Robyn Writes

Kerrang: Fuelled By Relentless (Skindred, Yashin, Feed The Rhino, With One Last Breath) – The Garage London, 5/6/12

As the Kerrang Awards loom, a loosely linked ‘tour’ with varying qualities of headliners can always be anticipated – 2012 was no different. The first of this short string of gigs was held on a freezing cold, very rainy Jubilee weekend, an hour and a quarter after it was supposed to start. Christ, even Queenie had to be having a better time than this.

Firstly, music aside, we were at the ‘Fuelled by Relentless’ tour, held at the ‘Relentless Garage’…

‘Can I have a Relentless?’

‘Nope, we don’t have any.’

‘What energy drinks do you have?’

‘None. Not Even Coffee. We hate Caffeine. Dirty Dirty Evil Caffeine,’ ( I may have paraphrased).

‘In that case, fine sir, can I have a thimble-full of lemonade?’

‘Yes, yes you can. That’ll be fifty quid.’

True story bro.

The tragedy of caffeine absence aside, myself and my drowned companion eventually made our way through the crowds, rung out our sodden coats and set up camp near the overpriced, understocked bar.

First up were With One Last Breath (3.5/5), a pleasant Asking Alexandria-style outfit, fresh from a triumphant support slot on Of Mice and Men’s most recent tour. Now, I rather enjoy this relatively new genre – the smattering of synths, the inevitable clean nasal-y vocals, some chunky riffs and just enough shouting to piss of your mum, but not enough as to scare off the teenagers. And, on the whole, the boys did good. With some catchy hooks and near pitch-perfect clean vocals, WOLB managed to create an atmosphere that almost crackled with energy. Yet while I enjoyed the majority of their set, sometimes their riffs dwindled and fell into mediocrity. But hey, not every song can be a cracker, right? Despite this, with such a fast-growing young following, they’ll no doubt be heading towards large tours of their own.

To say Feed the Rhino (3.5/5) were the wildcard booking of the night would be a massive understatement. This was hardcore, bearded, angry and ready to flatten you; a musical shovel to the face. The Kent five-piece delivered a blistering slab of aggression to an enthralled and increasingly bruised crowd – the first mini wall of death of the evening was nothing short of a joy to behold. A tip of the cap to all involved. Throughout their set, old material from ‘Mr Red Eye’ blended seamlessly with new tracks from the upcoming ‘The Burning Sons’, cementing FTR’s place as British hardcore stalwarts. While I can’t say they’ll have many crossover fans from the WOLB and Yashin camps, it’s safe to say they definitely won over a chunk of the audience who were otherwise unfamiliar with the genre.

Yashin (4/5) are going places. They have the songs, the musicianship, the showmanship, and most importantly, the hair, to become Kerrang’s new darlings. Firstly, I’d classify myself as a Yashin fan; I’ve seen them multiple times, have the CD, the t-shirt and the overriding sense of age that comes with attending one of their shows (At such gigs, as soon as you pass 18, you’re automatically demoted to drinking at the back of the room with the dads.), and their set was good. Not brilliant, but good. Yashin have damn good songs – catchy, often anthemic, and a lot of fun to listen to. They’re arguably masters of the clean/scream dual vocal approach and have a very tight, practised stage presence. Despite this, they seemed to fall a little flat on the night; clean vocalist Harry Radford seemed to be slow getting on his game, and their choice to play predominantly new, unfamiliar material may not have been the best. While down the front, they had their obligatory die-hard screaming fans, at the back, those of us who fancied a nice drink and a dance were forced to endure the overly-vocal musings of a decidedly anti-Yashin herd of elephants. You’re facing forty, pissed and hungry. We get it. Now shush. Despite their valuable input, the set was incredibly enjoyable – vocalist Kevin Miles unfurled a vocal versatility that just about blasted everyone else’s efforts out of the water; the screams had a great natural tone, and the growls were deep and clear enough to wake Cthulhu from his watery home. The new material, despite a muted reception, sounded catchy as hell, and like so many others, I’m more than keen to hear their upcoming offering ‘We Created a Monster’.

