Festival review – Bloodstock Open Air – 13th-15th August 2010

It’s time to bring the metal back to this here blog! And what better way to do it than with a look back at a most excellent weekend of music and frivolity at Catton Hall in Derbyshire.

It started out on Thursday with a leisurely arrival on site and about an hour of sunshine and a nice glass of boxed wine by our freshly-pitched tents, before the gods frowned upon us and the heavens opened. The rain was quite something, it has to be said. That night two of our three tents were robbed and in the remaining tent, my other half was vomiting up a sausage of the apocalypse. Let’s just say, it was an inauspicious start.

But from small beginnings grow massive trees, or however the saying goes, and the weekend improved one day at time. This is some of what our ears were treated to over the three days.

Friday 13th August

On this most metal of dates, we were up bright and early and waiting expectantly in the New Blood unsigned bands tent for the first band of the weekend, Under Blackened Skies from Birmingham, who also happen to contain a good friend of ours, Mr Manu Patel on lead vocals. They kicked seven shades of crap out of the slowly awakening masses, the delicate hour of the morning no obstacle to their thundering metal juggernaut of a sound, big fat riffs and drum savagery all tied up in the most metal of bows, the guttural trachea-clenching vocals of Manu. I was rather like a proud mother it has to be said, and I was very impressed with what I saw. It was also great to see the gang from Birmingham after quite some time away. A great start to proceedings.

Over on the mainstage we caught a snippet of Black Spiders. Quite what they were doing at Bloodstock I don’t really know; they sounded like Queens of the Stone Age-lite. Repetitive and underwhelming, they really must be the most over-rated alternative band of the moment. Ross the Boss then proceeded to bring some power metal to the party, and even from the campsite we could hear him being, er, shrill.

Drafted in as last-minute replacements for Behemoth who unfortunately had to cancel due to illness, legendary British metallers Cathedral were a fine substitute. They got everyone going with their inimitable mix of stoner rock and psychedelia, their material from past and present sounding as fresh as ever.

Sonata Arctica were a funny one. We caught the majority of their set whilst waiting in the Opeth signing queue, and despite sounding like a credible option for Finland’s next foray into the Eurovision song contest, they were sort of good. The lead singer, despite wearing a WHITE hoodie (where does he think he is, the streets of Wallsend?!) was quite charming and seemed to be having a jolly nice time. Bless him. My other half pronounced that they were ‘terrible’ – so that’s both bases covered there then.

In the early evening glow, sub-headliners Meshuggah bludgeoned my tired mind with their insanely tight rhythms for an hour, during which time I felt like my brain may well have been covertly impregnated with some kind of coding which will turn me into a math metal drone the next time I hear a bar of 156/21 time. Watch this space – and nobody play me any Dillinger Escape Plan for crying out loud.

Friday’s headliners, in place of Heaven & Hell, were Sweden’s finest export, the genius that is Mikael Akerfeldt and his travelling band of musos known as Opeth. I have seen this band quite a number of times in the last couple of years but it has to be said that they were absolutely breath-taking tonight. Their sound was clear as a bell, their setlist was impeccably selected and included gems from across their back catalogue, as well as a cover of ‘Catch the Rainbow’ by Rainbow. It was a poignant and fitting tribute to the late Ronnie James Dio, and featured a rather nervous-looking Mikael shedding his guitar and facing the crowd with nothing but his voice. He did an astounding job and I salute him. He somehow manages to combine self-effacing with wry arrogance, but he always does so with an air of comedic inspiration, and I for one am a massive fan.

Saturday 14th August

The day began with a lot of trudging through a lot of mud as the heavens had officially decide to turn against the heathens overnight and had thrown down their wet fury upon us for hour upon hour. Lovely stuff. However, a ray of sunshine was threatening to peep through as the showers continued to taunt us, and we watched our first two bands of the day mostly from the sheltered edge of the Bloodstock Arms. First up for us was Leaves’ Eyes, a female-fronted Scandinavian folk-type outfit. Prizes to be awarded here, one for the most pointless band member of the weekend (and may I point out this was a weekend which included GWAR), the instrument-free bloke who basically just threw his ridiculously long dreads around and shouted ‘come on’ a lot. And secondly for most wooden lead singer of the weekend. The woman, although dressed impeccably, was either laced far too tightly into her corset, or future world peace was resting on her not putting a perfectly straight blonde hair out of place, as she didn’t move a muscle the entire show other than a theatrically raised arm here and there. She also sounded like Celine Dion. Just terrible.

Secondly were Evile. This was far more like it. This British thrash quartet really have stamped their mark on the metal scene and it’s clear to see why. Instantly accessible despite having some insanely complex guitar work, they combine classic heavy metal with an electric live performance, as well as being seemingly thoroughly nice blokes to boot. Bravo.

Next we had an excursion into the New Blood tent to check out a couple of very different up and coming acts. Zocalo first, a groove-laden rock band in the southern style, fronted by another female singer; the contrast couldn’t have been greater. This girl had attitude, personality and more groove than a box of LPs, and when the band realised they had gone under time and could do an encore the place went mad. Great stuff. Lithurgy were up next and couldn’t have been more different. Edgy, angsty, passionate, driven, mature, puzzling… These guys were a musical conundrum, fusing progressive and technical metal with the part-grindcore part-post-hardcore vocal stylings of the lead singer, who also brandished a saxophone at one point in the set, as well as dancing in a way that would make even his mother cringe. Interesting band, and one I shall be keeping an eye on in future years.

