Robyn Writes

Radstock Festival 2013 – O2 Academy Liverpool, 30/3/13

On what was a rare sunny day in Liverpool, a brand new indoor music festival called Radstock was launched, seeing 24 bands playing across three stages in two rooms from 1pm to 11pm. With free Monster energy drinks handed out to the queue, 13 year old emo girls olds bouncing off the walls with excitement and slightly creepy older men watching them as they queue for a day long festival of rock, metal and punk; spring officially kicked into life.

The first band on the Big Deal Clothing stage came in the form of Gnarwolves. The set burst into life with a fast punk drumbeat, clean but shouted lyrics and a rumbling bassline, not to mention a few riffs here and there. There were a lot of abrupt changes of pace to fit the punk-esque style, but there were also some more pop-punk moments and even a slower softer song “because it was early in the day”. Apparently it was the earliest a band has played at the venue; whether or not that’s a compliment to the band is another matter entirely, but Gnarwolves delivered a strong set to warm up the assembling crowd.

Next up and first on the larger Monster Energy stage were Natives, injecting energy into the room with their brand of poppy, fist pumping, and sing-along rock. Thriving off crowd participation, Natives brought a thumping rock attitude with the catchy element of pop music. Respect where it’s due, this got the crowd more involved, seeing everybody kneeling down and jumping up for the chorus of the second song, not something you are used to seeing at 2 in the afternoon. A lot of the songs were very similar, in structure and deliverance, but that said, Natives clearly found a song-writing formula that worked for them and stuck with it, seemingly to the pleasure of the cheering crowd.

Drive By Night provided guitar dominated alt-rock, filled with rhythmic riffs, clean vocals and nice harmonies. It may have been their first ever show together as a band, but they proved that they are full of potential and have obvious technical ability, they were just lacking that something extra. There were no obvious faults to pick out, with the songs or their live performance; they just seemed to be lacking the extra ‘oomph’ that could make them a fans’ favourite.

Then, and controversially to some, I skipped the chance of seeing Sonic Boom Six to see Carcer City, recommended by a friend, on the Hardtimes stage. I wasn’t disappointed. With the first sign of rough vocals and a loud breakdown to bring the song in, the Carcer City show also saw the first pits of the day. Declaring themselves as ‘scouse metal’, the lead singer, Patrick Pinion, said that they were “here to bring the heavy”, and they truly brought it. Showing their diversity they also found a place for softer vocals and a more technical rhythmic song, before bringing back the crunching breakdowns with force and a solid drum dominated instrumental to round things off.

Back to the main room and Tantrum to Blind were the next band to play, with the first and only female lead singer of the day (that I saw any way), whose high-register vocals were more reminiscent of Versaemerge than Halestorm. But a lot of energy and a good stage presence came from the band who seemed used to handling the crowd.

Red Jumpsuit Apparatus (RJSA) then lit up the main stage with a pitch perfect ‘False Pretence’, as the crowd started to grow and get progressively more involved. They delivered exactly the performance you’d expect from an experienced band with years on the circuit under their belt. Throughout the short set there was a great vocal performance and a raging guitar solo in ‘In Fate’s Hands’. The set was just long enough for all of the classics and a couple off the new record too, before fans’ favourite ‘Facedown’ rounded off the set with the crowd bouncing and a sense of nostalgia, since it was one of the songs that first got me listening to ‘real music’ as a young whipper snapper.

Light You Up were unfortunate to be sandwiched between RJSA and Yashin, receiving a lot less attention from the dispersing crowd than they deserved. Songs like ‘Without You Here’ crashed through with progressive riffs and pounding drums, keeping a lively tempo and showing that Light you Up deserved to be more than an interlude between bands on the mainstage.

