Noxagt finally appeared on stage without a word. It wasn’t until then that I realised they’ve shed their viola player, in favour of a guitarist.
Four years ago, a man named Malcolm had a vision — that he could put on a festival in his Catford flat, with all his mates’ bands playing in his living room. Now in its fourth year, Malcfest continued to grow, surpassing all previous expectations.
There’s nothing more impulsive in music right now than Deerhoof, an angular pop band that will throw books at you from a library full of strange variants and catchy, catchy tunes.
the two Ex Models launched at intervals into the staccato high-pitched vocals and careful guitar call and responses which have made the band so interesting
We caught up with Buzz Osbourne (Guitar, Vocals) for an insight into the intricacies of a marriage The Melvins have made with music for over twenty years.
The Architects boys can really play, they are incredibly tight and mix some big riffs with some great technical and math parts, and they are still young — lucky bastards.
and so although Cove may continue in some form or another, this was the last to chance to catch the storming behemoth before a third of its body fell off.
before the band start the PA blares out Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man” and the guitarist/singer is seen on top of the speaker bending over underneath the roof miming along like an ecstatic crazy
What Under The Influence Of Giants is doing is far from a mesmeric concoction of clever musical patterns and phantasmagoric songwriting.
The chickenhead-dressed man makes music using his Nintendo games systems, alongside very hard and heavy beats which he then screams over.
Unfortunately, there seemed to be a lack of the paramount Fingathing usually find some three quarters of the way through their show — a zenith that usually exposes itself during the intensity of the track “Superhero Music”.
The anger and blatant vexation in guitarist/vocalist/cacophonist Angus Andrew is strangely offered in insouciant wrappings; the man pissed with a million things often presented himself in a relaxed manner. There were of course violent outbursts of giving his guitar the pleasure of touching the ceiling, and apparently being dissatisfied with drumsticks, he’d use a microphone to smack a cymbal when he felt like it.
I then discovered that the times I didn’t hear such apparent splendour, were times in which I simply couldn’t hear what the fuck he was saying — the lyrics were impeded by intoxicated slurs and whimsical ulilations.
The set was one hour-and-a-half-long intense and engulfing sub-bass assault with a complete wall of wave after wave of the most down-tuned guitar distortion, accompanied by fuzzy white noise and various affecting sounds and howling screeches.
Swelling drones initiated the appearance of the band and for the next two and a half hours came a doomy onslaught of awesomely apocalyptic post-metal.
The robotic central groove of the song had people ducking and jiving in a convulsive manor, as if something was battling to escape from deep inside.
They came onto the stage. They said nothing.
There was then a hastening within this extraordinary collective; they began to form their presentimental prerogative, a seemingly telepathic energy that ultimately enables them to never fail in one of the most prolific doom metal cohesions. For this reason, there would have to be an imbalance in the electro magnetic field of the relevant venue — for it surely is telepathy that constructs the insane coherence featured in the live performance of ISIS.
All comparisons to the The Futureheads should be swept aside, Maximo Park are on their own road. Bring on the album.
It’s certainly more interesting than yet another bastard twanging a guitar; accompanied by drums played in a flat four claiming to be ‘innovative’.
As Beck strummed on his hollowed out instrument, his band took a short siesta, sitting down at a table on stage, complete with food and glasses of wine.