Robyn Writes

Everything On Red – Songs For Sirens

Fancy something a little different? Everything On Red may well be for you then. A truly refreshing take on this whole pop-punk thing, it’s actually pretty hard to shoehorn Everything On Red into one particular genre. Songs For Sirens is a fantastic showcase of everything they have to offer, all in a sweet little six song package.

Opening track Welcome To The Sundown is more fun than a four hour session on Spyro 2 (and we all know how ridiculously fun that is!) with a mesh of different vocal styles, some surf punk style guitars and a chorus like no other. The different vocal styles is a major highlight throughout all the EP, with each member contributing in their own way. It achieves a totally unique feel and sets Everything On Red miles apart from the rest. Pull The Pin And Count To What continues along the same lines but with some absolutely crazy synth. It’s a bit like Motion City Soundtrack if you fed them mass amounts of Coca-Cola and bubblegum Millions – bouncing off the walls with glee.

Although the EP is generally rather happy and dancey, there are some more hardcore moments spread throughout. Tribute To Tragedy and All The Best Adventures are great examples of this – the screamed vocals come into the forefront, particularly in the latter, to create some more poignant moments. Despite the happy-go-lucky feel of the music, there are certainly some more thought provoking lyrics to go alongside them – We Never Stop tackles feelings of youthful despondency and the desire to get out there and “make a scene”. If there’s one way to describe the EP overall, it’s a bit like the Eleventh Doctor; ridiculously fun and loopy, but ultimately very clever and a little bit deeper than you first think.

The one thing is that occasionally, the keyboards sound a little gimmicky. Although they’re part of what makes the band so individual, the tone chosen sometimes conflicts with the tone of the song – Tribute To Tragedy being the main offender. When implemented right though, the keyboards help to create a very individual and very compelling sound.

Some new tunes can’t come too soon. If you want a short, sharp blast of something special, then get your ears around Songs For Sirens.

4 out of 5 high fives!

Reviewer slot open!

For a number of different reasons, Rosalia has decided to step down as a regular contributor. You will still see a few articles from her, but she can no longer commit to the regular reviewer position. As such, we have a slot open!

If you’re interested in writing reviews for TwoBeatsOff (with scope to get involved with other aspects of the site), then please send a sample of your work to ripper@twobeatsoff.co.uk. The position is unpaid, but you’ll get the opportunity to have your work displayed on an up-and-coming zine that averages around 60,000 hits a month (that’s more than Christopher Gutierrez of askheychris fame is getting at the moment!) and get your hands on new music from some of the best new punk, ska, hardcore and alternative bands around right now.

We are open to giving more than one person the position if we get a lot of brilliant stuff, but we are essentially just looking for one more person at the moment. There will be more advertisements for positions once the site redesign has been fully implemented.

xoxo – Ripper

Summer Sesh All Day Skatepunk/HC Extravaganza – The Matrix Club, Grimsby, 18/8/12

My beloved hometown Grimsby, despite its impressive levels of knife crime and teenage pregnancy, doesn’t seem to have a lot going for it. Considering our greatest claims to fame include Ian Huntley and the battle scenes from Atonement, it’s safe to say that civilisation often seems to pass us by.

When I was a whippersnapper, the local music scene was positively crackling with excitement and innovation. Thanks to the Cleethorpes Winter Gardens (God rest her soul), local bands were given the chance to perform both at extensive showcases or alongside such established and dare I say it, legendary names as Hanoi Rocks, The Damned and even Marky Ramone. While the Winters met its untimely end at the hands of a wrecking ball, the Grimsby Matrix Club bubbled in the background. Hosting the odd gig here and there and seeing bands such as Bring Me The Horizon and Enter Shikari pass through its doors, the Matrix began to set itself up well. But as the gigs began to lessen in number, I got older and discovered city venues, leaving hometown music as far away as possible.

That was until a brightly coloured gig poster cropped up online and practically tore my eyes from my skull. A £5 all-dayer with great names, cheap booze and a BBQ? I was in.

