By Monk
A damp but otherwise unseasonably clement Sunday evening, especially so early in the year, traditionally would not bode well for a good turnout for a show, so it was a pleasant surprise to hear, a few days beforehand, that this debut visit to these shores by Albany post-hardcore proponents Drug Church was, deservedly, a sell-out (in ticket sales, of course, ya cynical bastids!).
Unfortunately, earlier family commitments and unfavourable train timings mean that, by the time I have climbed the narrow stairs to my favourite haunt, I have missed openers The New Normal. Now, regular readers will know we always make every effort to catch the support acts at shows, and I’m a tad pissed that this is the second time I have been unable to catch these guys in such a slot – especially as, talking to a few peeps reveals that they apparently delivered a blinding set (something evidenced by the steady stream of people visiting their well-stocked merch stall).
I’ve time to purchase a libation – purely to aid the flow of the creative critical juices, you understand, before main support Belwood launch into their set of jaggy alt-punk, delivered with plenty of spit and unpolished verve. As the set progresses, they throw in elements of post-punk and sludgy grunge, as well as a smattering of pop-punk infusions and a dash of old school hardcore on the penultimate song.
Leaving aside frontman Daniel’s rather dubious wardrobe choice, it’s a tightly delivered and well-received set, with the two guest slots being neat touches to add to the variety of their material.
“This is not bullshit, but this is one place I’ve always wanted to play,” declares Patrick Kindlon during the first of his several interactions with his packed-out congregation (sic), many of whom are too young to remember his subsequent reference to “black and white photographs of kids bouncing on a mattress and a burning car behind them” (unfortunately there are also some of us who remember these all too vividly).
Musically, the quintet don’t fuck about, launching straight into their distinctive brand of grunge-infested hardcore – and it also doesn’t take long for the audience to reciprocate the onstage energy, with the first stage diver of the evening giving them an appropriately enthusiastic Belfast response. For some reason, Kindlon seems to think stage-diving is illegal in this particular corner of the Überverse, but nevertheless extols the virtues of breaking the law: “like a bank robbery, if you’re gonna commit a crime, do it properly”, a comment which provokes a tsunami of criminal behaviour, actively encouraged by the frontman, along with constant exhortations on the rules of the pit with comments like “catch him” and “keep it tight” interjected between his lyrics. Well done that man: too many bands encourage their fans to “fuck that shit up” without any regard to the possible consequences. Having said that, one punter is forced to leave early with a bloodied face: obviously, everyone hopes he’s OK.
Aurally, DC are like Nirvana jamming with Black Flag, with The Pixies sitting in for the shits and giggles. The songs are catchy yet fiercesome, delivered with taut precision and practised ease, but still with plenty of venom in their bite. The only downside is the brevity of the set, a mere 45 minutes, but, then, sometimes less is more, and that was certainly the case tonight.
- The tour continues at St Luke’s in Glasgow tonight (Tuesday 6 February), the Project House in Leeds tomorrow (Wednesday) and the Electric Ballroom in Camden on Thursday, finishing at SWX in Bristol on Friday before heading over to Europe for dates in Germany, Denmark, The Netherlands and Belgium.
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