By the time Yashin opened with a ferocious start, the biggest crowd of the night had assembled for breakdowns and head-banging aplenty. Despite the fact that they seem to pay as much attention to their scene hairstyles as their music, Yashin’s saving grace is that it is still fucking good music and bloody well performed live too. They showed the added bonus of two vocalists, one riling the crowd up as the other sings/screams, and the overall band chemistry and stage presence saw the teenage girls (and boys) in the crowd swoon. Those of us not falling in love with their emo/scene image could still appreciate Harry’s melodic and Kevin’s demonic vocals, the riffs ripping through each and every song and the drumbeat that feels like an earthquake resonating through the room. The crowd was kept glued to the main stage, with circle pits, walls of death and even spinning on the spot (no, really,) to keep the set fresh and interesting. Even Harry bringing his mum out on stage mid-song (a slower song, don’t worry) after she’d flown in for the show was a nice touch and received a big cheer. The first signs of crowd surfing from fans and band members alike showed that the set was a job well done and that the gauntlet had been thrown down for the later bands to follow.

The boys from Don Broco were next on the mainstage, opening with ‘Priorities’ and showcasing the walk, which is essentially synchronised marching/dancing on the spot by the vocalist, guitarist and bassist. A lot of energy was showcased by the band and the crowd, with the lads bouncing around the stage, talking to the crowd and making fans do push-ups in the middle of the floor before a wall of death. They even took time out to return a lost passport that had been handed in, but in classic Don Broco style they had to make a few jokes in doing it. Musically the distinctive vocals stand out as much live as on the record, with the funky base another stand out feature and a lot of sing-along opportunities.

Blitz Kids then came out onto the smaller balcony stage, bouncing and jumping, showing off riffs and a sweetly done guitar solo. Overall they boasted a very rhythmic sound, a show full of energy, and subtle changes in tempo helped to build up songs to a climax and slow them down in again in the verses. However a lot of the set was spoilt to some degree by the We Are The Ocean crew testing the equipment on the other stage, distracting the crowd and meaning “check, check, check,” ran over some of BK’s songs.

When WATO came on they delivered a strong set, but definitely too a tiring crowd. Despite a good mix of old and new, fast and slow songs, there were no pits or crowd-surfing. Perhaps WATO just aren’t as loved in Liverpool, or despite the strong riffs, mix of powerful live vocals and rock/pop-punk drums, maybe everyone was just getting tired?

There were more teething problems later as technical difficulties meant Bury Tomorrow were late onto the Hardtimes stage, cutting more into The Blackout’s headline show on the Monster Energy stage. When they finally managed to get on stage the lads were all very apologetic, promising a speedy and powerful set. This was a promise they lived up to with a heavy set and small but brutal pits. As I enjoyed taking part in most of the pits the whole set flew by in a haze, the three song combination of ‘Sceptres-Redeemer-Waxed Wings’ pumped the room with energy, fuelling some of the craziest pits and loudest cheers the stage must have seen all year, never mind all day. There was even time for the band to convey messages of being comfortable with and happy about who you are, I vaguely remember hearing “it’s okay to like Bieber, hey, JB has a couple of good songs”; but it was business as usual as the set ended with a blood-boiling rendition of ‘Royal Blood’.

Because of the overrun, I was very late to The Blackout, but arrived just in time for an onstage marriage proposal (she said yes, whoever they both were). However, I have been reliably informed that they were the regular cheeky chappies we are all used to, telling the crowd they’re shit, calling themselves pricks and even trying to make the fans face the back of the room for one song. All in all, standard material from The Blackout.

It was only the first Radstock Festival, but it was truly a classic. If this can be recreated again then it promises many more happy years of metal, rock and punk in Liverpool.

The Rise Of The Pre-Order Bundle

I love stuff. Things. Merchandise. Tat. When Bring Me The Horizon decided to make dick shaped silly bands available on their last tour, I was one of the first to the merch desk, cash in hand, close to wailing ‘Fine sir, my life would be enriched with the purchase of overpriced elastic bands that I’ll never open and ultimately leave in a drawer somewhere!’. When My Passion released a delightfully lurid, gold plastic mac for their golden tour, I too decided that I’d spiral into a pit of depression should I not dress myself in a massive metallic bin bag. But my money-scattering doesn’t end with novelty rubbish.