The Jagermeister acoustic stage was little more than a speaker on the back of a truck, and we visited it for the first time later that day to hear midlands-based gothic duo Hanging Doll, whose maudlin lyrics and haunting vocals somehow managed to distract the small crowd from the sound of Obituary’s sound check. Quite a feat. Obituary themselves held our attention for a small time and sounded damn good, the death metal legends clearly on fine form, but we were on our way to the tent again for a gander at London-based metallers Silas, who weren’t the best band of the weekend in terms of exceptional musical talent, but they were great fun to watch, and the singer was so cockney it was unreal. I’m fairly certain he offered us a pound of tomatoes half price at one point.

My lovely Finns Amorphis were next up on the Ronnie James Dio stage. They didn’t draw a huge crowd which was a shame as they delivered a really energetic, enjoyable set, featuring a few songs from their latest offering ‘Skyforger’ along with some of their older material. Lead singer Tomi Joutsen became the second man of the day with rotating dreads of over a meter long, but in comparison with the pointless bloke from Leaves’ Eyes, he could sing, and was a little barrel of dynamite at the front of the stage. A really tanned one, strangely.

The most anticipated set of the weekend was next on the list, and the excitement was palpable as a huge crowd gathered for Devin Townsend. He surprised everyone by appearing onstage during his soundcheck, dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans, proceeding to fiddle about with gear for a while after a sheepish wave at the enthralled masses. The next half an hour involved some serious technical issues for the Canadian, but he kept the crowd entertained throughout with constant banter, general pissing about and even an interpretive dance routine. The guy is mesmeric, it’s truly impossible to tear your eyes away from him as he struts across the stage gurning and grinning like a maniac. The set he produced, although curtailed, was blinding, his soaring voice and effortless guitar-playing making grown men weep tears of molten lava. I shit you not.

Fear Factory were the first of the co-headliners for the evening and for me, they started fairly tamely, but improved throughout. The stage bravely held up despite what was surely the hugest combined weight of a single band ever to tread its boards (and again I’ll remind you, this was a festival that included GWAR, their infinity members and massive costumes included). I was as sad as my companions were amused to note that the ravages of time hadn’t done Burton C Bell’s vocals a whole heap of good, and I have to admit the tuning was off a lot of the time, but hey, they’re an industrial metal band, how important can it be? When I felt my attention waning later in the set and shouted ‘play more songs from Demanufacture!’ the metal gods must have been listening – either that or Burton C Bell has ridiculously good hearing – because almost immediately Bell proclaimed ‘the rest of the set will be made up of songs from Demanufacture!’. I was a happy bunny and it all picked up from there.

Children of Bodom were the second co-headliner and as we headed back to the tents for some food and beverages, I was really disappointed I hadn’t stayed to watch them. They sounded really good.

Sunday 14th August

Finally the rain had fully abated and we awoke to sunshine, which improved steadily throughout the day. Nice. As I’m writing this from the future and have just realised I hadn’t got as far as Sunday before being a lazy goit and forgetting about finishing this post, I’m going to keep the Sunday reviews short. Very short.

Neonfly – they played in the unsigned tent. We didn't like them. We left.

Suffocation – hardcore shoutyness of the worst kind – macho and giant bollocked and full of shite. Went on about guns. Twat.

Holy Moses – the music was really quite good – almost grungy at times! But the German bird singer was not.

Doro – more German women than you can shake a stick at on the mainstage today. Doro was good – good rock vocals and really got the crowd going. Covered ‘Breaking the Law’ which was, um, an experience.

Korpiklaani – I was drunk by this point and it was fantastic. Crazy Finnish folk band, prize for line of the weekend went to the singer who before one track proclaimed ‘just follow the accordian’! When are you ever going to hear that again at a metal gig! Lots of country dancing, general bouncing around and mad cheering ensued. Fab.

GWAR – no idea what their music sounded like, and I don’t think anyone really cared, including the band. Fantastic entertainment, giant costumes, hideously unpleasant role-playing, lots of goo.

Gojira – absolutely incredible. Tight, crushing, soaring, engaging, electrifying. The surprise package of the weekend for those who weren’t fans prior to the festival. For those of us that were, Gojira delivered the goods as they always do, proving themselves once again to be one of the best live bands currently in existence. We even managed to meet them afterwards and have them sign some stuff, and jolly nice fellows they were too.

Bloodbath – the death metal ‘super-group’ composed of members of Opeth and Katatonia, Bloodbath offered us Mikael Akerfeldt in a somewhat different guise to his appearance two nights previously. They didn’t take themselves too seriously and delivered a decent set, impressive considering it was only their 8th time playing live together.

Twisted Sister – convinced we would hate them, we all went back to the campsite to enjoy the last few drinks of what had been an amazing weekend. However, deciding it was our last chance to hear some live music, we fancied a wander and plus, it was a headliner so we should probably have a look. So we trooped back into the arena and enjoyed some drunken call and response antics with the impressively-locked Dee Schneider and his band. A surprising and fun end to the weekend.

Good times had by all? Most definitely. I do have some pictures to punctuate the rather huge lump of text I’ve thrown at you but they’re not with me right now. I may or may not remember to upload some at some undisclosed point in the near or distant future. The End.

A spot of tennis? It’s poetry in motion.

