversa) and two questionable EP’s have passed, so one could be forgiven for thinking their homeland had been forgotten. 2008 brought about a European ‘Filth Fest’ tour which saw Cradle share the stage with Gorgoroth, Moonspell and Septic flesh, but a short headline slot in December is hardly anything to rave about. Saying that, my personal experiences of the UK’s dalliance with Filth Fest are largely clouded by the ingestion of unholy amounts of vodka. Merry Christmas indeed. And Bloodstock 2009? A gobstopper the size of a snowball swiftly cut that set short.
So here we are, 2012. Filth-less while the rest of the world (especially North America, you lucky buggers) is bathed in the stuff. But thankfully, like manna from heaven, we are granted one singular date. A Wacken warm-up show in the dark, spooky depths of…um…Cambridge.

While Cradle’s black metal credentials are all but gone, this was not the case of fellow Ipswich chaps, Eastern Front. Covered in corpsepaint and possessing gurns so grim that they looked they were passing a kidney stone, they certainly looked the part. Musically, while they were very standard, both in execution and content, they did possess a certain amount of charm. While I find a lot of modern black metal uninteresting and dirge-like, they managed to hold my interest with some incredibly captivating guitar work and some fast, unfaltering drums. Despite all this, with songs based solely around 1940’s war efforts and stage names including terms as ‘holocaust’, I found them to dance between stereotypically laughable and naively offensive. However, this may just be an example of my personal preferences interpreting aesthetic choices in a different manner to the way they were intended.

Cue an overly-long darkened stage and some classic Cradle intro music, and then those filthy beasts took to the stage.

To their credit, their setlist proved to be a pretty accurate representation of their entire back catalogue. With oldies such as Ebony Dressed for Sunset and Funeral in Carpathia set against newer offerings like Thank Your Lucky Scars, it worked well and every track was performed with the same professionalism and passion that originally bore them. Also, more vocally challenging tracks such as Cruelty Brought Thee Orchids were performed incredibly well by Dani Filth, which proved to be quite a pleasant surprise considering the inevitable wear and tear his vocal chords have undergone through over a decade’s worth of screaming. Guitarists Paul Allendar and James McIlroy proved to be so adept at their instruments that the very act of watching them felt like a great privilege, and this coupled with their effortless charisma and practised stage personas, I soon felt as though I was no longer watching human beings. Drummer Martin Skaroupka and new bassist Dan Firth (not confusing at all) followed suit and performed effortlessly and mesmeric ally throughout. While Dan Firth certainly impressed with his first official outing in Cradle, it was such a shame to say goodbye to Dave Pybus; a firm fan favourite and incredibly talented musician.

Crowd pleasers such as Guilded Cunt and From The Cradle to Enslave just about brought the venue to its knees with the sheer ferocity of the audience’s reaction, yet newer songs such as Lilith Immaculate and Honey and Sulphur were met with a somewhat flat response. Cradle of Filth’s audience has undeniably changed over the years; the fans that drenched themselves in corpsepaint in 1994 seemed to dwindle by the time 2004’s Nymphetamine appeared, and now we’re left with an odd soup of fans – some baying for nought but Cruelty and the Beast, others content with whatever’s flung their way and others that spend the set screaming ‘Dani! Dani!’ at a pitch only dogs can hear. Whatever your preference, the clear message from the majority of the Cambridge set was that although the musicianship is faultless and the songs perfectly good, the raw unbridled passion from earlier works is second to none on a live platform.

Song choices aside, the performance itself was spectacular. Cradle of Filth, stripped of the gimmickry of demonic puppets and half naked dancers, proved their worth a thousand times over. Dani Filth, the domesticated father and husband channelled the bowels of hell once more and stamped it on his homeland. Those of us that witnessed Cradle’s long-awaited homecoming were more than a little privileged, and put it this way; I spent my 22nd birthday queueing from 9am for this gig, and I don’t regret a damn minute of it. Cradle stole my soul as a pre-teen and I certainly don’t think I’ll be getting it back any time soon.

You Can’t Ignore This Polar Noise

The UK hardcore scene is so exciting and varied nowadays, that many of us would be hard pressed to pick a definitive forerunner of the genre. That said, one of those making the loudest noises (in terms of innovation and performance) is undoubtedly Guildford’s finest, Polar. Meshing the best points of punk with the brutality and visceral nature of hardcore, they manage to create a sound of their very own. As for live performances, just add a smattering of rabies and you’ve pretty much got it. Their passion and belief in their sound is only eclipsed by their respect for their genre and forbears; a trait which is lacking in many of their contemporaries.