I go to a lot of gigs, I binge, I feel guilty, but then I want more.  It began innocently enough. When I was twelve, I somehow persuaded my mother to take me halfway across the country to see Meatloaf. Naturally, I wanted to get a t-shirt to commemorate the gig, to show my friends how much I loved that chubby warbler (hey, I doubt your first ‘proper gig’ was much cooler). Stupidly and relentlessly, I carried on with this perceived necessity for merchandise well into my teenage years and beyond. As I left home for the first time, I found that I could travel, live out my dream of following a whole tour and see so many bands that I’d wanted to for years. I went mad, travelled everywhere and bought everything. Then it happened. I came home, bought my new life back with me and unpacked it. Have you ever seen a family stage a drug intervention? Seen a mother hold up a small bag of something white and powdery and ask why? Well switch that bag for over one hundred and twenty t-shirts and you’ve got a pretty good idea of the situation. While I’m cold turkey on shirts, I still regularly splash out on pre-orders. Oh merchandise, I just can’t quit you.

When many bands now announce the release date of their new album/EP/single/bowel movement, they also announce the various options by which to pre-order it. We’re no longer offered a CD, the music itself, no! We’re offered the DVD (some of which can be rather good), the commemorative t-shirt, the flag, the belt buckle, the bottle opener, the pencil sharpener and the lenticular poster. Will we ever use them? Of course not. When was the last time you thought ‘What I really need in my life is a commemorative jam jar for the B side of a dodgy single release’. It’s the exclusivity that drags our cursor over to the PayPal button, the threat of missing out on one of fifty. The very idea that we’d miss out on the album with commemorative baseball cap fills us with fear. Our enjoyment of the release will be severely dampened should we not shell out another £15 for things we don’t really want. I for one was sure that I wouldn’t be fully appreciating the full experience of Polar’s Iron Lungs if I didn’t buy the commemorative print. And I certainly wouldn’t enjoy Cradle of Filth’s Darkly, Darkly Venus Aversa without the art prints and the uninspiring t-shirt.  In short, add ‘limited’ to the end of any old thing and you’ve pretty much guaranteed yourself a sale.  Add a countdown to how many are left and you’ve got even more.

It’s hard to figure out which invented the beast of the bundle; the label or the musician. Musicians are more often than not, ‘starving artist’ types, so any means of capitalising on their product is sure to be embraced. But moreso nowadays, even small, unsigned bands are offering their own ‘bundles’ and limited releases. All of which is neither here nor there, but the whole focus of many bands, both established and otherwise, has shifted considerably. Firstly, take My Passion. Opposed to establishing a small merchandise section to their online presence, they formed ‘My Passion Fashion’; a standalone merchandise website that at one time held around twenty t-shirt designs. In the end, following the end of all Inside This Machine promotion, the dust began to settle and My Passion Fashion crumbled. On the other end of the spectrum, there’s the times when non-official band merchandise becomes available; the plectrum or the setlist of the online world. Every now and again, the opportunity arises to own something from a video or from an artist’s personal collection, and this is where prices begin to skyrocket.

All of us at TwoBeatsOff are big fans of Kickstarter-esque self-funding/fan-funding options, but when the options go beyond pledging to buy the CD or offering a small financial boost to an artist, lines begin to blur. Take Yashin’s largely fan-funded We Created A Monster. Through Pledgemusic, fans were able to preorder the CD, get their name in the album sleeve or even attend a meet and greet- all for a price. But many options were beyond self indulgent; fans were able to buy t-shirts worn by the vocalists for sums approaching three figures. This is both frightening both in terms of future trends and of sheer money-grabbing behaviour, especially when you’re aware of the young and impressionable ages of many of your fans. Bring able to own a piece of your favourite artist’s world is, for want of a better term, fan crack. With more bands picking up on this financial power, the distance and power balance between fan and artist may birth a further problematic and destructive relationship.