By way of an apology to anyone who comes here expecting gig reviews (yes I know you flock to my blog in your thousands): I should probably divide this blog into two somehow. Or just start different blogs for my waxing and waning interests. My distinct lack of exposure to live music so far this year, particularly in the last three months or so, has not only disturbed me deeply, but coupled with the pathetic flailings of the England ‘football’ team in South Africa has led me to a new obsession, and one which I am enjoying so thoroughly I sincerely doubt I’ll ever get tired of it. I knew I was more excited about tennis than usual this year but I wasn’t sure why. Well finally I know. It’s the sport I should have been focussing on all these years – loving it for a month or so a year just simply isn’t enough. I’ve been doing that since I was 8 or 9 years old, so why hasn’t it stuck sooner? So I’ve taken the plunge and invested myself in the sport, heart and soul, over the past couple of months, and here’s what I’ve concluded so far about why it’s the most under-rated spectator sport going.

1) There’s always something to be excited about. In the whole year there’s literally only about 3 weeks in December when there ISN’T a tennis competition of some kind going on. It’s like the football season, only better. There are matches EVERY DAY. There’s always another draw to look forward to, another upset, another rising star or fallen idol, another giant serve or breath-taking backhand. It never ends. Therefore it is pure, and perfect.

2) The perpetrators of this fine sport appear to be thoroughly nice chaps. They converse jocularly with one another through such modern networks as Twitter, and they do so with articulate intelligence, often not in their first language, and sometimes even in two. Beats Rio Ferdinand’s monosyllabic nonsense into the ground. They earn good money for their profession, yes, but outside of the top echelons of the sport (and I’m talking a seriously limited number of people here) they are not paid ridiculous sums of money, and even those that are remain humble, dedicated, and passionate about their sport. Like athletes, these are men and women who tend to remain involved with tennis long after they have retired from the tour, playing Masters and exhibition events and generally keeping themselves in great shape. It’s a really nice network of people who genuinely seem to love what they do.

3) Also like athletics, it’s easy to support individuals in tennis, regardless of what country they are from. It’s a sport where for the most part, individuals are competing for themselves, and so the feeling of needing to support your own countrymen is not as strong. Thankfully, as I’m really not a fan of the unfortunate-faced surly oik that Britain calls its number one these days. I’ve been a patriot when it comes to sport for a number of years, and although up until recently I used to love supporting England at football, I can’t deny that it made a nice change once the fumbling bunch of duffers had gone out of the World Cup to support the teams that I actually liked watching. And that’s why I love tennis so much. You can do that all the time. It’s a carte blanche to get behind whoever you damn well please.

4) It’s completely unpredictable. The obscenely complicated rankings system means that players have to employ real strategy when deciding which tournaments to play, and which to sit out. This means that you see a different collection of players in every tournament; countless different match-ups and myriad possibilities for outcomes. Add to this four different surfaces, each with their respective merits and disadvantages, and it really is a recipe for an ever-fluctuating, thrilling year-round experience. Not just two weeks in June – much as those Pimms and strawberry-filled weeks are a joy to everyone involved with the sport, from the armchair fan to the players themselves, many of whom see Wimbledon as a mecca, a kind of mothership to which they strive to return year in year out. It really is worth keeping up with once the grass of the All-England club falls silent.

5) The sport itself is a joy to watch, but there is so much going on off court too. Tennis is as much a mental as it is a physical game. It’s an endless tussle between rest and recovery, and achieving that much sought-after match fitness. Players must gamble with their bodies and make judgements over which tournaments would best suit their hunt for points, all leading towards the Barclays-sponsored ATP Tour Finals which will be held in London for the second time this year, on the indoor hard courts at the O2 arena. I have already purchased tickets and am breathless with anticipation as to who I will actually see in action. And the beauty of this fluid yet erratic sport is, other than the beast that is Rafael Nadal, who has already scored enough points to guarantee a place at this prestigious event, I really don’t know yet.

So there you have it. The biggest downside I’ve discovered so far is the lack of coverage on British television but that’s not a huge surprise when it comes to sport. And if the above reasons weren’t enough? Wimbledon apparently employed a resident poet this year. Which other sport can say that?

A tale of my sporting loyalties, and other such rambles

With just two weeks to go until the World Cup kicks off, I could be forgiven for admitting that not a great deal has crossed my mind in the last couple of weeks that isn’t sport-related. However it’s surprised me to learn that it’s not ALL football-related. The build-up to Wimbledon for me, at least, has started early this year, and I find myself strangely drawn to the French Open.

So what's happened so far on the Parisienne clay then? Well Nadal is looking devastating, in more ways than one (did I say that out loud?!). I can't see anyone standing in his way this year, knee permitting. Which is going to cause something of a moral dilemma for me in the next round as it's looking like he'll face Hewitt. And not only have I always been a big fan of the Aussie, but I always support the underdog. Will my Rafa-naticism hold out? Or will my resolve crumble and the guts or glory instinct take over, compelling me to sing ‘let’s go Lleyton, let’s go’ at the top of my voice, along with the hoardes of mouthy Aussies that will doubtless congregate at Court Phillippe Chatrier for the match? Watch this space.

Murray's been a bit all over the place so far, although he seems to be settling down now. I don’t know why I mention him really, I am still physically incapable of giving even the teeniest tiniest hamster crap about him, however ‘unpatriotic’ that might make me (yes, let’s ask him who’s he’s supporting in the World Cup THIS time and see if he manages to piss off practically his entire fanbase AGAIN). Also, I saw something yesterday I don't think I will ever emotionally recover from, and as such I think anyone with even a passing interest in tennis needs to see it so I'm not alone. It's only a minute long (it's more than enough, really):

http://www.atpworldtour.com/Tennis/Media/Videos/2010/05/Roland-Garros-2010-Karaoke-Murray.aspx]http://www.atpworldtour.c...10-Karaoke-Murray.aspx

The less said about that the better.

