Robyn Writes

Live: Baby Godzilla/The Callout/Forever Grace, The Firefly Worcester, 5/9/13

Well then. Three bands. Quid a band. One of these bands currently ripping it right up in the music press as I type this. A school night fest of crunk, melodic punk and shittery above a pub in the Midlands. Let us begin.

Youth. It’s a wonderful thing to behold. The wilful disregard of risk and convention. The unassailable confidence. The unfettered exhuberance. With an apparent average age of about fourteen Worcester’s very own Forever Grace have youth spraying wildly out of every orifice. They also sound a lot like Slayer circa Reign in Blood. However, they both clearly know this – and do not give a single wet little shit. Cranking out a brand of filthy metallic hardcore that is getting rather big right now, this was an impressively lean and pokey mix of post-Frank Carter Gallows, Pariso and some of that Scandinavian stuff that does the rounds. All this delivered by five edgier versions of the geek who won X Factor last year. Tattoos, skinny jeans, quiffs – these boys looked the part. And given the spark in the eye and the spring in their step as they nailed through their set, they certainly don’t lack for self-belief or ambition. Congested market right now lads – but power to your elbow.

This band also brought their crew. At times reminiscent of some kind of demented 70s disco dance off gone wrong – or a pack of drunken tramps rabidly fighting with the invisible man – their fanboys took it in turns to enthusiastically flail and romp around in the general area between the drum kit and the audience with real vim and vigour. The band joined in too. This was spectator moshing at its best. Ultimately this is what this kind of music is all about, the kids having their moment and getting stuff out of their system – and almost bought a tear to the eye. You windmill on boys. Just mind you don’t smack the civilians.

Band two. The Callout. Melodic punk edging right into emo – soaring harmonic vocals, emotional content and some sweet hooks. I understand that this three-piece have paid their dues, playing as a unit for some years – and it shows. With heavy shades of Hot Water Music and The Gaslight Anthem, the sound was crisp and style distinctly American. There was even a note perfect cover of what I think was a 5ive song – in the vein of the kitsch cover of Rush Hour by Joyrider all those years ago – which they basically pulled off.  A lot of this was engaging stuff – but did drift a little now and again. As it happened this was probably a good thing for all involved – a lull before the storm – given what followed.

Band three. Baby Godzilla. On the back of airplay on the niche shows on national radio, and playing their first date on a national tour schedule that will see them supporting Black Spiders and Hawk Eyes, this was expected to be good. What it was – and I use this after very careful consideration – was utter and complete fucking chaos.

Musically, Baby Godzilla are a kind of quirky cross between the Dillinger Escape Plan and the Computers. Three hundred mile an hour skinny-jeaned rock and roll punk interspersed with freaky time signature noodlery – and a whole lotta screaming. Not that this particularly comes across live – there was the occasional recognisable tune and there was a part where they all put their instruments down and walked around rhythmically shouting. But catchy harmonies aren’t really what this band are about.  This was about sonic assault. It wasn’t about the crowd moshing either. Further windmilling by Forever Grace’s mutant urban dance crew was rapidly shut down as these sweaty lunatics from Nottingham basically turned the tables and invaded the crowd.

Two songs in and there were beardy boys in vests causing mayhem at the back of the room: rearranging and clambering all over the furniture, getting nose to nose with the punters – and generally freaking out like chimpanzees having a breakdown. All to the backdrop of an ungodly, feral noise. There were cables tangled in the light fittings. There was a point when one of them almost fell out the window. There was someone flat out on the bar wailing like a banshee. The Callout guys – perhaps wisely – hid out on the balcony. Guitars were handed to random people to fiddle with or played with the teeth or dry humped against the wall (you got the full Hendrix, people). If as is likely they get signed to a major label – they’ve just released a single on Venn Records, the rebooted Gallows’ current vehicle – then that major label better be prepared to pay for new guitars every show. You get the distinct impression that the only thing stopping this lot torching or smashing theirs into the amps was the cost.

And so. Their main set ended with someone rolling around the middle of the floor in a puddle of sweat, sobbing; the encore ended with the bassist wildly smacking the drums like my two year old daughter, having first dragged the kit right in amongst the audience – with the lad with the microphone screaming himself hoarse about whores.

You saw it here first.

Fucking mental.

Live: Empire/Planecrasher/Layers – The Firefly, Worcester, 1/8/13

So. A baking hot school night in a provincial city in middle England. Three stories up above a side street and behind a sprawling new Asda… we have some bands. Three sweaty examples of the best the Midlands scene has to offer. And at £3 in – that’s a whole quid a band -seriously, what’s not to love?