Merthyr Rock Festival 2012 [31 Aug – 2nd Sept, Cyfarthfa Park, Merthyr Tydfil]

Despite Merthyr Rock only being in its second year, I already regard it as one of my favourite festivals and a more than necessary summer break. While Wales has produced some incredible bands over the years – Funeral For a Friend, Lostprophets and The Blackout but to name a few – it never quite got a break as far as festivals are concerned. That was until 2011 when Hay Festivals decided to not only rock the valleys, but blast a fresh crater into those grassy hills. Last year’s lineup was a day shorter but stellar nonetheless. Managing to snare such names as Young Guns, My Passion and Skindred for your first outing is beyond impressive, so to say there were high expectations for 2012 would be an understatement.

While I had tickets for all three days and attended each accordingly, alas, I am only one person and no doubt I missed some incredible performances on various stages over the days. So count this as a highlights package. Saying that, I varied my tastes and aimed to experience a good cross-section of all music available and you know what? Merthyr topped itself, the whole thing was bloody glorious, from the setup to the food to the weather. Parts of it were so brilliant, that I’m starting to think I dreamed it…

Despite my eventual glee, Friday was never going to be my night. I could liken the experience to being attacked with an indie machine gun; me and the Kooks get along about as well as Inigo Montoya and the man who killed his father. So who was headlining? Razorlight. It was going to be a long night.

But thankfully, before all that hat-wearing frivolity kicked off, there were a good few bands to get through. First on my agenda were The People The Poet (4/5) (formerly known as Tiger Please), who could easily have been awarded the title of ‘best vocals of the weekend’ without having to have seen any other acts. Their singer has the most luscious, rich, gravelly and overwhelmingly divine voice I’ve ever heard; imagine chucking whiskey in a cement mixer. To top this, their music is full and indulgent with all the simplicity and charm of traditional folk music. No doubt, they’ll be earmarked for future NME readers to fawn over, but until then, catch them before they realise how damn good they are. Also, they sang the cheeriest song of the weekend about abortion, so if that doesn’t merit a listen, I don’t know what does. Saves The Day (3/5) were a band I was more intrigued than excited to see. Like many people, I remember flailing around my bedroom in 2002, straining my voice, singing along to At Your Funeral. But that was it. I knew little of their work since and was interested to see if they could still perform, or were reduced to a dull, bland band, feeding off their own sense of nostalgia. My expectations weren’t exactly confounded, but they hardly surprised me either. They’re still a comfortable band with a solid, fun sound, but their lack of dynamism on stage reflected in the audience’s reaction, really limiting their performance. Razorlight (3/5) are an odd one for me to try and sum up. I had many of their hits inflicted on my ears while sitting in the refectory at college, so I was grudgingly familiar with much of their set before they started playing, but that wasn’t enough to make me raise a smile. I could simpIy say that I found the entire set to be dull as dishwater. Soulless music for people that can’t be bothered to look beyond the charts. But that’s a silly, dismissive response. There’s no doubt that they’re all competent musicians and their sound was as crisp, clear and as ‘together’ as it had been on the radio. But when it came to going further than those four or five radio-friendly hits from the past few years, they fell more than a little flat. Their armoury is badly stocked, but I don’t think this phases their general audience.

