Robyn Writes

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.

Hevy Festival 2012 [3-5/8/12, Port Lympyne, Kent]

Kent’s Hevy Festival, situated amidst the idyllic rolling hills of the English countryside hosts its 4th, and if rumours are to be believed – final year of the best underground and overground acts in the field of heavy music. Now boasting three days of continuous live music, Hevy caters for a huge array of tastes, from Swedish math-metal to ska and everything in-between. This year, the organisers have also catered for every possible force the English weather can throw at it by placing the two main stages adjacent to one another in a huge tent- meaning no clashes between the two stages. Genius!

Friday

After the seemingly traditional three hour queue to get in the place there was palpable excitement for the music to commence but due to an inexplicable reason, security stopped the crowd from entering the arena as the first chords of opening band Gnarwolves‘ set rang out. By the time the error was rectified by simply running past the lone and very annoyed security guard, the band were almost halfway through their set. Gnarwolves however, seemed hugely relieved that anybody had come to watch them and the crowd reached a respectable size for such a young, underground band. Playing on a stage about ten times the size of anything they have played on before they remain surprisingly tight and receive the first crowd surfers of the weekend.

Southampton’s Desolated are the first band to really cause a stir as their ridiculously down-tuned chug-core gets the pit moving. In a small venue, Desolated are nothing short of intense but the cavernous tent robs the band of much of their impact. Lead vocalist/growler Paul possesses a voice that sounds downright satanic and as he calls for a circle pit, the early afternoon moshers reply with aplomb.

The rarity at which Last Witness perform live gives today’s show a due sense of occasion and one to which both crowd and band rise to. The band are surprisingly tight considering the scarcity at which they play live – breakdown after breakdown is lapped up by the swarming two steppers in the pit. Songs from recent album Mourning After sound much more visceral than on record mainly due to frontman Theo’s caustic, ultra-aggressive vocal delivery. Judging from the extent of the flailing limbs it is the older songs that incite the most carnage down the front.

Shouts of “TUI!” had been a regular occurrence on the Friday and I expected Baltimore’s Trapped Under Ice to draw a large crowd as they seem to be one of the more ‘trendy’ bands at the moment. Their groove-laden hardcore evokes a pit that surpasses that of the brilliant Last Witness and every shout of “TUI!” (of which there are many) is screamed back at the band who look pretty darn pleased with themselves to have provoked such a reaction. Frontman Justice, with his brick shit-house physique spends much of the set at the barrier handing out the mic to the baying crowd and refusing to let the huge stage rob the band of the intimacy they thrive on. By doing so, they turn what would have been a great performance into one of headliner proportions.

Lower Than Atlantis seem to be as much of a Hevy tradition as the obligatory three hour queue to get in the place. Three years ago they were snotty punks playing to a hundred or so people in a tent little larger than those the festival goers themselves were camping in. Last year’s performance caused such a ruckus the security had to physically hold back the crowd from destroying the sound desk. Now, they have evolved into a slick rock band and are one of the festivals biggest crowd pullers with many singing back most, if not every word. Songs both old and new receive equal adulation with Motorway Of Life getting the crowd jumping and frontman Mike Duce lets the crowd sing the very personal chorus of Far Q. With their gradual rise as leading lights in reviving the UK rock scene it seems that LTA are on track to becoming a fully fledged arena rock band.

Saturday

Saturday began on a sombre note with the final ever show from Crocus, a band who have received nowhere near the amount of attention they deserve despite years of touring the tiniest, dirtiest venues the UK has to offer. Nevertheless, an impressive crowd has gathered to bid them farewell. Rather than let this be a sad passing of a criminally underrated and talented group of musicians, the band seem to be in a party mood with the drummer swigging from a bottle of whiskey throughout their set of frantic screamo.

Seahaven provide a welcome relief from all the beatdowns and screaming with some soulful alt-rock channelling Brand New and Crime In Stereo, but the bands emo leanings and vocalist’s unique crooning vocal are seemingly at odds with the interests of many as they draw only a small crowd. Although far from the most engaging band to grace the stage this weekend their melodic choruses have distinct sing along potential.

Pennsylvania’s Balance And Composure have gained significant popularity since the release of last years brilliant album Separation. Their triple guitar attack may get lost in the mix at times but for the most part the subtleties within the guitar work that makes Balance and Composure such an amazing band shine through. Relying heavily on songs from Separation means that most are familiar with the material and lyrics are sung back heartily. The slow building opener The Void gets heads banging but the crowd doesn’t really start to provide much of an overtly physical response until final song I Tore You Apart In My Head which sees fans scrambling to the barrier to howl the angst infused lyrics.