First up – Empire. Billed as Faith No More does hardcore, these boys were bright as you like. A simple but highly effective riff-heavy sound of drums, bass and lead providing a rock solid platform for the hugely, hugely impressive vocal range of their charismatic and snake-hipped front man. And yep, this boy has a genuine touch of a young Mike Patton in manner and delivery. These guys are maybe what you might call post-emo: crystal clear vocals, but with a scuzzier feel to their melodic sound than the Alkaline Trio-s of this world. For sake of comparison, there isn’t quite the nails-hard edge here that you find, say, in Mr P’s works peri or post Faith No More – and no down low screaming from the legendary crouch… But then, who wants to rehash the trademark stage antics of a man who when given his own free artistic rein does songs about sex with food (Mr Bungle – google it, people). In all, Empire work up a really interesting sound, with stacks of potential – and the vocalist in particular deserves more superlatives than I can give him here. A couple of their tracks had a groove that kind of got right down into your pelvis, and I believe you can find the video to one of these – ‘Blackheart’ – on that facetube right now. Go see it and give these good people your support.

Now. Planecrasher. Sounding initially like a wall of ultra-heavy stoner, but with way more spark and crank than than this moniker implies – this was utterly engaging and unashamed carnage. Loud as sweet merry fuck, with said wall of noise decorated with twiddly guitar detailing straight out of Gregg Ginn’s SCT playbook and pure filth basslines straight out of Trouser Minnow-era Rapeman – Hereford’s Planecrasher are aptly named. This was weapons-grade chugging that could take out a fucking airbus. These guys obviously know their hardcore history (the influences of the band were plain to see from the bassist’s Shellac T-shirt, which was apparently gifted by the very hand of the speccy fruitcake Albini himself) – and this was a fair joyous fusion of Big Black, Iron Monkey, Black Flag and Kyuss. Think a waaay gnarlier QOTSA and you won’t be far off the mark. However. Josh Homme and friends are damp as a wet Christmas live – not so these fellows. The towering brute on lead guitar and vocals was obviously the alpha monkey of the group, but the ball of dreddlocks on the four string was pretty much the star of the show, totally going off to his dirty, dirty music. Point of note is that they even drove the uber-geek front man from Fights and Fires away from the front of the stage, eventually. It was either the aural onslaught, or he needed a pee. Maybe the latter.

A few words about the drummer, too. Every stick man should be slightly off his nut. Goes with the job description. And the nuttier they are the harder they play. And in my book, he (or she) can never play too hard. And the wiry little Iggy-a-like in this band played like he hated that shaky kit more than the man who had just killed his cat. Brutal.

Last on – Layers. These cheeky chappies really look the part. A very modern, good-looking bunch of lads – including the mega-bearded chrome dome in the Billy Talent T-shirt on lead, who had a style and stage presence evident in the face of tech adversity he had to gamely deal with. Bouncy and energetic as hell and no shortage of poke – if they’d been able to get into their stride fully this band would probably have taken the roof off. The pool of hip kids they had clustered around the stage were visibly bursting to hear them play, and they coped with the tech difficulties that interrupted the set very well indeed – launching right back into it with vigour and professionalism once the various guitar issues got sorted. Their sound is decidedly “now” – taking influences from hardcore and pop punk, even some pure metal – and mixing it freely with no mind to genre or orthodoxy – with soul and R&B. Plan B meets Let Live? That’d actually be a disservice – mainly because the geezer that helped butcher the Sweeney remake hasn’t got an ounce of the spunky freshness of the vocalist in this outfit – and nowhere near his soaring, gospel-quality delivery. You’ll make good pros gentlemen, if all the internet whispers about you come to fruition. Ones to watch indeed.

And finally… just a shout out to the people behind these gigs too. Every town dreams of having its own scene. Well, any town with self-awareness and personality. And through the efforts of a local crew of promoters (Surprise Attacks) there may, just may, be the first sparks of one starting here. With things apparently mobilising behind the scenes, a stable of bands representing for the local area (Fights and Fires and Thirty Six Strategies not least), and some fairly awesome gigs – Crucial Section, Baby Godzilla, HDQ – booked at this same venue (the Firefly) over the Autumn, here’s hoping that the Wu really is on the rise. Who knows. Or dares to dream.

4.5 out of 5 high fives!

Circle Takes The Square – Camden Underworld, 31/7/13

Hot on the heels of surprise release Consanguinity, Pariso’s set is rammed with storming new tracks plus a few of their older and deftly speedier material.  Despite their best efforts and plenty of perspiration from frontman Mario, the local band are met with a stoically static crowd that refuse to budge despite a torrent of riffs that should indeed lay waste to the room but are instead responded to with warm applause.