Skindred (5/5). Where to start? I’ve been to hundreds of gigs, seen countless bands, endless musicians and enough gimmicks to finish off Eurovision, but never, ever have I seen a band that consistently delivers like Skindred. Being charismatic, animated and distinctive is one thing, and being note-perfect and skilled is another, but somehow, by some cosmic interference, Skindred were created to embody all such traits. Benji Webbe’s showmanship is almost as notorious as their genre-destroying sound; Ragga-Metal…Punk…stuff. Whatever it is, it works; it’s a sound so distinctive and personal to the Welsh outfit, that to hear anyone else try to imitate it would feel alien at the very least. The set thrown at the Garage was a well-considered mix of old and new- starting with the veritable aural assault of ‘Roots Rock Riot’, and finishing with crowd-favourite ‘Warning’ (where the patented ‘Newport Helicopter’ was out in force). Anthemic tracks such as ‘Trouble’, ‘Nobody’ and ‘Stand for Something’ were delivered with all the ease of seasoned professionals, yet performed with all the passion and intensity of a Rottweiler on crack. As ever, Skindred’s set was intermingled with a plethora of samples and mismatched outros – from recordings of the Imperial March and Beyonce’s ‘Single Ladies’, to brief performances of AC/DC’s ‘Back in Black’ and their own ‘Rudeboy for Life’ (a hugely underrated song that should really grace more setlists). Samples and snippets aside, it is Webbe’s stage presence and empowering speeches that really wrap up the live Skindred experience; through collective gestures and shirt-swinging, the crowd move as one, but through his speech, we all feel as one. His impassioned sentiments of ‘liking what you like, and fuck everyone else’ ring true through the generations and result in a palpable sense of unity and togetherness. Quite often, Webbe takes digs at the audience, layers on sarcasm like concrete, or uses high levels of self deprecation to get laughs from the audience – yet tonight his tack was different. It was positivity from start to finish; no mid-way pauses, no insults and no slurs. To leave this Skindred gig as anything other than sweaty and happy, was nothing short of impossible.

Crash Doubt Festival – The Showroom Lincoln, 3/6/12 [pt 2]

The Sunday started off wet and miserable. On our drive into Lincoln, Kitteh and I stared gloomily out of the windows at the grey skies and thanked the hardcore gods that the venue was indoors. When we were inside, they tried to foist off some Powerade onto us instead of Red Bull. Kitteh was perturbed, I was ecstatic. Full of sugar and a new found zeal, we stumbled upon Towering Heights (3.5/5), a pleasant surprise for the first band of the day. Instead of the screamo-esque sort of thing we were expecting, we were hit by some “Faith No More times Guns And Roses taking a segway via Neil Young and being pretty good” rock and roll. A soulful start to our Sunday, Towering Heights had some great musical talent on show. The bass in particular was magnificent and the vocalist had some powerful lungs on him. It was an odd fit, but one we were very happy with. With a bit more confidence, Towering Heights will be incredible. They Say Fall (2/5) were another story – kiddie hardcore but without the typical screaming vocals. While the band played some highly recognisable but relatively tight melodies, the vocalist wailed over the top like a banshee who’d been impaled with a flaming spear and had just been told their cat had died. Best to be avoided unless they get a new vocalist.

Never Cry Wolf (2.5/5) were yet another of the bro style hardcore bands we stumbled in on (and usually promptly walked away from) throughout the weekend. They played fine but unenthusiastically and failed to grab us, there being nothing particularly individual about their style at all. Brotherhood of the Lake (3.5/5) were a great improvement on this, assaulting our eardrums with their furious yet doomy hardcore. Peppering their set with movie quotes started off cool but got a little bit stale as it happened before every song without any real concept behind it, but ignoring that, they were solid, if requiring a little more movement (personally, we were just a bit upset that the hammered guy from the day before wasn’t pulling some moves in front of them).

Upstairs, Astpai (3.5/5) played some great gruff punk. Bouncy and heartfelt, it was the stuff of Tony Hawk games. While we only caught half a set, they made for a fine interval in between bands on the Big Cheese stage. Then downstairs, Mallory Knox (4.5/5 from Ripper, but a resounding 5/5 from Kitteh) blew us away. A fantastic deviation from the identikit hardcore, Mallory Knox are heartfelt, honest and catchy as hell. Their fine-tuned melodies flooded the venue and were received by an enthusiastic and highly grateful crowd. Woody from POLAR also made a far less threatening appearance, which was nice.

Above Them (5/5) are never, ever anything short of amazing. On Sunday, on the Punktastic stage, it was simply a joy to watch them perform. Above Them have brought out my favourite record so far this year (and if you haven’t got Are We A Danger To Ourselves, go and get it now from Specialist Subject Records, one of the best decisions you’ll ever make) and while only a few songs from that made it into their set, their positively electric performance showed them at the best I’ve ever seen them at. Melodic punk rock at its absolute best.