So, tennis anyone? Just me for now then! I'm sure it'll be more of a talking point in a month or so when the white-clad ones take to the manicured lawns at the All England Club. In the meantime I am revving up my England-fuelled emotional torture device and it should be ready to go by the time we take to the field for the first time in Rustenburg on 12th June. I’m sure by that point we’ll already have lost at least two key players to metatarsal injuries, inflicted by aggrieved WAGs most likely. Respective tears for respective pints at the ready, everyone? Good.

Until then, I’ll be drinking to the finale of Lost tonight (yes, I know I’m late, but I’m a traditionalist. Plus I’ve been on holiday and have only just caught up) and the ever-fabulous Eurovision Song Contest tomorrow. Don’t even pretend you aren’t going to ‘have it on in the background’. Come on Slovenia! I can’t cheer you in the World Cup but I bloody can in this. And anything has to be better than that pathetic wet tissue of a British entry.

Right. Have a good weekend, everyone!

EDIT: I've just discovered that Slovenia aren't even in the arsing song contest. It's got to be between Armenia and Moldova, right? Right...?!

The Black Procession Tour – Newcastle Academy 2, 26th February 2010

A lack of hair, more than compensated for by a collection of circle pits…

It was a cold, rainy night in February. I was waiting, coatless, outside an Academy. And yet I WASN’T seeing Lamb of God. Say what?

Instead, The Black Procession tour, which has been weaving its way up and down the country for the last week or so, comprising some big, fat, no-nonsense metal for all to partake of. Well, alright then, I suppose I’ll give it a go.

First on the bill, Glaswegian deathcore crew Man Must Die, the replacement band for All Shall Perish who had unfortunately pulled out of the tour some time ago. They were worth turning up early for, despite their repeated insistence on demanding a ‘circle pit’ which, in a Scottish accent, just made me think of Lorraine Kelly trying to organise a knitting club on GMTV. The pit that stuttered into existence was quite appropriate then, featuring about three 15-year-olds tripping over each other and a big bald bloke who eventually cleared the space for a spot of Greco-roman wrestling. I shit you not. From a musical standpoint, closing track ‘Kill It, Skin It, Wear It’ is quite catchy really and I think these chaps are more than capable of holding their own at this level.

Next up were Bleeding Through. The crowd had swelled by this point and they definitely created some atmosphere. Those of you who know me, or have ever read my blog, know that I’m really only comfortable with a metal band when they’re good and hairy. In fact, my enjoyment of a band is probably directly correlated with their relative hairiness. Your hairs are your aerials, after all. It came as no surprise, then, that I really didn’t connect with this band, as they seemed to be suffering from a nasty strain of collective baldness, well, aside from keyboard player Maria Peterson, allegedly one of the hottest (read: only) women in metal, yet clearly not really essential to the musical proceedings, other than to lend some impressive round-the-clock headbanging with the only hair on the stage.

I also feel it is my duty to point out that the ‘circle’ pit they created was not geometrically sound at all; it was more of an elliptical shape, really. Most irregular. It was large, though. It struck me at that moment, that circle pits really must be the most masculine way for a large group of blokes to skip around in a circular formation together.

To be fair to Bleeding Through, they certainly got people going, but I found the music generic and they did little to impress me in all honesty.

Hatebreed on the other hand, are severely follicly challenged, but they seem to be the exception that proves the rule (whatever that actually means). They whip the crowd up a notch immediately, everyone shouting along with their catchy brand of metallic hardcore (I refuse to call it metalcore as I don’t think it actually IS, really). They tear through songs from a variety of albums, have some good banter with the crowd despite verging on overly cheesy Americanisms at times (‘who has more heart than you? No-one!’) and are thoroughly entertaining, particularly as I can’t shake the feeling of lead singer Jamey Jasta reminding me of Fred Durst, which lends things a slight comedy over-tone, for me at least.

It’s clear from Machine Head’s soundcheck that the warnings I’ve had from previous attendees on this tour are going to be borne out here tonight too – it’s going to be LOUD. Thankfully I’ve brought along some earplugs and they are rammed into my ears by the time the headline act take the stage, yet it still sounds like a regular gig to me – I think this means, it’s LOUD. My vibrating sternum was testament to this, in the absence of aching eardrums.

As promised, the band give us a sort of ‘greatest hits’ set, inasmuch as they pick highlights from each of their six studio albums, as well as debuting old tracks – ‘Spine’ from The More Things Change gets its first airing EVER in the UK, and ‘Blood For Blood’ from Burn My Eyes its first in 8 years. This pleases me as I’m an old-school Machine Head fan, and hearing six tracks in total from across their first two albums is pretty good going. Also, they are three-quarters hairy, which makes me feel at home again. Highlights for me include ‘Old’ and ‘Bulldozer’ as well as the rare tracks, and of course the crushing crescendo of final song ‘Davidian’, which never fails to grab every metal fan in the room by the throat and squeeze.

Gig over, I was smugly aware that I was probably the only person in the place that had retained some form of hearing. For my first gig since the Lamb of God tour, it was a good one. It kicked the crusty Wrath-infested cobwebs away and reminded me that life goes on – there are many more gigs to be had, many more bands to bang my head to. Although I have to say it did feel strange not hearing ‘Richmond motherfucking Virginia’ at the beginning or ‘last chance to dance’ at the end (Robb Flynn almost said it… but not quite). I did sort of feel like I was being unfaithful. But Lamb of God can rest easy. I may have been with Machine Head… but I was thinking of them the whole time.