Full Of Hell are an altogether darker prospect.  Desolate and putrid, their version of hardcore takes the genre into some of the deepest depths of aural depravity.  A two minute blast of furious breakneck punk is followed by coruscating feedback: like sandpaper to the ears.  Vocals flit between dry-retching and wicked gurgles, the possessed frontman’s intense and disconcerting glare slowly surveying the room with nothing less than abhorrence for everyone within its stale confines.  Those down at the front are eager to react with that oh-so-familiar violent physicality, repeatedly denied by a band who seems to take much pleasure in descending into extended bouts of white noise.  A My Bloody Valentine style noise holocaust ends the decrepit proceedings, glitches from tortured circuitry adding to a pulsating bout of terrifying sound.  It’s decidedly unhinging- sending everyone in the room into a state of trance, feedback tearing at the ears and low end transferring tremors through everyone’s innards.  Surely amongst the most uncompromising and unsettling thirty minutes of grating music you’re ever likely to witness.

With many propping up the bar or merch stall, Code Orange Kids start their set to a rather sparse room. Unperturbed, they dive headfirst into their savage take on metallic hardcore, their bodies soon lurching with instruments thrashed around, taking the full brunt of each member’s furious display.  A potent momentum is soon built, the energy of both the band and a swelling crowd on an upward trajectory, physically manifesting in a pit that drags in more onlookers with each crushing chug, letting loose their ritualized gestures of violent abandon.  Guitarist Becca delivers her guttural banshee howls through a wall of sweat-ridden hair as the boys in the band commence the ritual of stripping themselves of inhibiting garments. ‘Liars///Trudge’ is one half savage dirge, the other an atmospheric foray into inner turmoil with Becca swapping her howls for hushed singing and allowing the pit dwellers to catch their breath as the rest of the Underworld stares in awe.  At the final track of set the band have whipped up an electric tension within the room, those at the front form a heap of flailing limbs as more reserved onlookers can’t help but headbang in approval.  As the zenith of intensity is reach the impossibly young four-piece pull one of the oldest tricks in the book: leave the crowd hungry with an abrupt and unannounced finish.  A mass of impassioned screams for encore go unanswered.

Tonight’s headliners Circle Take The Square return to the damp squalor of the Underworld after a nine year absence, taking to the stage under some simple but effective atmospheric lighting, emitting a cold beam onto each individual member.  The least visceral of the evening’s acts, Circle Takes The Square’s are an incredibly polished live entity- as to the demands of their progressive and intricate music where subtleties and dynamics need to be as palpable as possible to be affecting.  Tonight though, the band’s progressions become its undoing with their obtusely extended song lengths and overly long set time verging on over-indulgence.  Circle Takes The Square seem to be the antithesis of the uncompromising adrenaline-inducing abrasion that came before- their measured approach and instrumental digressions proving too much for the casual listener which, judging by the steady trickle of people heading for an early exit, makes up a sizeable portion of the crowd.  A gaggle of hardcore fans lap up the old ‘screamo’ songs and guitarist Drew’s schizophrenic preacher on barbiturates vocal style.  The band’s insistence playing exclusively new material for the first portion of their set may contribute to their lack of impact- especially as an eager gaggle down the front lap up songs from 2004’s As The Roots Undo. By the time they leave the stage the Underworld is only half full.  Their performance may be flawless but it lacks the grit and feral intensity that many in the crowd yearn for.

There is little doubt that the show is stolen by those plucky young Code Orange Kids, the only band who leave the crowd ravenous and baying to be brutalised further.  They prove themselves to be a vital prospect, and along with Full Of Hell’s hollocaustal tyranny they provoke a disconcerting emotional response that makes you feel alive, leaving Circle Takes The Square looking rather meek in comparison.

Shout out – Surprise Attacks in Worcester tomorrow!

Surprise Attacks – Fine purveyors of Punk and Noise to the Big Bad Wu since May 2013 – are pleased to bring you the third of sonic excellence this Thursday, 1st August at the Firefly, Lowesmoor, Worcester… All the details on Facebook.

An epic trio of new bands spanning the length of the Midlands.
LAYERS bring their brand of soulful, emo-influenced rockin’ hardcore down the M5 from Brum, ahead of their debut EP release and on the back of much positive press attention for their energetic live shows. Ay it!
PLANECRASHER bring their Black Flag/Hives meets Albini-influenced riffage over the border from Herefordshire. Wear ear plugs.
EMPIRE (UK) head the other direction up the M5 from Chelters with a wild live show like Faith No More gone hardcore. Tidy!

The usual recession busting £3 entry – and parking’s universally free after 8 too.

Looking further ahead, acts already confirmed include:
Sept 5th – Baby Godzilla (Nottingham) / The Callout (Redditch) / TBC
Sept 25th – Crucial Section (Japan) / Geriatric Unit (Ex Heresy) / King Of Pigs
The Crucial Section gig alone is enough to make any discerning hardcore fan wet themselves with anticipation. Come join us.