Saturday was a far greater draw in terms of crowd size, and it’s unsurprising considering the quality lineup in place. After the traditional pre-gig Nando’s excursion, I found myself in front of the re-named James McLaren stage (a wonderful Welsh music journalist who tragically passed away recently), in the presence of Bastions (3.5/5); a tight little hardcore outfit whose raw energy and unbridled power really stood out amongst their fellow bands. While they weren’t exactly challenging any existing genre constructs or techniques, they were really quite good. Fitting somewhere between Brotherhood of the Lake and the more simplistic side of Polar, I wouldn’t be surprised if they joined TDONs books before the year was out. After a brief break from the stages (with signing sessions galore, it’d be rude not to partake), I soon found myself in the presence of Rise to Remain (3.5/5). Rise to Remain are a damn good, young, interesting metal band that seem to have shot up the ladder of success pretty quickly, but suddenly got stuck on one step and haven’t been able to shift since. With a set varied enough to please any metal fan – rabid or casual – and a charismatic frontman in the form of Austin ‘My dad’s in Iron Maiden, ain’t he’ Dickinson, they certainly had all the ingredients, it was just in the cooking that something didn’t quite fit. Yashin (4/5) however seemed very sure of themselves. Perhaps too sure. Yashin are the archetypal scene frontmen; they are hair and iPhones and suggestions of sex. Their online presence is more centred around hair than music, and soon enough their only receptive audience will be the young girls that pore over their filter-heavy pictures on Instagram. In short, Yashin made me feel old and disconnected. That’s the bad stuff. To their credit though, Yashin make damn good music. Although they’re hardly putting a new slant on the dual vocalist routine, they certainly have the best of the best; all screams are powerful and controlled and all clean singing is well-pitched with a really sweet natural tone. With poppy melodies expertly juxtaposed against grinding basslines, their music dances between fun and anthemic with enviable ease.

Lower Than Atlantis (4.5/5), where to start? I’m biased for a start – LTA are by far one of my favourite bands in the UK at the moment, and their innovative, distinctly British take on melodic hardcore is unrivalled. They’re consistent performers, visibly giving their all in every set, regardless of audience sizes. While frontman Mike Duce is the undisputed figurehead of LTA, when they play live, they perform as a unit, with no one fading into the background or playing second fiddle to a more magazine-friendly face. Despite the great sounds coming from the Watford quartet, the setlist was a little lacking – in phasing out much of their older material, their overall stage time lacked a little depth and weight, but with great new songs such as Normally Strange and Love Somebody Else on the list, they could be partially forgiven. While Lower Than Atlantis had grubby charm by the bucketful, Skindred (5/5) had swagger by the craterful. Every time I see Skindred live, as I leave the venue, I’m so buzzing and over-awed by the whole experience that I always think I must have imagined the extent of their mind-blowing performance. I mean, they couldn’t really be that good? But tonight, as the opening bars of the imperial march rang out once more, Skindred not only tore up the rule book, but burned it, buried it and rewrote it. I defy you to find a band more original than Skindred (seriously, name me another ‘ragga metal’ band) and a frontman more captivatingly charismatic than Benji Webbe. With an expertly chosen setlist that had the audience bouncing as one, dancing as one and Newport Helicopter-ing as one, the rag-tag bunch of Newport gents had Merthyr in the palm of their hand. Mixing crowd favourites such as Warning and Pressure with more groove based tracks as Trouble and Cut Dem. Audience jibes and Beyonce segues aside, Skindred are first and foremost a professional band; they take their music and their influence seriously, not only aiming to preach a gospel of fun and partying, but of unity and tolerance – an aim that lies somewhere north of impressive in these cynical times. Skindred are kings, and it’s only a matter of time until we all bow down.