Departures (3.5/5) were pretty good fun. Good melodic hardcore. A clear Parkway Drive influence coming through, and I’m sure if they were on a bigger stage, they’d be a bit more lively but were a bit too timid to step off and parade in the pit like a few of the other bands. Nevertheless, I’ve heard their album is great and based on their performance, I’ll be bound to check it out. TRC (4.5/5) were possibly our biggest surprise of the weekend. Absolutely crushing hardcore with a rap element to it. Incredible breakdowns too. Kitteh and I were left scratching our heads, holding extremely hot cups of tea, thinking “how have we not heard of these guys before?” Now we have, and we’re happy that TRC are in our lives.

Our final band of the weekend was Random Hand (5/5). Random Hand are brilliant wherever they are. But on the Punktastic stage this weekend, in their own words, they KILLED IT. The best performance of the weekend, Random Hand made us all dance, skank and lose our minds at their simply sublime ska-punk. Ever the masters of banter (“I once tried to reach the French town of Evian on a novelty pedalo but didn’t get there cause I only had an hour and had to take it back”), there were dual circlepits, police sirens, general mayhem and I thought the floor was going to collapse. The lads were on top form. And with that, Kitteh and I decided to be not-so-punk, go home, get a cup of tea and a cheese and tomato pizza and watch The Cowboy Way in our pyjamas because we were absolutely knackered and The Skints are supporting Less Than Jake later this month anyway. But there wasn’t a better way we could have ended the weekend, and we couldn’t have celebrated the end of our degree anywhere better than Crash Doubt.

Crash Doubt Festival – The Showroom Lincoln, 2/6/12 [pt 1]

After a very successful first year, Crash Doubt returned to the deepest and darkest depths of the North (well… at least on the very rainy Sunday) for another go. Hosted in The Showroom in Lincoln, the punk and hardcore fest was a beautiful interruption to the Jubilee weekend.

Before I get into the bands, I have to stress how well organised the whole weekend was. Bands rarely overran or came on late, the stages were laid out well, the merchandise section was fantastically managed and the bar wasn’t too overpriced. The venue, a conference centre combined with a youth centre, was a great space to host in. If only half of the festival-goers spent more time in the venue checking out the bands than out in the car park.

Saturday started out strong. We got to the venue just in time for Climates (3.5/5), whose particular variety of melodic hardcore was good fun. The vocalist, who looked a little bit like Parkway Drive’s Winston McCall, had a great tone to his voice and the band as a whole sounded brilliant for one of the first on. Following them up on the Time Will Tell stage were Fair Do’s (3/5), a local Lincoln pop-punk band. Tinged with posicore, they were fun and bouncy but they wore all their influences on their sleeves. Nevertheless, with their sense of fun and a little more development, they should be going places. Up on the Punktastic stage, Tim Van Tol (3.5/5) regaled us all with his solo folk punk. Reminiscent of sea shanties at times, some gruff and soulful acoustic fare did everyone some good (and Kitteh thought he looked a bit like Varg from Burzum).

Watch Commander (2/5) were fairly boring melodic punk rock – their songs had promise but failed to hit the mark. However, Attack! Vipers! (5/5) were nothing short of incredible. One of the most impressive hardcore bands coming out of the UK right now, their performance was intense, exciting and completely involving. If Attack! Vipers! play near you, don’t ever miss them. Moral Dilemma (2.5/5) weren’t really to my taste – abrasive punk rock that sounded all the same. It’s difficult to write good punk in the old style these days and while their overall performance was reasonably solid, I still found their set dull. Bangers (4/5) are proof that musical evolution often wins out and their gruff punk anthems rang out loud and clear on the Punktastic stage. There were awesome singalongs, sweet hooks and some actually very cleverly written instrumental sections. You can still be a musician in a punk band; Bangers will show you how.

Back downstairs on the Big Cheese stage, The Smoking Hearts (4/5), along with a guy who was either so wasted or on some variety of pills, showed us all how to party. Admittedly, they played fairly standard hardcore stuff – nothing new, but it was tight and they were batshit insane. Lots of jumping, some rolling around and potentially broken elbows – that’s how it should be done. Demoraliser (1/5) clearly didn’t observe how The Smoking Hearts did it and were truly the first of a few identikit hardcore bands we managed to stumble upon. They may have been local heroes but their breakdowns were so subpar, the vocals had no tone to them whatsoever and they sounded like a Terror ripoff without any of the brutality. Hang The Bastard (4/5) are how you should do hardcore, in comparison – terrifyingly. There are no other words. And yet the man in the khaki balaclava wasn’t the most intimidating thing all weekend. That accolade belongs to Woody from POLAR (4.5/5). While POLAR’s set was impressive, it was distracting to see a guy who looks like he has rabies push a crowd around because “if [you] don’t move, [I’ll] fucking move you”. Highly counter-productive to crowd involvement, but nonetheless, a stellar performance from one of the UK’s most exciting new bands. Heights (3.5/5) struggled to follow suit but their crowd involvement was certainly better. Their sound was less intense and more dirgey – the doom influences in their music rang loud and clear but still remained full of desperation.