Lamb of God Wrath 2010 Tour - The Review

When I first considered the notion of following a band around the UK for a full headline tour, it seemed a bit absurd. It would clearly be tiring, expensive and a physical and mental challenge – was it really worth the bother? Having made a good stab at it with Tool back in 2006 I knew that seeing one of your favourite bands live, repeatedly, was ample reward for the output of effort. But this was five dates in five days, covering large distances and the threat of suffering whiplash and liver failure on a daily basis – was I man enough?! I clearly couldn’t do it alone, and was egged on every step of the way by the Norwegian Congregation members who inspired me the take this tour on in the first place, Ilona and Tone, and by my newly-acquired fellow Lamb of God-loving buddy, Dan. Without them, I wouldn’t be where I am today, literally in some cases! More on them later!

I never know where to start in these situations, and even when I’m about to post on one of the most amazing weeks of my life the problem doesn’t go away – in fact it’s worse, as there is just so much to say. But at least it’s possible to give it SOME structure, so to follow the advice of Julie Andrews (and which self-respecting metaller wouldn’t?) – let’s start at the very beginning.

DAY ONE – Tuesday 9th February

An agonising morning at work (why oh why didn’t I just take the whole day off?!) preceded the walk to Central Station in Newcastle, where my week of Pure American Metal™ was about to begin. A fairly relaxing train journey later I met up with Claire Allatt who would be joining our merry band of metallers for the first leg of the tour. After checking into our porta-hotel (Etap, Birmingham) we rocked up at Scruffy’s for a well-deserved pint and to rendevous with the LOG crew (poetry corner alert). The Norwegians greeted me with a thunderous Lamb of God chant and it became clear they were as crazy as their 17-date European tour suggested. Dan took about five minutes to nickname me ‘Mum’ due my superior age (and intelligence, of course!) and it was clear we were all going to have a week to remember.

We had a couple of pints, wondered what the hell we were letting ourselves in for, and made our way to the O2 Academy, where we arrived just in time to catch the last song of first support act, Between The Buried And Me. I say the last song, although it was a 10 minute piece, but it turned out to be the only song they played that night – it’s a mystery as to what went wrong but it must have been very disappointing for fans of the band, who found themselves attending a somewhat different show to that which they might otherwise have wanted.

As I have seen most of the bands five times this week I’ll only review them once – BTBAM will come later. August Burns Red made a good first impression on me – energetic, tight and punchy, they went down really well with the Brummie crowd and really livened up proceedings.

Not in any rush to drag myself away from conversation with the most excellent Manu Patel, I only caught the back end of Job For A Cowboy – I have to confess to not having been a huge fan of this band before the start of the tour, and I wasn’t blown away by them on my first viewing, although being so far away from the action could have had something to do with it.

Dan, Claire and I made a joint decision to remain watching from the balcony for Lamb of God; it seemed logical to experience as many different viewpoints as possible in our five days, and having a full view of the stage made a nice change, seeing the full kit, backdrop and band! The guys made an explosive start to the tour, the setlist featuring much of latest album ‘Wrath’ as well as some older favourites and classic tracks. Personal highlights were the spine-chilling guitar duet preceding ‘Grace’, and ‘Reclamation’ which sounded just devastatingly good and had me punching Dan in the arm with excitement that it had made it onto the setlist – what a tune. The self-proclaimed (and Randy-proclaimed!) 'home of heavy metal' had surely proved its worth tonight.

As it goes, it appeared that we’d all forgotten it was still the middle of the most blisteringly cold winter since records began or what have you, so we all went back to the hotel, donned extra layers and headed back out to hang by the buses. Chatted to some fellow fans and tried desperately not to freeze solid whilst waiting to say hi to the guys. We got to have a quick chat with Mark Morton and Chris Adler and take a couple of photos which was pretty sweet, Randy Blythe was in the pub already apparently and the others had managed to get by us somehow so we went to the nearest kebab shop and satisfied our hunger with kebab meat, the most metal fork in the world and a really big knob. A good start to the tour? I'll say.

DAY TWO – Wednesday 10th February

Managed a spot of breakfast in the glorious Pallasades shopping centre (one of the true jewels in Birmingham’s crown – how I miss it!) before literally throwing a bottle of Diet Coke down the stairs at New Street station, jumping over it as it exploded and leaving it behind me as I rushed off to catch my train back to Newcastle. I am so rock and roll.

It was kind of strange coming home in the middle of the tour but it was good to experience some home comforts before heading out for show number 2, via Geordie metallers’ mainstay Trillians for an obligatory pre-gig pint (read: pints) with the other half.

The Academy in Newcastle was the smallest venue we would visit all week and the most relaxed – it’s not sold out and although lively, we’re still able to watch from near the front. We’re there from the beginning this time, and catch a full Between the Buried and Me set, which although still only amounting to around 25 minutes, is better than yesterday. They are just as impressive as expected – mind-pulverisingly technical grindcore fusing beautifully with spacey jazz-infused melodic sections; this band really are ones to watch, and despite their odd billing on a tour primarily composed of more mainstream metal bands, they impress each night without fail, and make a small army of followers very happy indeed.

Lamb of God are on point tonight, the sound very good with the vocals higher in the mix than they sometimes tend to be, which is a very good thing. The crowd may be smaller than the average on this tour but they are perfectly formed (if I do say so myself) and it’s a night of slightly (read: very) tipsy head-banging goodness and an all round thumbs up. Staggered home (well, got a cab because we’re lazy) and enjoyed the luxury of getting out the Breville and having a stupidly cheesy sausage and cheese toastie made for me – and that’s where the home comforts ended!

