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Friday, 26 March 2010

Trivium are better than you

A good friend of mine once told me that seeing Whitechapel live would make me shit. Last week I had the opportunity to find out for myself and whilst I didn't physically manufacture any hard farts, I could feel a definite wobbling of the colon.

With Trivium headlining and Chimaira in the second slot, Whitechapel had the unenviable task of opening. I got ready in the only way I know how; by standing at the bar and pounding beers with Killerleah (this was her first metal show at a proper venue but her second Trivium experience) before Hot Chick turned up. The barmaid felt the need to tell me I was the oldest person they'd seen there. Cheers.

Whitechapel came out and immediately went so fucking hard it was unbelievable. After one song the room had started to fill and there was a mental circle pit, stuff was flying all over the shop; it's the first time I've seen an opening band get this kind of response. Lead singer Phil Bozeman isn't the biggest bloke in the world but the noise he makes is bloody horrific. Chimaira had to play an absolute blinder to follow them. Thankfully they did, and the inevitable but epic sing-a-long during Resurrection caused me to sustain a pretty handsome rock-on.

Being a Trivium fan, I've always thought their live shows are shit hot but let's be honest; there's no fucking way they can compete with Whitechapel and Chimaira in terms of heaviness. Incorrect, you penises! Matt Heafy, with his enormous face/hair combo, has stopped pussying out of the screaming vocals (although Corey Beaulieu does add a bit of extra meat when necessary) and has reinstated his position as a solid frontman.

I couldn't resist getting stuck in so stripped down to the ol' vest and got involved. The pit was packed; it was hard to get a circle going but we metallers are a dedicated bunch. I was also pretty impressed by the amount of younglings going over the top during Like Light To Flies with little or no regard for their beautiful hair. My second crowd surf was somewhat hindered when fucking Moses turned up and parted the crowd, leading me to fall and land on my elbows. That was an enjoyable feeling.

It was one of the best gigs I've been to in many moons. Three bands with very different sounds, all one top form, epically sweaty pit, crowd surfing, a million beers, partial nudity, almost having a little cry when I smashed my bones into the floor; what more do you want? Huh? Exactly.

I'm off to try and shake this hangover. Can't decide if I'm going to puke or shit myself. Whichever, should probably find a toilet.

Ciao slutbags



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