First to the tiny stage (playing to an even tinier audience) were Ricochet (3/5), a new, local, 90’s-esque post-punk effort who were celebrating their first official gig. Despite their young ages and the unfamiliarity of a new band, they played incredibly well, with the young drummer drawing particular acclaim for his skill. Although they hardly pushed any boundaries, they showed themselves to be a solid group with the potential to create a very impressive sound should they stay together for the long haul. Next up were Hoof (3/5), a hard-to-place alt band combining the gang vocals of Sum 41 with the simplicity and upbeat pace and tone of bands such as The Headstart and NFG. Not fitting comfortably into the punk or hardcore camps, they were nonetheless a very fun support act who did well to bring up the tone and mood of the whole gig. East on Main (3/5) continued on the gang vocal theme, but used it to such a degree that it soon lost its appeal. While their set wasn’t particularly exciting or overly-memorable, their sound was something quite interesting. Imagine the bastard lovechild of Rise Against and Bullet for my Valentine was lightly washed in hardcore, and you’ve just about got it. If they stripped back their layers and rebuilt their sound, they could become something very interesting indeed. LITFO(2/5) and Darko (3/5) proved to have nailed the vocal problem that was prevalent in previous acts; great gang vocals used in bursts, but with enviable control throughout. Strong vocals and great riffs triumphed over the dodgy sound system and left themselves being the first memorable sets of the night. Despite this, there were two major flaws in LITFOs set. Firstly, the vocalist’s efforts at more guttural or screamy tones should really be confined to the practise room; the natural tone wasn’t there and drew away from his other abilities. Secondly, and this was what really tainted their set for me, their ill informed verbal attacks on more successful acts were frankly disgusting and infuriated me beyond belief. Jealously isn’t a pretty trait and malformed speeches with an ‘us against them’ attitude destroyed any lingering enjoyment of their sound. No Contest (2/5) were an odd band to place; with an atonal vocalist and no real direction to their sound, they were far from engaging. Despite this, I did find myself enjoying the basic instrumental parts of their songs. Each musician was certainly competent and sparks of innovation stopped me from wandering off back to the bar. Saying that, much more work is needed before their sound becomes something of real merit.

When Fair Do’s (4/5) came to the stage, my confidence in the evening was waning, but thank the punk lords, they brought a smile back to my face. Blasting out a solid, exciting and fun slab of post-hardcore inspired punk (like a heavier version of Set Your Goals but with less of an agenda), they earned both the attention and respect of the entire venue. With their usual vocalist stranded in some foreign land, guitarist Danny took over vocal duties and performed with such ease that a casual listener would be hard pressed to see why a separate vocalist was necessary. Almeida (4/5) followed suit with a gripping, if odd, set of prog-thrash with a smattering of synths for good measure. With their dynamism and innovation, they reminded me of a young Enter Shikari; a band made of pure energy, just waiting for a stage big enough to contain them. The Departed (3.5/5) brought the evening back down to a more familiar genre. Performing a very animated brand of melodic hardcore (similar to that of Comeback Kid) they showed themselves to be a powerful force that could really take off should they manage to get themselves a higher profile support tour with a TDON darling. Headliners and Lockjaw stalwarts The Fear (4.5/5) easily stole the evening with an incredibly engaging, impressive and professional set. Combining the power and raw passion of hardcore with a palpable upbeat energy, their very personal sound was so absorbing that I began hoping the night would be a few hours longer. Somewhere between and old Deaf Havana and MXPX, their moment of glory is no doubt just around the corner.

Reading Festival 2012 [Richmond Avenue, Reading]

Reading Festival has long been a staple of my summer. This was my fourth year running with a full weekend ticket and about my seventh year attending overall. Somehow, the summer just doesn’t feel the same without a trip down to Reading – usually, my dad drives us down and dumps us at the river, then we slog down to the campsite, set up shop and collapse with drinks in hand (or a Coke Zero for me, let’s be honest) until the bands start on Friday. This year, with the formula slightly altered – sister’s friends drove, all my friends bailed on me – I could just tell that things would be… different somehow. Well, apart from not having a real shower for five days – that’s always going to stay the same.

I kicked off my Friday with Deaf Havana (4/5) on the main stage. Despite already hitting the ciders, the band were on top form to open the festival. With a set comprised almost completely of songs from crowd-friendly but brilliant Fools And Worthless Liars, it was a tuneful, optimistic beginning to the weekend. Finally fulfilling one of their ambitions, as James Veck-Gilodi explained, it was great to see one of Britain’s most up and coming bands play to so many people that early on. Over in the NME/Radio 1 Tent, Hadouken! (4/5) set a completely different precedent to Deaf Havana. Ramping up the intensity to 11, Hadouken! came to party hard and didn’t disappoint. While I’m not necessarily the biggest fan of their recorded material, they’re simply exhilarating to behold on a live platform and the tent was packed – clearly an indicator of their well deserved status.

Back on the main stage, Coheed and Cambria (3.5/5) didn’t live up to the usual expectations. Of course, Claudio is a majestic beast on stage and with the original line-up back in place, it’s clear to see that Coheed are in a better place than they have been in a long time. And yet, the set they chose just wasn’t festival friendly and the crowd stood there for most of the time bored and listless. Nevertheless, when Claudio whacked out the double neck SG for Welcome Home, the energy that Coheed are certainly capable of when they’re in the right place was more than obvious.

A brief segway to the Alternative Stage saw us in the company of Adam Hills (4.5/5), that dead funny Australian bloke off Mock The Week. He was certainly onto a winner with his set at Reading, containing a few new gags that had me and my companions almost crying with laughter. With that new show on Channel 4, plus more TV appearances here, he deserves to be enormous.