DAY THREE – Thursday 11th February

Despite being two gigs down and three to go, the travelling part of the tour felt as though it properly kicked off for me when Dan’s Lambrover™ arrived to pick me up at around 11:00am Thursday morning. Finally I was travelling with my partners in crime, and we were all in high spirits as we set off for Glasgow. It’s a pleasant road-trip from the North-East to Scotland and was made even better by the copious amounts of metal, Pringles, Jaffa Cakes and general hilarity that ensued. I explained to our Norwegian friends the concept of fried Mars Bars, and why the Scottish and English don’t get on, we saw a massive cock on a hill (really!) and arrived in Glasgow in good time, navigating the city centre with aplomb despite the seeming desire of all buses to crush us on our way. The Lambrover had now become the special bus – Scotland was not going to know what had hit it! Our accommodation was the Euro Hostel which wasn’t too bad really, and we started our evening activity in the hostel bar with another well-deserved pint.

I met up with John Todd and some other Scottish boardies who proceeded to encourage me to drink rather more cider than I had originally anticipated, and rock up at the gig too late to see BTBAM. Watched ABR from the back and found them just as entertaining as on previous days, especially whilst slightly drunk and standing on the Barrowlands’ bouncy floor.

Then was my time. Following a combination of peer pressure and morbid curiosity I had made the decision to do something that I’ve literally never done before – watch a metal gig from the barrier (Swallow the Sun didn’t count – there were only about 30 people watching!). I made my way to the front with surprising ease and practised my photography skills on Job For A Cowboy, who I have to say by that point had started to grow on me. It did help that they were rather easy on the, er, camera lens. It got intense after that and the camera was laid to rest (see what I did there) for the impending arrival of our protagonists.

And what an arrival. Glasgow just tips the other shows as my personal favourite gig of the week – purely because of my proximity to the action, eyeball to eyeball with the Virginian metal gods and able even to share a few words with them at the end of the show, and have a very sweet Glaswegian security fellow retrieve a pick for me that fell short, as well as a setlist for Dan. Nice. As far as the gig itself goes, it’s clear that Randy Blythe enjoys Scotland, he was enthusiastically bigging up the Scottish, he executed his one and only stage-dive of the week and foolishly (to my horror) advised everyone to ‘go off like you’re at a Celtic Rangers game’. Oh god. Somehow, my ribcage came through relatively unscathed. It was a top gig despite Willie’s speaker cutting out during the last couple of songs – he tried beating it with his fists to fix it but strangely this clearly tried and tested reparatory method didn’t work this time – I wonder why?

I went a bit mental after that, possibly due to the dehydration and the large volumes of other people’s sweat that I had absorbed through every pore, and after getting out I realised that Jagermeister was really the only answer to the as yet un-asked question, and so we walked to the Cathouse in Glasgow, accompanied by a rousing rendition of ‘Bob the Builder’ in Norwegian. Which surprisingly, keeps popping into my head even now. Had a good night in the Cathouse dancing like a loon to various metal classics and fondling the chain mail wall hangings.

DAY FOUR – Friday 12th February

The morning in Glasgow was shared between Subway and Boots (breakfast subs, eyeliner and ear plugs all being tour essentials, of course!). The trip to the latter establishment included one of the worst ever suggested possible chat-up lines for a person to use on a metal singer, and the less said about that the better. We took to the Lambrover for the long haul to Manchester, and endured a long and fairly quiet road trip (although that was mainly due to us all being temporarily deaf) before hitting a run of bad karma which included getting lost repeatedly in Manchester City Centre, both in the car and on foot, finding out that our hostel was an absolute hellhole, and me forgetting my ticket halfway to the venue. The mood was low, probably just due to tiredness and aching bodies, and we needed a pick-me-up for sure.

We put the stress behind us with a chill and a beer outside the academy (making up for lost time due to my error by hailing a cab – which turned out to be a very good plan indeed!) It occurred to us that it might have been somewhat ignorant for us not to at least learn the names of the members of Job For A Cowboy, as we seemed to be bumping into them every five minutes, and providing them with smoking paraphernalia, but it slipped my mind. I really will do better next time. Had a brief chat to Mr Morton which was nice and chatted to some of the other fans waiting outside. It was feeling quite normal by this point to be doing what we were doing, ie the full tour, perhaps even a bit soft, in consideration of what the Norwegians were doing, but the more people we told, the more it seemed that actually, it was quite a feat – people were impressed, jealous, or just thought we were crazy, but in all our travels we didn’t encounter anyone else doing anything even remotely similar, so perhaps we weren’t so normal after all?

After a miscalculation in door times resulting in a long wait in the cold (what was new!) I managed to get on the barrier for the second night in a row, although it was surprisingly bloody cold up there and extremely crushed, and I bailed out during LOG’s third song – two days in a row is just too painful, and I’m not an elastic-boned teen anymore. I drank a pint and a half of liquid in about 30 seconds and enjoyed the rest of the show from the relative calm of the bar.

Post-show, we talked to Campbell who berated us for not getting to soundcheck that day – apparently there was a failure to communicate the night before, oops! We re-arranged for tomorrow in London – nice. Chatted some more to Chris who informed us we had been the subject of some discussion between the band – they were considering changing up the setlist for us! I asked if they did requests. To my surprise he said sure, what did I want to hear? I was thrilled to find out that my actual request (Descending) had been played in rehearsal that day for possible inclusion in tomorrow’s setlist – double nice. We were about to head back to the hostel when super-dude sound dude Spud (no, I didn’t think that one through before typing it) invited us along to a bar they were going to – triple nice.