After signing to A Wolf At Your Door Records, it’s safe to say that not only their popularity, but their sound has gone from strength to strength. Maturity is not a word often applied to such bands as Polar, but with the release of 2012’s Iron Lungs, such a label is indisputable. That is not to say that their first official release, 2011’s This Polar Noise, is no longer relevant; conversely it remains one of the most exciting and releases in recent years. Its visceral and powerful nature will take more than a few years to dull.

In short, if they’re not already there, you need Polar in your life.

This Polar Noise ticks all the right boxes. It’s frenetic, fast paced and heavy as hell. Yes, such traits are applicable to TDON lovelies Brotherhood of the Lake and Hang the Bastard, but Polar have the edge in that they’re varied. Take This Polar Noise opener, the brilliantly titled Tonight Matthew I Am The Batman. Within one song, they effortlessly combine solid riffs with decent, comfortable tempo changes, gang vocals and, wait for it, refreshingly coherent lyrics.

It’d be stupid to not address the tone of lead vocalist Adam ‘Woody’ Woodford’s voice – more punk than traditional hardcore, but with a natural raw tone unmatched by any other on the scene today. This is none more noticeable than in Shanghai Junk, where his unusual voice is set against the more bass-y, growly tones of the multitasking guitarists. If anything, I really do prefer his higher, more forced form of singing. It brings with it an odd sense of sincerity and power that’s so hard to capture with most identikit ‘heavy’ singing styles.

Quite often, the five-piece unleash a ferocity that’s so convincing and compelling that you feel you can touch it. In Cowboy The Fuck Up, Woody goes as far as outshining guest vocalist Steve Sitkowski (former vocalist of the now defunct Outcry Collective). Steve has the thickness and brutality in his voice, but Woody has the passion. As he screams out ‘have I struck a nerve?’, he can come across as somewhere close to unhinged. See it on a live platform and his delivery is verging on the terrifying. The rest of the band, especially the mesmerising drummer Nick Jones, provide a palpable dynamism that is not only solid, but so exciting that one can’t help but move. In Smile You Son Of A Bitch!, there are basslines that rise and fall like horses and a dual guitar attack that just about blows you over.

This is raw Polar, angry and animated. Born for the stage.

2012’s Iron Lungs was a very different beast indeed. Far more considered, and even restrained in places, it seems as though they’ve undergone a mini-metamorphosis and realised that they don’t have to throw everything they’ve got at a project for it to be powerful and valid.

Take opener, K.C.M, for example. Instead of throwing everything altogether at once, the track builds to its huge peak only after a rolling drum fill intro and intertwining, soaring guitar lines. Other contributing vocalists are heard far clearer and moments of gang vocals are used sparingly but incredibly effectively. The repetitive call of ‘first one draws the blood…’ is elevated to a new level, invoking a more primal call and response effect.

Sick Old Buzzard is nothing short of electrifying. Nothing is sloppy or second rate. No part of the band rests on their laurels, yet no individual is the isolated ‘star’. There’s a cleverness sewn into their performance – they’re crisp and clean.

Eighteen and H.E.L.L have been ridiculously overplayed on my non-brand-specific mp3 device. Eighteen really is the birth of a sound. I can’t emphasise this enough, the guitar line and supporting vocals that push up the denouement of ‘Things will never be this good again’ are nothing short of breathtaking.  H.E.L.L takes the ball and runs with it. Subtitled with the phrase ‘Helping Everyone Live Longer’, this acts as a ‘best of’ of Polar’s capabilities. Guitars are used as weapons; they cut clean then tear through existing sounds. Basslines roll across drums that fall like ammunition. The atmosphere, nay, wall of sound, is indescribable and envelops the listener.

Lifeboats and Bruiser follow in a similar suit, maintaining that trademark ferocity, but remembering when to draw it back. That’s not to say that they’re like a lion in captivity, trapped behind a fence. Far from it. When one rations more powerful musical tricks and features, they become all the more powerful when they are employed. A basic line, but one that is employed rarely in such genres.