Fights and Fires / Thirty Six Strategies / The Best Revenge – Firefly, Worcester, 30/5/13

So. This gig. Three “hardcore” bands two storeys up above a moderately scummy side street in an inoffensive county town in the Midlands. On a school night. Grateful for it happening – not much happens in Worcester. But expectations were not excessive. By way of context, the venue – the Firefly – is a three-storey Georgian pile with a maze of rooms, a competition-class range of draft beers and a quirky top floor gig space like some kind of stylish boutique drawing room. The place does occasional open mic nights and puts on the odd band – but nothing regular or high visibility. The place keeps a fairly low profile – no website, minimal publicity outside its own walls, even their facetube page is a bit undercooked – but has the makings of an absolute gem of a venue. Seriously. And the place was, to be fair, packed out. £3 – Three quid in. Bargain. Quid a band. Not going to argue with that. And so. What evening’s entertainment did you get for this princely sum?

First on – The Best Revenge. Spunky skate punk. Coulda been watching Snuff or Jailcell Recipes in May 1991 at JB’s in Dudley with a copy of RAD magazine in the pocket of my Skull Skates pants. In my book, that’s a good thing. A very good thing. Proof of the strength of the formula that it still sounds as good and bright now as it ever did. Nice.

Next – Thirty Six Strategies. Melodic female-fronted hardcore. Now. Some proper heavy hitters with serious alt and punk pedigree in here – not least the fairly legendary punk vet Ian Glasper (google him and you’ll see what I mean). Female Vocalist exactly as it says on the promo material – Debbie Harry, but maybe a touch of the Shirley Manson. Great, great voice, great look, professional strength songs – although maybe could do with moving around a bit more. But what do I know. This can look undignified. I remember seeing a sweaty Brody Dalle over-enthusiastically rocking out to her music at the old Birmingham Academy (nee Hummingbird) some years back, and it was all a little embarrassing. In any case there’s a lot of the high-end proto-emo Dischord / Dag Nasty about this band. Rocking out just wouldn’t go. Leave that for Paramore or that shocking vehicle for that chick out of Gossip Girl. This band only formed last year, and are already getting coverage in the national music press – and are apparently supporting the venerable (and downright glorious) nomeansno when they play London in a week or two. And very, very damn good luck to them indeed.

And finally – headline act. Fights and Fires. Never heard of this lot before. Only afterwards did it click that all the merch on sale was theirs… Four chirpy kids in matching shirts and a bit of a speccy geek up front. Nice line in banter. Thinking this’ll be breezy pop punk at best. Then the geek made a noise. A righteous, proper hardcore noise.

Now. Bend me over, smack my arse and call me fucking Gabriel. I was not expecting THAT.

Energetic, tight as you like and with a sound like Trash Talk at their most melodic, with very Bronx-style vocals… and nothing wrong with that (damn… that geek, he’s good). Whilst the influences are undeniable, these boys have a real distinctive sound of their own – a line in heavy ultra-chugging breakdowns that the kids went wild for and that in its rock and roll-ishness is very now indeed.

Despite knowing a hell of a lot better I have to report that I found myself being sucked in to the moment and went a bit feral. And spent a good part of the remaining evening running around with teenaged boys on my head. Which they seemed to appreciate, anyway. That I found myself doing this with half of the previous band on (Thirty Six Strategies) – I definitely had my head in the bassist’s armpit, I remember that – all added to the experience. Awesome. The remarkable thing is that this band (Fights and Fires) have been going for 5 years and have a serious back catalogue. A back catalogue that you can pick up on Bandcamp in ten minutes for less than a packet and a half of fags – go on. Do it. They deserve you.

Apparently too they play all over Europe. Relentlessly. They are probably one our main current punk exports to the Eurozone. But they exist entirely beneath the surface in the town where they all grew up and (I guess) still live. That’s right. They and in fact all three bands are from this self-same, nondescript county town… Worcester. It also turns out – thanks to the magic of the interweb – that the record label they are signed to, Lockjaw Records also originated in… Worcester [editor’s note – while Lockjaw certainly began in Worcester, the label was taken into new ownership last year and is currently prospering elsewhere in the West Midlands].

It’s not a big place. Great place to bring up kids. Good amenities. Good motorway access to the rest of the country. Nice people, nice countryside. Gave the world Elgar. But thought to have absolutely no underground music scene. Nigel Kennedy used to live out in Malvern next door to an old colleague of mine. But that’s about the length of it. You’re pretty much right off the beaten touring track – anyone heading for this neck of the woods either goes to Birmingham or Bristol. So unless you like tribute bands, blues and harmless acoustic, received wisdom was: nothing happening. If this unexpected triple-headed act of smashing it was anything to go by, you never know whether something just might.

I understand that this is planned to be a monthly thing – last Thursday of the month. Next one is apparently going to be mathcore. MATHCORE? In this town? Needless to say, I’m going. Will let you know how it goes.