Big Hands bar on Oxford Road is so very cool in a laid-back, retro-cum-hip-hop chic way that I actually had to remind myself out loud a couple of times that I was still in Manchester and not in Soho. I can’t actually decide whether it went up or down in the cool stakes when 20 minutes or so after we arrived, there was a mass influx of American band and crew members, although the place literally lifted off its feet. And got about 30 decibels louder when Randy Blythe walked through the door.

It was amusing as hell watching these guys let their hair down and the night that followed was pretty damn sweet. Notable highlights included chatting to Spud who was an absolutely sound guy (see what I did there. Oh, somebody please, stop me), chatting to Chris about his admirable devotion to his wife (don’t forget kids – it’s not cheating unless you’re Tweeting!), as well as discussing beer, hotels and crane-driving, watching Randy Blythe sitting in a kebab shop talking to some kids before heading back to the bus devouring some unidentifiable food as aggressively as if it were still alive, watching Willie Adler getting his groove on to some hip-hop before walking straight into a sandwich board and knocking it over on his way out of the pub, and generally just gaining a little insight into what metal bands actually do when they’re out on the town in another country. They hang out and have a beer, apparently. Who'd have thunk it.

DAY FIVE – Saturday 13th February

The final day of the tour loomed large, but we still had plenty to look forward to. After a brief and disturbing sleep in which I dreamt so realistically I woke up not sure what was real and what wasn’t, Dan and I set off down south in the Lambrover, sans Norwegians as they were travelling by train that day due to their hotel being in a considerably different area to ours.

The bad karma of yesterday’s journey was gone and we made great time despite the bloody 50mph speed restrictions (the M6 toll road actually gained us some time despite costing us money). We had a pit-stop at Dan’s country pad before catching a train into London where we had a mad dash from King’s Cross to our hotel and back again, and then to Brixton, where miraculously we arrived early enough to purchase a couple of beverages and have a giggle by the bus. It was a journey of about 6 legs and we managed it in just over 6 hours – go us!

After a chilly wait on what had to be number 1 of the top 5 coldest roads in Britain (yes folks, we’ve experienced them all this week!), we saw a familiar face. Campbell came over and said hi, checked we weren’t weirdos and hadn’t stabbed anybody and then invited us onto the bus, which was most hospitable of him, particularly as he offered us a beer. He couldn’t find his smokables which was a disappointment, but the short time we were there enabled us to view the rather plush surroundings that metal superstars are accustomed to these days – well, plush for a bus, anyway! It was warm, with comfy leather seats and mirrored walls and ceiling. My arse hadn’t felt anything nicer all week. It was also tidy and didn’t smell, both of which came as something of a shock to me.

Norwegians finally in tow, the lovely Spud took us inside the venue for the soundcheck. Stage -left by the sound desk, we were face-meltingly warm and had a view all the waiting faithful on the street outside would envy – the four musicians from Lamb of God rehearsing for that evening’s set! They played four songs which was more than we could have hoped for, including Descending and Vigil as promised (although we later found out they wouldn’t be putting them into the set after all – but at least we had heard them!) It was a shame that Randy’s reluctance to do soundchecks meant we had to provide vocals ourselves, but I can’t say we minded much as it goes. Rehearsal over, the guys all came over to say hello which was damn cool of them, they were probably just wondering when we would go away, but the way I see it, being recognised by your favourite band as a stalker still counts as being recognised! We even got the chance to have a proper chat with Willie outside the venue which was cool and I even managed to restrain myself and not squeeze him, which I’d been dying to do all week, I should have done it really – might not get another chance!

The pub then occurred – another leather sofa actually, and although not quite as comfortable, I still managed to sink into it and relax for a while. It was starting to hit home that we were coming to the end, felt a bit subdued so went to find some fast food and another beer.

Brixton Academy itself was packed, but we had taken the decision to stand well back and take it all in – and it was a good decision. Not that it helped much – being crushed in the pit or on the barrier might have stopped me from shedding a rather emo tear as ‘The Passing’ started up, I’m not ashamed, it had been a long and memorable week, and I snapped out of it once ‘In Your Words’ kicked in. Was just the right amount of pissed to bang my head and groove like a crazy mofo for the entirety of the gig, and it was probably the best of the week in terms of sound and lighting so it was good to be able to enjoy those from the comfort of a relatively remote position in the crowd. I got some great photos including what turned out to be a fairly lucky shot of the actual last moment of the tour – just that realisation put the lump right back in my throat, soppy mare.

We decided that we had said our goodbyes earlier and that any further stalking might result in a restraining order so we headed to Tottenham Court Road to sample the finest alternative establishments it had to offer, namely Intrepid Fox and Cro Bar, the latter of which was so crammed at the front I ended up sandwiched against the wall by MetalHammer editor Phil Alexander, who heard the tale of our adventure from Dan and seemed quite impressed! Then a wander back to out hotel via one of the most excellent (duuude) busking guitarists I’ve ever seen. We sat outside the hotel for a moment of reflection before rudely awakening the member of staff on Reception to ask him to allow us into the hotel, where I crashed for the final time.