For me, Sunday was mixed to say the least. With my allergies flaring up like nobody’s business, I missed more bands than I ever wanted to, and with old idols destroying their legacy, I left the site with a far different feeling than previously. Annoyingly, Future of the Left (3/5) was the first band I was able to focus all my attention on, and I hardly had to push my way through a packed tent. FOTL were by far the most ‘wildcard’ booking of the festival; with a far more brash and uncooperative sound than most, they weren’t quite on the same wavelength as many of the young festival goers. Despite this, their quirky and fuzzy-guitared take on alt-rock was a real breath of fresh air, and while songs such as Sheena is a T-Shirt Salesman were hardly going to have you thinking about your relationships and approach to life, they’d certainly get you dancing. Also, there was a lady bassist. A real life woman, stood there, playing bass, in proper clothes, and being fucking talented. More of this please. We Are The Ocean (4/5) have a beautiful sound and heartfelt, weighty lyrics that you often feel that you could touch, and were always given an edge with a dash of screams. With one screamer down and one clean vocalist taking the full blast of the limelight, my excitement at watching WATO was as much influenced by my love of their music as it was sheer fascination as to how they’d cope with a more stripped-down approach. But despite notable absences, WATO triumphed. They were bound to be a tad shaky while everyone adjusts to their new roles (some of the back-up replacement screaming was pitchy at best), but overall their sound was as awe-inspiring as before. With a bit more movement on stage, they’ll be back to their old selves in no time. Canterbury (4/5) are on their way to something huge. They have a sound so strange and minor harmonies so tight that it should make the listener feel uneasy, but on the contrary, those nice young chaps (who love their mums very much) are phenomenal musicians. As soon as they strike into any song, they begin to create something far larger than themselves, something that far more people need to hear. Canterbury are odd, wonderful and deserve every scrap of recognition they get. Back on the mainstage were Deaf Havana (3/5). Oh Deaf, where do we start? Since hearing Meet Me Half Way At Least many moons ago, I was sold on Deaf Havana’s introspective and self-deprecating output and I was never slow to shower them with praise. But as the success of 2011’s Fools and Worthless Liars began to grow, my appreciation and tolerance of their performance and vocal nature on and off stage waned. Don’t get me wrong, the album is a good ‘un. It’s deeply personal, well written and a rightfully successful release. Hell, I went to the release party, I did multiple dates on the tour, I did the lot. But now, Deaf have egos the size of their venues and are convinced (or James is at least) that their newfound recognition means that their only valid release, their only creation with merit is Fools and Worthless Liars. With a set at Merthyr consisting of only two songs that weren’t on FAWL and the declaration that their much loved anthem Friends Like These was ‘fucking shit’, I left feeling dejected and cheated. When you perform half-arsed (Merthyr’s performance was better than most recent festival/support slots) and believe your own hype, both your fanbase and your band will consume itself. I don’t know what to think Deaf, I just don’t know.

Thankfully, the nostalgia-fest that was A (4.5/5) hit the second stage and released me from my Norfolk-based melancholy. Seeing A live was a real milestone for me as Nothing was the first CD single I ever bought and provided the soundtrack to much of my pre-teen greebo angst. Despite not having performed much since 2005 and barely rehearsing at all for their slot, their performances of oldies such as Starbucks, I Love Lake Tahoe and Old Folks were as good and as animated as the day they were released. The floppy hair and naivety of youth may have been absent, but A worked just as well without. Also, seeing original bassist and Radio rock-king Daniel P Carter back in his rightful place leaping about on stage was a joy to behold. Another nice surprise was that briefly scanning the crowd, I was not met with a sea of youthful faces and fresh piercings, but huge groups of those in their mid 20s and 30s, all embracing this hugely self-indulgent wave of nostalgia. To top off what had already been a brilliant set, the inevitable set-closer of Nothing was made that bit more intense, fun and, well, Welsh, with the sudden unexpected presence of The Blackout vocalist Sean Smith. To say the collaboration was anything short of amazing would be a huge understatement. Riding on a high, I headed back over to the main stage to catch the sharply dressed Kids In Glass Houses (3/5). While I fully understand that they’re popular and they have a lot of young, dedicated fans, it didn’t quite hit the mark with me. Sure, they had fun, bouncy, vaguely electro-inspired rock songs made for dancing, but for all their posturing and nice little verses, it never quite built to anything.

With lineups like this, Merthyr will fast become a stalwart of the Welsh music scene and I wish it all the very best of luck. It’s fun, cosy, amazingly cheap and always a cracker. Roll on Merthyr Rock 2013!

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.