The Blackout (4.5/5) simply never disappoint. Merthyr Tydfil’s finest delivered an absolutely phenomenal set, picking the biggest anthems from their back catalogue. Sean Smith and Gavin Butler are a joy to watch as they jump across the stage, chucking mics and screaming loud and proud. The Blackout display a passion that’s sadly lacking from so many performers, as well as a professionalism that’s nearly unparalleled. Don’t ever miss them if you have the opportunity to see them – it’s worth it for Higher And Higher alone. In comparison, You Me At Six (3/5) were suitably tepid. Josh Franceschi demonstrated some pretty killer screams, but the band have taken too much from the school of American bands, thanking the audience after every song. While the sound couldn’t be faulted and they certainly played their particular brand of pop-rock adequately, the performance just felt flat. You Me At Six aren’t exactly known for being risk takers and there was certainly nothing unsafe about their set.

The disappointments continued thick and fast with Paramore (2/5). There’s been a lot of drama following the band over the past year. The shock departure of the Farro brothers left them in a bit of a rut and they’re only just getting out of it. Despite Hayley’s protestations that the show was all about the band as a whole though, it was clearly the Hayley Williams show and very little more. Hayley herself is still struggling to strike the right balance between singing properly and shouting weirdly, which is a terrible shame considering the incredible quality of her live performance pre-Riot!. Of course, Paramore have come along a great deal since that time in one way or another, but for a musician so highly praised for her vocal ability, she just doesn’t cut it live. The rest of the band are background characters – what’s left of them, anyway. A completely safe and predictable performance, apart from bringing on a fan for the final chorus of Misery Business and truly, the final nail in the coffin for my interest in Paramore.

The Cure (3/5) didn’t exactly stop the disappointment train in its tracks. A firm favourite of mine since my teen goth days, The Cure are a British institution. They don’t know how to pick a setlist though. When they played the songs we all knew – Lovecats, Inbetween Days, Friday I’m In Love – we were enthralled. The Cure, even after all these years, are still breathtaking, but only when they’re playing the classics. Most of their set was comprised of stuff that I didn’t recognise or didn’t like because despite being able to write anthems, they also know how to create boring background tracks all too well and too many of those made an appearance in their set. The encore was the best part overall, with the crowd and the band really coming alive for songs like Let’s Go To Bed and Close To Me. It’s comforting to know that after all these years, The Cure can still play very well. It’s less so to realise that their idea of timeless and ours no longer correspond.

Saturday’s start was more than a little unorthodox, to say the least. Sat around the campsite, waiting for people to get ready, I get a text from a friend that says “Green Day are on NOW if you wanted to watch them”, so cue a lot of running, potential abandonment of dignity and plenty of swearing. When we finally get into the arena, they’d blocked off access to the NME tent anyway so we stood watching from the big screen. Green Day (5/5) themselves though were completely unforgettable. All the rumours about a Dookie-only set had gone totally out of the window, instead leading to something more along the lines of every single they’ve ever released, meaning some gems like Hitchin’ A Ride and When I Come Around got to make an appearance. Billie Joe Armstrong is as excitable as a toddler in a toy shop, darting around the stage with water guns and tissue cannons, picking up the cameras and exceeds every expectation. Mike Dirnt and Tre Cool are no less enigmatic and quite simply, Green Day’s refusal to grow up lead to one of the most exciting live performances of the weekend, even without us making it into the tent itself.

Mystery Jets (4/5) are always a pleasure. Their lovely indie-pop floated its way through the crowds during the one little bit of sunshine we had, making for a nice, chilled out set. Fan favourite Girl Next Door had virtually the whole field singing along. OFWGKTA (2.5/5) proved a lot more divisive. Odd is definitely the right word for the rap collective. While at times, Odd Future’s material can be insightful, intelligent and highly original, the set at Reading just displayed some badly timed raps and the weaker parts of their back catalogue. Far more impressive were Don Broco (4/5). The Bedford quartet had the Festival Republic stage completely rammed as they threw out anthem after anthem. The band are born performers and their catchy brand of alt-rock will take them far.

Enter Shikari (4.5/5) have been at Reading for the past four years running and every time, are met with adoration and total devotion to the art form that is the human pyramid. Even after the phenomenal success of A Flash Flood Of Colour, Enter Shikari still perform with the chaotic energy and style that they’ve been renowned for and though an ethical message was prevalent within the set, it was ultimately overridden by the biggest party vibe of the festival. The Vaccines (3.5/5) are not really party people, nor do they have a sense of humour quite like Enter Shikari. Nevertheless, their catchy indie rock is perfectly inoffensive and provided some good clean fun.