EpiLOG

And so there it was. What had initially seemed like a whimsical way to spend a few days, had turned out to be one of the most memorable weeks of my life, and certainly my best ever experience with a band – such genuine, down to earth guys – I would be honoured to drink with them again, and hopefully in the not too distant future. On Sunday morning I discovered muscles in my neck that definitely weren’t there before, and reality hit home hard on Monday when I checked the damage to my bank balance and returned to the daily grind, but the memories will live on for a long time, and for the metallest week in my existence, I would like to thank the following people:

Dan – for being my ultimate tour buddy, with me from start to finish, one helluva cool dude and of course, son!
Ilona and Tone – for being great fun, getting me excited and making me realise the pure awesomeness of being on the barrier!
My other half – for tolerating this crazy notion, for getting me pissed in Newcastle, for his toastie-making skills and for making me giggle on Friday night
Spud – for being good company and an all-round cool dude, and hooking us up!
Lamb of God – for inspiring me to make this crazy trip, for bringing the metal on point five nights in a row, for being genuinely nice, humble guys and appreciating us as fans, and for laughs and good company on a few occasions. (And for not reporting us to the police for harassment at any point).
Claire – for keeping me company in the Rent-a-Hotel and getting down with us in Birmingham
John (DLF) – for being a fine host and showing us a great night out in Glasgow
Glasgow Security guy – for keeping an eye on me and sorting us out with a pick and setlist!
Howard Winchester Hotel, Kings Cross – for reminding us that everywhere isn’t as bad as Hatters Hostel in Manchester

Wrath Maths!! For those of you who were wondering, the numbers that matter….

Miles travelled – Almost 1,300 (600-ish in the Lambrover, 680 on the train)
Lamb of God gigs attended – 5
Crazy Norwegians – 2
Ciders consumed – 28
Bruised ribs – numerous
Crocked backs – 1
Pounds in weight lost –2
Items of clothing containing other men’s sweat – at least 14
Frost-bitten hands – 2
Metal magazine editors impressed – 1
What the hell’s going on here?! – 183

Gan Geordie – daily
Money spent – Could have been worse…!
Job For A Cowboy members names known – 0
Guaran-fucking-teed – 42
Mops fetched – numerous
Inane grins - infinity
Awesomeness factor out of 10 – 11
Exaggeration factor – 100 billion %

There are many more photos from the trip, if you want to check them out, here are the links...

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=392210&id=670500433&l=2495f9370d

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=392907&id=670500433&l=c08a251c84

Swallow the Sun @ Newcastle Academy 2, 5th December 2009

Oops - I wrote this before Christmas and forgot to post it for some reason! Here it comes...

Rounding off my most active gigging year ever was one of the lowest key shows of all, a veritable mini-lith (see what I did there?!) of Finnish doom-y goodness in Newcastle’s lovely little teeny tiny Academy 2. Unsurprisingly, it was even quieter than it had been a month previous for Paradise Lost and Katatonia, which was a shame as in my opinion, there were some gems on offer. I arrived early to escape the throng of slightly drunken football supporters staggering to the Bigg Market so caught the whole show – win win! Omnium Gatherum were first up. A melodic death six-piece with elements of thrash, they were a solid opener, playing a decent 40 minute set and getting the crowd warmed up, literally.

Next on were Insomnium. People seemed overly excited about this band; (I overheard a guy outside the venue afterwards saying he could die happy now!) the head-banging was fast, furious, and quite well choreographed both from the audience and the band, who themselves were juggernaut-heavy, pulling out a fine selection of songs from their latest album ‘Across the Dark’ and some from their previous offerings which went down a treat amongst the metal-hungry faithful. Really good stuff. I felt like I was really getting my money’s worth!

Swallow the Sun sloped onto the stage somewhat apologetically, before explaining that their drummer had been injured earlier in the day and wasn’t yet back from hospital, so Insomnium’s diminutive sticksman would be sitting in for him. They also said something or other about Omnium Gatherum’s keyboard player – who I think was standing in for theirs, although I’ve no idea where he was. Maybe he was too depressed to play. That’s what you get for being in a doom band. Sadly it was not the only hiccup in a set fraught with technical mishappery, including a persistent niggling and eventually knackered guitar and the sudden emergence around halfway through of the actual drummer, who seemed alright despite his injury. The heart and soul of the performance was delivered by lead guitarist Juha Raivio and bassist Matti Honkonen who were great to watch, as even lead singer Mikko Kotamaki seemed affected by the lacklustre crowd and the various other issues. I was really surprised to look behind me and see that the majority of Insomnium’s audience had retreated as I would have assumed that the headline band were the main draw, as they were for me, but it seems I was mistaken.

Despite everything, I thought the band sounded great. Highlights of their set included two songs from the beautiful ‘Plague of Butterflies’ EP, and tracks from latest release ‘New Moon’. The bass playing was mesmerising, the vocals were absolutely spot on, even the stand-in drummer did a really good job. It was just a shame as they really didn’t seem happy with how it went but these things can’t be helped. I will be there whenever they next play over here and hopefully will see a top-of-their-game Swallow the Sun – which based on tonight’s performance really will be a sight (and sound!) to behold.

Albums of the Year

It was going to be a top 10 but I couldn’t narrow it down any further. So here they are, in order – the gems of 2009, like pouring honey in your ears, guaranteed to make you all sticky and a bit deaf.

1. Hacride – Lazarus (May)
2. Lamb of God – Wrath (Feb)
3. Katatonia – Night is the New Day (Nov)
4. Guilt Machine – On This Perfect Day (Aug)
5. Amorphis – Skyforger (June)
6. Swallow the Sun – New Moon (Nov)
7. Alice in Chains – Black Gives Way to Blue (Sept)
8. Between the Buried and Me – The Great Misdirect (Oct)
9. Insomnium – Across the Dark (Sept)
10. Devin Townsend – Addicted (Nov)
11. Isis – Wavering Radiant (May)