Relying heavily on shifting dynamics and intense emotional tension Pianos Become The Teeth enthral the crowd. Switching from beautiful clean guitar parts to pure hardcore fury ensures the band retain the crowds attention throughout. Boasting one of the best drummers in their field, I find myself constantly watching the sticksman as he breaks into intricate rhythms whilst his face is constantly obscured by flailing hair. Lead singer Kyle’s cathartic screams are full of anguish and when songs reach their climax he screams with astounding intensity.

Rolo Tomassi returns to Hevy with a new line-up, new songs and renewed vigour. Opening with latest single Old Mystics the band seem to be re-energized since the departure of two original members earlier in the year. Old favourites such as the jazzy technicalities of I Love Turbulence and the epic, progressive leanings of Kasia are welcomed like old friends. Frontwoman Eva Spence and brother James use the huge stage to their advantage, jumping and flailing as they deliver throat shredding vocals. The band is given a fitting send off as the breakdown to closer Party Wounds induces a rabid reaction from fans.

On the face of it, Meshuggah are somewhat of a wildcard booking, being one of the few metal bands on the bill, they don’t appear to fit in with the tastes of the more hardcore inclined festival goers. Any doubts are swiftly swept aside because tonight Meshuggah resemble less of a band but more a force of nature. Even those with no care for brutal math-metal are in awe at the precision at which the devastating riffs are delivered. Emerging onto a smoke filled stage the band looms over the huge crowd. Launching into Demiurge from this year’s flawless album Koloss I am suddenly aware of their boding and unmatched stage presence. Songs are aired from most of their albums and Bleed, from the breakthrough album Obzen, creates scenes of unparalleled chaos amongst the sweaty crowd. As the band walk off stage to huge ovation there is a realisation that Meshuggah have delivered perhaps the most grippingly destructive and extreme performances of the weekend.

Glassjaw are given the tough job of following Meshuggah’s blinding set but Daryl and co rise to the opportunity, playing a set that draws heavily from the band’s seminal masterpiece Worship and Tribute. The opening one-two of Tip Your Bartender and Mu Empire spurs the pit into action whilst the slow paced anthem Ape Dos Mil receives deafening adulation with every word screamed at their charismatic frontman. Siberian Kiss ends the set in a flurry of schizophrenic yet undeniably catchy post-hardcore. Just as in their headline set two years ago, band and fans alike are robbed of an encore that would have no doubt given a perfect ending to a perfect set as roars of “We want more!” go unanswered.

Andrew W.K is a rather one-dimensional act with a vocabulary that stretches little beyond the word “party” and its affiliates. Yet, his good time party anthems fit the mood of the Saturday night perfectly. Despite playing his most well known song Party Hard first, Andrew manages to maintain the atmosphere inciting circle pits and general crowd antics amongst the many festival goers who are by now a little worse for wear. Andrew W.K resembles less of a band and more of a circus, with four guitarists on stage at any one time and a very scantily clad woman who only seems to shout “yeah!” into the mic. Nevertheless, it provides an amusing spectacle. Disappointingly, and rather inappropriately, the band’s set is cut halfway through their final song and the frustration on their faces is obvious. The crowd shows no sign of leaving for a good half an hour by which time chants of “fuck you Hevy” emit through the tent. A lone guitarist attempts to appease the crowd by playing some Slayer riffs but even he is forced off of stage by the crew.

Sunday

Cruel Hand face a very early afternoon slot and a weary Sunday crowd who are still feeling the night before. Seemingly unfazed by the challenge the band unleash slabs of metal infused hardcore and it’s not long before those in the mood for some pit action rise to the occasion. Tracks from the recent release Lock and Key, which rarely reach past the two minute mark are lapped up by the ever growing crowd. The closing extended mosh outro to Cruel Hand sees the pit reach its climax and the band seem humbled by the response.

Sweden’s Suis La Lune are shunned by many of the festival goers, and most of those gathered before them seem to be there only out of curiosity. Highly regarded as one, if not the best of the ‘real’ screamo bands, they hold ethereal atmospheric guitars and harsh, anguished vocals in perfect juxtaposition. The only detractor to their otherwise engrossing set is the long periods in between songs due to the constant need for guitars to be re-tuned.