The final set of the day for me was that of the truly mighty Young Guns (4.5/5). With second album, Bones, the quintet have leapt from strength to strength and this is perfectly demonstrated in their live show. Gustav and co are charismatic and energetic, their songs emotionally charged and completely explosive. Young Guns truly are going to go atmospheric.

Sunday is generally the best day of Reading Festival. Well known for being the festival’s “rock” day on the main stage, the line up on offer this year was second to none on paper. Band Of Skulls (3/5), new purveyors of grungey garage rock, were fairly samey in places, although it is difficult to sound particularly innovative in that genre. Their too-cool-for-school look seeped through into their performance, which worked on a few levels (Effortlessly fashionable? Check. That kind of despondent movement you can only do with grunge? Check) but on others, was just a vague flashback to the 90s. Frank Turner’s new hardcore band, Mongol Horde (5/5) proved to be far more entertaining and diverse, despite the obvious draw from 80s hardcore. It’s hard to think that Frank Turner can be anything but the folk-punk troubadour he’s become these days, but as he leapt onto stage wearing nothing but a pair of cargo shorts, all and any expectations of what Frank Turner is or was can be safely tossed out of the window. He’s got some of the best damn hardcore growls in the business at the moment, his vocals perfectly fitting songs that owe a great deal to the 80s hardcore scene, as well as harking back to the melodic post-hardcore of Million Dead. More complex than the average hardcore outfit and yet gloriously brutal in places, Mongol Horde are really, really good.

Eagles Of Death Metal (4/5) were fun, plain and simple. Rock and roll, no questions asked. Even though I’m not well versed in their back catalogue at all, I still found myself singing along stupidly loud. They’re just that catchy. And yes – Jesse still has that handlebar moustache. Because that’s rock. So is high fiving everyone on the front row, stealing bandanas and trucker caps and causing mayhem before three o’clock in the afternoon. The Gaslight Anthem (4/5) were just as involving but in a completely different way. The success of American Slang and now Handwritten has made them household names and their place on the main stage has been assured. There’s never anything fancy about a Gaslight performance – just great songs played with passion. The Skints (4/5) are hardly strangers to passionate live shows and had the Lock Up tent fit to burst. Equal parts laid back reggae beats and furious ska punk, a large part of the set came from the stunning new album Part And Parcel. In particular, Ratatat sounded insane.

Until this weekend, I’d pretty much forgotten that Bullet For My Valentine (3.5/5) still existed. Fever was just so shocking, it was easy to forget that they’d written some blazing tunes in the past. Their set this year was a good run through of all the classics – ultimately a crowd pleaser. It was a little bit cheesy in places – can British heavy metal ever not be? – but they’re a good laugh all the same. Kaiser Chiefs (4.5/5) lived up to their reputation of being one of Britain’s best live bands in the past ten years. They know what the audience wants and they blasted through all the singles at lightning speed, ignoring any album tracks for the most part. Ricky Wilson is fearless in his approach, launching himself at cameras and diving off of railings. He makes for compelling viewing, but the rest of the band are just as cheeky and full of Northern charm. It’s impossible to walk away from a Kaiser Chiefs set without a substantial grin. The Black Keys (4/5) possess an entirely different kind of charisma, effortlessly leading the crowd through their catchy bluesy rock. While I think that the Kaiser Chiefs should have had a higher billing than them (but alas, the Kaisers have been featured in far less adverts), it’s hard to see how The Black Keys have slid under the radar for so long as they have. Nevertheless, a UK arena tour is happening and they’re finally getting the adoration they deserve.

Finally, after a long weekend, the Foo Fighters (5/5) took to the stage. Dave Grohl instantly holds the crowd in the palm of his hand with a “What’s up England?” and we stay there until the closing bars of Everlong. Even after almost twenty years as a band, the banter is still strong, the enthusiasm is high and everything is note perfect. The Foos are great songwriters, but also highly competent musicians and guitar and drum solos reign throughout the show. And it really is a show – there’s fireworks and paper cannons punctuating the set, but a balance is struck between arena rock posturing and a more intimate feel. Grohl dedicates songs to his mum and his adorable daughters, who are watching from the side and when he tells the story of his first Reading encounter before Times Like These, the thousands of people watching them that night feel closer to any band than they have all weekend, especially when joined in song. A few covers add some fun as well as some old gems like Generator and whether you’re a fan or not, it’s impossible not to be taken in by the sheer brilliance of the Foo Fighters. For rock fans everywhere, for music fans everywhere, the Foo Fighters are an essential part of your live repetoire.

And thus ended yet another Reading, on what we thought was an absolute high. We weren’t counting on the horrific six hour wait to get out of White car park. And as such, the experience was tarnished for me. Usually, Reading is the highlight of my summer and what was an incredible weekend was ruined by shoddy management. Only in England, eh? I think I’ll be giving another festival a shot next year.

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.