By Monk
Gigs by tonight’s headliners are rarer than some of the rarest things you can imagine: you’re more likely to get the Pope and the Dalai Lama simultaneously knocking on your door than find this heavyweight combo’s name on an “upcoming shows” list at your local venue, and it would probably take the combined skills of Indiana Jones, Lara Croft and Howard Carter to uncover the last time such an event occurred (it was 15 months ago on this very stage, to save them the exploration!). So, needless to say, their rare forays into the live domain are pretty much “must be there” occasions, and therefore work rotas were re-arranged to enable an almost equally rare venture by myself into the dark back streets of Belfast and up the stairs to my favourite venue for this, their only show this year…
I normally have huge distrust of bands who have laptops plonked front and centre of the stage and use pre-programmed drums, as the latter in particular leaves no room for manoeuvre if something goes wrong, but it has to be admitted that openers New Mud create one helluva big noise. Their dissonant, industrial punk is brutal in its unrelenting assault on all of the senses, and their set is a well-shorn 28 short sharp minutes of well co-ordinated intensity.
Next up we have a band for whom I have built up a huge amount of respect over the past two years, not least because of their approach to what they do, which is as uncompromising as it is sardonic and tongue-in-cheek, the latter quality evinced by the twists in the between song eulogies, which are absolutely feckin’ hysterical (in a way possibly only us Belfast folk would understand!).
The Boat Sank lay down seriously iceberg heavy riffage combined with massive melodies and enough power to keep a nuclear generator on full blast into the next millennium, their dense, throbbing rhythms tighter than a welded nut, with their instruments speaking to you in such a way that you forget there actually aren’t any vocals, because you can hear the poetry they produced deep down in your subconsciousness.
With the initially small crowd having grown pleasingly in number as the evening progresses, the main part of the room is plunged into darkness and it’s time for those who believe in such things to put their earplugs in, ‘cos this is going to be fucking LOUD! But, first, there’s touch a piano, but then if it’s your first gig in 15 months then you might as well build the atmosphere before hitting your audience right between the ears with a tsunami of sound!
7.5 Tonnes Of Beard‘s is suitably huge, their monolithic doom-laden melodic hardcore-infused riffs, topped off with acerbic vocals, possessing more sludge than the river running under the adjoining street. The effect is equally hypnotic and exacerbating, enervating and visceral, their minimalist sound stripping everything back to what it needs to be, proving that less is more and more is less as they deliver the maximum effect with no wastage or unnecessary effort. Not that there’s anything lackadaisical about what they do, as their combination of complementary intensity and subtlety is beautifully crafted and always makes the wait for one of their shows well worth it. Tonight was another such occasion.
- All content © Über Rock. Not to be reproduced in part or in whole without the express written permission of Über Rock.