After Will Haven sadly pulled out several days before, Belgium’s Rise and Fall are gifted a later slot. Their recent release Faith, produced by Kurt Ballou of Converge fame is one of the best records of the year so far. At times sludgy and at others bursting with primal aggression the band also commands a certain progressive edge that is only possessed by a handful of bands and used to its full potential by even fewer. Tracks like Deceiver are intense bursts of hardcore held together with impeccable drumming and furious riffing. The crowd however seems to be saving their energy as they receive en masse headbanging rather than any significant pit movement.

Converge are arguably the most influential band on the bill as fragments of their sound are found in countless bands. There is a fervent excitement in the air before they take to the stage as many in the crowd are well aware of the sheer carnage the band are capable of creating. Opening with the rarely played Jane Doe from the decisive album of the same name is a bold move but the intensity of the band is perfectly visible as they drop into the breakneck Dark Horse, the breakdown of which sends bodies flying down the front. Although at times their set may stray into more meandering moments it all helps to make the heavy moments sound even crushing. Unfortunately, the sound of The Descendents’ sound checking is audible through several of the band’s songs. although the band treats the interruption with admirable humour. It is only when you see the band in the flesh that you realise that every member is so musically competent they are on almost virtuosic levels. Guitarist Kurt switches between two-handed tapping and bouts of chugging with ease whilst on the drum kit Ben Koller gives a master class in blastbeats and brings his sticks down so hard on the drums he looks like he’s trying to break them open. On Last Light frontman Jacob Bannon gets down to the barrier and those at the front try and claw their way toward him to get a chance to scream into the mic. Closer Concubine may only be a minute long, but within the song is condensed such huge amounts of sheer brutality it is impossible not to have the desire to jump in the pit and start swinging your limbs. As the set ends and the crowd disperse in bewilderment and the primal aggression they have just witnessed, it is only the Swedish metal titans Meshuggah that can claim to have made such an impact.

It is up to California’s Descendents to bring the weekend to a close. Now celebrating over thirty years as a band, I initially had high hopes for the ageing four piece. However, the band puts in a frankly underwhelming set. Playing after Converge and also a case of widespread Sunday night lethargy are contributing factors. It does seem that their angst ridden thirty-or-so year old punk draws a blank with many of the crowd. After all, these are middle-aged men singing about hating your parents and the tribulations of school. Although a dedicated contingent at the front repeatedly expresses their enthusiasm, the majority seem quite content to stand idly by or wander back to their tents. Whatever the reason for the band’s underwhelming set, it means an otherwise brilliant weekend ends with a whimper instead of a bang.

River City Ransom [EP]

River City Ransom are a quintet from York who choose to describe themselves as “unique yet somehow familiar” – and their self-titled EP is evidence that they’re certainly striving towards that goal. At first glance, the music sounds like the same screamo/post-hardcore band you’ve heard so many times before, powerhouse vocals layered over thumping drums and fast-paced guitars. However, the clean vocals that weave through the tracks alongside the screams and some superbly written and played guitar mean they stand out from the crowd more than most – a definite recommendation for anybody who’s a fan of Alexisonfire, or those perhaps looking to upgrade to a heavier brand of A Day To Remember’s “pop-metal” stylings.

The stand-out track on the EP is opener This Day And Age – my personal favourite guitar work on the record and a chorus that’ll leave you singing for days afterwards. Third track Strength From The Sun provides another highlight, guaranteed to have you breaking out your air guitars, and the decision to alternate between screamed & clean vocals is great.

The only possible criticism of the band is a very small one – the EP does contain 5 great tracks, but there’s not much in the way of variety. While changing up sounds doesn’t always have to be a target for a band – U2 seem to have been playing the same song for decades and nobody seems to object – with their well-written lyrics, one wonders what would happen if the band decided to experiment with a slower acoustic track. But this is just an island of potential in an ocean of talent, and the band’s raw singalong power is undeniable (a testimony to the fact that they list the superb The Gaslight Anthem among their influences) and their energy on record is such that you imagine their live shows must be nothing less than spectacular.

RCR recently achieved their first major national airplay courtesy of new single “Great White Buffalo” being showcased on Alex Baker’s Unsigned show on Kerrang! Radio, signalling them as a band to watch out for in the future. Personally, I’ll be one of those keeping close tabs on the 5 piece – ready to say “I Told You So” when they explode.

4.5 out of 5 high fives!