In an incredibly bold move, Iron Lungs’ title track is purely instrumental; leaving their frontman obsolete. A bold move, a dangerous one, but it certainly pays off. Some album’s instrumental tracks are clearly just songs written for a vocal line but abandoned last minute. Take Cradle of Filth for example (a different genre, but the point stands), older instrumentals such as those found on the Bitter Suites to Succubi EP are wonderfully crafted beings – experimental and just as relevant as the other tracks alongside it. Whereas when time passed and we got into more ‘Venus Aversa’ territory, they sat well as album tracks, but had no discernible selling point of their own. Polar uses and executes the changeable outlet of ‘the dreaded Instrumental’ perfectly. Yes, it bears no real brutality and probably wouldn’t prompt a wall of death if performed live (but hey, who can tell nowadays), but is easily one of the most relevant tracks in Polar’s back catalogue. This cements Polar not only as a solid band, but of a richly talented collection of musicians. Sure they like to party and might well smash into you at a gig, but they’re more than their surface image, and this is proof.

While The Dead Travel Fast fits comfortably into the category of being perfect for live performance, it is songs such as In County and Broken Bones that the adjective ‘anthemic’ can be thrown about. Breakdowns and thick beats are all well and good, but every album needs a smattering of a sing-a-long, and Iron Lungs is no different.  It is the power placed behind the choruses of such songs as these and For King and Country that force them to transcend the mere stage of ‘rousing’ to ‘heart-thumping, raw-throated madness’.

They may plaster their metaphorical walls with the mantra ‘Big beats, strong booze, loose morals, good times’, but Polar are so much more than that. They’re powerful musicians, lyricists and songwriters. Many bands in a similar genre achieve mid-level success, then disappear off to be merch boys, plasterers or nail technicians. Polar? They burn so brightly and so fiercely, that should they choose to call it a day, the UK scene wouldn’t just miss them, they’d be left with a bomb crater to fill.

Interview with We Are Fiction [6/7/2012]

Kitteh catches up with the fellows of We Are Fiction in Peterborough, chatting about Phil’s arse, fighting bears and of course, the music.

Artist Spotlight: Chase The Enemy

In 2003, Amy Lee from Evanescence stood on stage at Rock am Ring and said ‘I am the only chick of today…in all the bands. C’mon girls, let’s get more of us up here, seriously!’. I’d love to say that her comments prompted a new wave of innovative, exciting and empowered female musicians, but sadly, as we all know, this was not the case. Paramore came along and suddenly every girl from Bromsgrove had a Tennessee accent and orange hair.

I’ve seen more Hayley-esque frontwomen than I could ever possibly want to; so much so that if I hear the phrase ‘female fronted alt-rock’, I inadvertently grit my teeth. Needless to say, initially at least, Essex’s Chase the Enemy fell into this bracket. A tiny girl backed by four barely-out-of-school lads? Oh god, not that old chestnut. But you know what? Once I stopped dreading the possibilities and actually listened to the band, I found myself pleasantly surprised.

Chase the Enemy are a band in flux. They dance along the line of ‘innovative alt/pop rock’ and ‘unsettled homage’. Take their track Weigh Me Down – it’s filled with painfully catchy riffs, as is much of their output. Yet despite this, one can’t help but feel like the track is trying to build to something powerful; something that it never quite reaches. This is what happens when Chase The Enemy’s self-awareness and accompanying reluctance to ‘let go’ really get in their way. As a result, instead of focusing on the track’s highlights, your attention is drawn towards musical similarities that prove to be about as unsubtle as a hormonal divorcee at a Twilight convention. There’s a fine line between ‘derivative’ and ‘inspired by’, and for the most part, this doesn’t concern the Essex five piece. But in such tracks as Weigh Me Down, their influences detract from their own talents. This is applicable to most areas of the band – including instrumentalists – but it is most noticeable in the vocal lines. Jessica Moore’s vocals have a delightfully distinctive and fresh tone, regardless of the song, but sometimes they are marred by a noticeably unnatural twang. This may be as a result of some subconscious imitation, but often I found that this unnatural diction could sometimes result in rather oddly pitched notes. On the flipside, some may see this tone as an enjoyable quirk, and the songs that heavily feature this trait are not wholly unenjoyable. Moore undoubtedly has a great vocal talent – her natural sweet tone and enviable control are visible from the off. But it’s songs such as Give Us The Sky that really show Chase the Enemy as an innovative musical act – layered vocals, great grasp of the genre and an all-round very rich sound. When Moore really pushes her vocals and sings with her natural voice, not the voice she thinks she should have, that’s when the whole band are allowed to shine. I left the song grinning, thinking ‘ooh, do that, do that, keep doing the good thing!’

Lionheart is the real stand out track in CTE’s artillery – it’s powerful, upbeat and most of all, fun. And the accompanying video? Frontwomen of the future, go watch it now. Not only does everyone MOVE, but they even *gulp* look like they’re enjoying it! Tracks like this really do epitomise all that Chase The Enemy are when they’re at their best; solid songs with sparkling moments of true brilliance. With great riffs, cookie-cutter pop-punk drumming and a palpable togetherness from the whole band, what’s not to like? Even if their sound isn’t to your taste, you can’t help but admire their passion and clear love of their genre.