And we finished off the night with No Trigger (3/5). I’ve been waiting to see No Trigger for a while, ever since I was bowled over by Canyoneer. To this day, it’s one of my favourite records. But I found No Trigger to be a bit… well, flat. There was plenty of enthusiasm but it just felt like there was something lacking. Might have been a levels thing, might have been an end of tour fatigue, but it just didn’t ring true. It didn’t end my night on a total downer though because they played Owner Operator and that put a fairly big smile on my face.

So, Saturday was pretty damn sweet. Sunday’s writeup to follow!

Andrew WK – HMV Forum London, 12/4/12

Ten years since’ I Get Wet’ first assaulted our eardrums. Ten whole years. It seems like only yesterday that Andrew WK first graced our screens and stereos ubiquitously and relentlessly with ‘Party Hard’. To celebrate, he’s going on a worldwide non-stop party, playing the entirety of ‘I Get Wet’, and stopped by the UK for three dates. TwoBeatsOff made the trip down to the HMV Forum in London to finally catch one of our heroes.

Hawk Eyes were the first support of the night. A great young British talent, Hawk Eyes certainly captured the audience right from the start. While they’re not necessarily bringing anything shockingly new to the table, their performance was solid and their own brand of rock and roll is certainly captivating enough. A great start to the evening, we can’t wait to hear a little bit more from Hawk Eyes. The brilliantly named Turbowolf carried on the predator theme with a lot of bad Hawaiian shirt all up on that stage. Their set started off quite well with some light hearted party rock but strayed into slightly doomier, slightly more rubbish territory. We also had no idea what they were singing about and presumed wizards. Indeed, I’m all about more wizard representation in popular music. They did a cracking cover of Jefferson Airplane’s ‘Somebody To Love’ though and set us up nicely for the party god in question.

It really is strange to think that ‘I Get Wet’ was ten years ago when Andrew WK doesn’t seem to have aged at all. Looking just as ready to party as he did in the video for ‘Party Hard’, he barrelled onto the stage to break straight into ‘It’s Time To Party’. From the opening bars, the entire venue went wild, from the front right back to the merch table. It’s safe to say that the band know how to party as well – I’ve never seen a bunch of people so elated to be playing to such a crowd. It wouldn’t be hard to describe the ‘I Get Wet’ half of the set as utterly perfect. Well, possibly excepting Andrew’s weird guitar solo before they did ‘She Is Beautiful’, but his guitar was shaped like a pizza and had his face printed on it several times. He can be forgiven. The energy was high for the whole album set, with multiple stage invasions (crowdsurfing Banana Henry was my favourite) and shenanigans beyond your wildest dreams. Forget New York City, London Town is where the party’s at!

The encore, featuring a lot of songs from his second album, didn’t go down quite as well. It’s not to say that Andrew and his band weren’t still on form, but ‘The Wolf’ went largely under the radar in the UK and a lot of people took to the bar. I was waiting for one of the Japanese covers, but I think that was just me. Nevertheless, Andrew’s totally unexpected piano solo because-he-could was spectacular. Many people forget that he’s actually a pretty talented musician (as was proven by his piano only album, ’55 Cadillac’) and for those still with us, it was awesome. Because not just anyone could get away with that. Nor could just anyone get away with the motivational speeches that Andrew is prone to giving in between songs. From anyone else, it would have sounded like a cheesy attempt to get the audience on side, but for Andrew effing WK to tell you that the party feeling of that night will last for days, and that music is the most uplifting thing of all… You’d be a goddamn fool not to believe him. A new song, ‘Headbang’ was wheeled out for us and got everyone excited again, just before the superb finale that was ‘We Want Fun’. There literally must have been sixty, seventy people up on that stage giving it all they had. And that’s what it’s all about, right? One great night.

Many people have said, and will continue to say, that one cannot write songs about partying alone. The other night in London will prove those people the hell wrong. Because Andrew WK is here to stay, and he is here to party hard.

We Are Fiction – The Vault Rugby, 13/4/12

The Vault in Rugby is the kind of venue that every town needs; a well-stocked bar, snazzy decor and a liberal attitude to young gig goers (Seriously, a ‘12+’ show, I forgot they existed). The whole venue had a familiar, local feel about it while still remaining welcoming to out-of-towners such as myself. While such a comment may seem trivial and unimportant, believe me, I’ve been to enough back-water ‘local’ gigs to know what ‘unwelcome’ and ‘suspicion’ mean. And at three quid for entry, the evening might well have been the best value these kids will see for a long time.

Up first were bright, shouty young upstarts ‘Stop Fontaine’. While I thought being familiar with their previous work in ‘Lavondyss’ would give me a good idea of what to expect, I couldn’t be more wrong. With one guitarist down and the proclamation that tonight’s performance was only their second gig as a band, they blew all expectations out of the water and punched a metaphorical hole through the roof. Appearances can be deceiving, and I certainly didn’t expect to see a wirey ‘what-a-nice-haircut-I-bet-your-mother’s-proud’ vocalist throw himself across the stage with all the self control of Brian Harvey at a potato harvest. Neither did I expect his screams to be so powerful and vitriolic that they held my attention even through the inevitable teenage gang-bang that was happening on the sofas to my left. With riffs so meaty they’d make a vegetarian cry and a drummer so solid you’d fear he’d fall through the floor, they certainly made a lasting impression on all who saw them. With a quirky stage presence and palpable energy to their performance, they’re definitely one to watch.

The main support for the We Are Fiction tour, and next on The Vault’s mini-stage were Woking’s finest ‘Palm Reader’.  From start to finish, Palm Reader throw out a full-on hardcore assault; heavy and frenzied enough to tear your face clean off, but so mesmerising that you can’t help but get involved. More and more hardcore bands these days are leaving all physical exertion to the vocalist, and all other musicians tend to take a back-seat; slumping or crouching with their instruments, purposefully ignoring the presence of an audience. Thankfully, Palm Reader are the absolute antithesis of such a setup. With more energy than a toddler after a pint of Ribena and less spacial awareness than a fat lass in a lift (I was lucky enough to get to a few gigs on this tour, and the chances of a face to guitar-neck union were frighteningly high throughout), their stage presence is hard to rival. They’re heavy, they’re passionate and they’re a little bit mad. If you have any interest in punk, or even if you have any sense at all, I implore you to get online or get to a show and pick up their EP.

They say it’s always incredibly hard to review one of your favourite bands, as all objectivity is automatically removed, but sod it. We Are Fiction are a phenomenal live act, and you should get your arse in gear and head down to a show as fast as your tiny legs can carry you. The Peterborough five-piece have been destroying venues since 2009 and just about tore Rugby a new one. With a solid set of old EP material, painfully catchy new songs and inevitable crowd pleasers, WAF did nothing more than blow everyone away. Peddling their brand of catchy Alexisonfire-inspired/post-hardcore, they’re the sort of band that are impossible not to like. Their musicianship is enviable, their lyrics were made to adorn a thousand script tattoos and they take their music seriously. While they’re quickly becoming synonymous with heavy partying and Asda’s finest ‘Mansion House’,(It’s a …beverage that’s somewhere between sherry and despair, and the WAF lads seem to thrive on the stuff!), they carefully craft their music into something important and memorable. They don’t drown in sentimentality and they don’t crush their brains under the weight of too many breakdowns. Through their entire set, the venue was set alive with energy- whether through clumsy mosh-pits, sweaty screams, or flying bassists (followed by a falling and then painfully sprawling bassists), WAF’s short set could easily feel like your own little Woodstock. Their entire set was incredibly well-structured; with new material such as ‘Mansion House’ and ‘Earth Medicine’ sitting well against older more aggressive works as ‘Bitch’(my personal favourite) and ‘Desire Lines’, there was something for old fans and new alike. As ever, the set culminated in crowd-favourite ‘Sail On’, where vocalist Phil was found throwing himself into the crowd (which judging from the age-range, might have got him put on some sort of register), quite comfortably giving everyone present a masterclass in frontmanship.

Watching We Are Fiction is like watching the creation of a beautiful monster, and its only a matter of time until these venues are too small to contain it. With a new album due out this year (although their eta’s have been liberal at best!), We Are Fiction are becoming one of the brightest lights in the UK music scene. Go see them before they go stratospheric.