Silent Descent – Mind Games

It’d be stupid not to say that one of my most hotly anticipated albums of the year was Silent Descent’s Mind Games. After the synth-based battering that was Duplicity, I found myself both excited and apprehensive when faced with studio reports and pre-order dates – Duplicity is one of my ‘go to’ albums. It’s heavy, it’s slick and it’s always fresh. So, as ever, I was expecting sod’s law to step in and make Mind Games a steaming pile of electronic dirge. Besides, effectively meshing electronica with more heavy genres is always a bit of a balancing act. Doing it well is difficult, but retaining the quality of your releases over the years is damn near impossible. Yet somehow, somehow, Silent Descent have managed to keep their scales beautifully balanced and created a wonderful, compelling, earth-shaking monster.

From start to finish, Mind Games proves to be a full-on, atmospheric affair. It bypasses all the usual trappings of both death metal and contemporary dance; each track has a different pulse, feel and life. Its consistency lies in its quality. While retaining all the hallmarks of a Silent Descent record; the versatile vocals, pushed almost to breaking point, and the pounding, melodic synths of their more than distinctive keyboardist, Kipster, go part way to push Mind Games into legendary territory. Guitars, drums, bass… everything is tight and impressively skilful. Yet thankfully, at no time does anyone venture into gratuitous, over-the top ‘look at my skillz’ excess, though the temptation must have been hard to bear at times. While Silent Descent retain a sound like that which graced Duplicity, it has been noticeably tightened, cleaned and distilled with the mixing skills of Scandinavian metal virtuoso, Pontus Hjelm (Dead by April). With such a distinctive musician comes a distinctive tone – and again, somehow, it meshes beautifully with Silent Descent’s own rounded and now, very mature sound.
Mind Games is impressively well structured; its short introductory track Overture acts as a smooth gateway drug to the pounding calls of ‘defecate…procreate!’ that soon follow in such tracks as Breaking the Space. Breaking the Space proves to be a particularly exciting example of the band’s understanding and control of their genre; it’s certainly trance-metal, dance-metal, synth-metal or whatever we’re calling them this week, but it really is so refined and considered in its changes in pace and tonality that you can’t help but listen, utterly dumbfounded.

The most noticeable change in Silent Descent from their Mind Games days is their handling of their electronic equipment and vocals. While Duplicity is a solid album, a really great album in its own right, Mind Games knows when to ration itself. With tracks such as Psychotic Euphoric, the screams are still there, but now they’re buffered with clean vocals and the odd, dare I say it, harmony. The machine-gun drums and synths are still there (Give On That Trip a listen), but again, they have their place, and as a result, their effectiveness is considerably heightened. This may make their output considerably more accessible to different groups of dance and metal fans, but it also makes their sound far more interesting to the existing fan. In reconsidering their approach, they’ve opened up many more musical avenues to explore. This is none more noticeable in the phenomenal Bricks. It’s the sort of song you’ll find yourself singing around the house, but you’d also feel comfortable listening to it in a venue while wiping someone out in the pit. Pianos, a bassline that could reposition your bowels and a dalliance with the idea of a ballad? It shouldn’t work, but Christ, it does – and you don’t want it to stop.

Coke Stars is the real stand-out track on the album. Featuring guest vocals from the ever-incredible Sarah Jezebel Deva (ex-Cradle of Filth, Angtoria etc), it’s a real demonstration of what can be achieved when synths get smart. While Deva provides the soaring vocal melodies that made her such a stalwart of the British darkwave scene, the rest of the band are able to comfortably compliment her, while still keeping the track their own.

Very rarely does any track on Mind Games seem sub-par; it’s been a fair while in the making, and it shows. It’s easy for songs of such a genre to blend into one another, but Silent Descent have managed to bypass such traps and create a distinctive sound from track to track. The tracks that didn’t make my theoretical BEST SONGS EVER playlist, such as Bring-In-Sanity and the title track are by no means bad, just not quite as innovative or compelling as their album counterparts.

Mind Gamesis capable of being regarded as a modern classic – the kind of album that sparks a mini-musical movement and grabs a generation of imaginations. All they need is more exposure – the chance to assault more eardrums. Besides, now that Pendulum are no more, there’s a synth-based crown ready for the taking. If anyone deserves it, it’s this lot.

4.5 out of 5 high fives!