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

M

\m/

Wormgrind?

After the abomination that was February's gig attendance, I'm hoping March is going to be less of a catastrophic failure. This month I'm lucky enough to have British metallers Malefice playing about a ten minute walk from my house, which is going to be pretty fucking special (providing the home town can deliver a better turnout than we did with Madball). These guys made it into my top ten of 2009 with their second album Dawn Of Reprisal and I've only seen them live once in the past, so one is particularly excited, innit.

Then it's the perpetually hated Trivium, with support coming from the excellent Chimaira and Whitechapel. So all in all, good things are on the horizon. Best not jinx it though...

The mighty Maiden have confirmed that their new album, without doubt the most anticipated release of 2010, will be called The Final Frontier. I can already foresee me, Shithouse and Bandy camping outside the local HMV on release day (which is as yet TBC) as I'm nowhere near an important enough music hack to get a preview copy. Although if anyone from their management is reading this, I will do anything to get my hands on it. Anything (cue horrendous and scarring image of me being sexy and seductive).

One of the most frustrating things about the last week is BBC director general Mark Thompson's proposed closure of BBC 6Music. For those of you who don't know, 6Music is a DAB radio station in the UK that delivers a genuine mix of music on a daily basis. They may not have a plethora of metal on their playlists but you can expect a healthy chunk of G'n'R, Maiden, Metallica, and the like. Plus, I got a massive rouge throbber this week when DJ Steve Lamacq span the Leatherface classic Do The Right Thing. That man deserves a fucking OBE as I didn't think anyone after the legendary John Peel would ever adorn the airwaves with the wonders of Sunderland's finest punk legends. So do me a favour; sign this petition as it may be the only way to prevent me having to listen to Lady Gaga and Girls Aloud all day in the office.

Album of the week for me has to be Wormrot's latest beauty Abuse. 23 songs,including eloquently titled So Fierce For Fuck!?, Shitlack and Fuck...I'm Drunk, this quality album is over and done with in about 20 minutes. I can honestly say that Wormrot are my favourite grindcore band from Singapore, without a doubt.

(Must digress briefly as I've got my non-Apple MP3 on shuffle at the mo and NOFX Don't Call Me White has just come one. What. A. Fucking. Tune.)

My festival update:

Sonisphere - Skunk Anansie, Funeral For A Friend, Apocalyptica, Fighstar, Apocalyptica, Gallows

Download - no announcement

Download wins, purely as I have never been less interested by announcement than Sonisphere's this week. A few good bands there but hardly enough to make you need a bit of locked-door private time.

And on that note, I bid you adieu. Oh, and check out the latest installment of my column on MetalasFuck; I know you've nothing better to do.

Have a fucking brutal weekend

M

\m/

Fun in public toilets

I like Guinness a lot. The rich, silky, slightly metallic taste, the deep, peaty aroma; everything about it is right. Problem is, the day after indulging in a number of these darkened treats you tend to feel like you're being violently raped in the head by a moose whilst having to control a stomach hell bent of leaving your arse with kidneys, liver and eyeballs in tow.

To summarise, I have a hangover. But lo, good things have happened this week, the main being New York hardcore legends Madball announcing a 20th anniversary UK tour, which inexplicably includes a 250-capacity converted public toilet about five minutes from my flat. Combine this with a couple of tickets to see Trivium in March 2010, supported by the awesome Chimaira and unbelievably brutal Whitechapel and all in all, happy fucking days.

It's largely accepted that liking Trivium is uncool amongst the metal elitist penises but I'll say it loud and proud - I really like Trivium (fair enough that wasn't particularly loud but it's the best I can muster). Having seen them a number of times, including a tiny London gig that raised the bar hugely("And then it happened...again", December 12th 2008), they always put on an awesome show so fuck you, alright? This being said, my main reason for bruising the ol' credit card is Whitechapel. Ever since hearing This Is Exile and almost starting to cry due to it's sheer savagery, I've been keen to see if the over-stringed guitar weilders can do the same at a live show. Most folks say yes but until it's proven, I'm reserving judgement.

As I'm a lucky bastard, I've secured a copy of Amon Amarth's Versus the World Reissue, which if it's anything like The Crusher Reissue, is going to peel my face of and replace it with the severed beard of a fallen Viking warlord.

If I may rant briefly, I'm pissed off with Atreyu. The new album Congregation of the Damned was released this week and being a bit gay for Atreyu, I got a substantial sense of scrotal tightening when I saw that for one day only, the album was available for download at the handsome price of $3.99. I don't normally download albums as I like everything about CDs (which I suppose is old fashioned now?) but for £1.50, I'd have to be an indescribable cunt not to, eh? So I set up the Amazon download tool thingy, clicked on "buy", did all that nonsense, only to be informed that the offer was only open to the USA. Rubbish. So if anyone from Atreyu is reading this (ha!) send me a copy or I'll whinge further. Or I'll just go and buy it, to be honest.

Oh, and cheers to the folk at Rock Radio for thinking my shit is good enough to have on their site - my blog on there will be updated a couple of times a month with yet more insightful wonderings from an opinionated drunk. There's a load of other cool shit on there so click on the link and have a gander.

Got to run - Guinness revenge.

Ciao

M

\m/

Hardcore and prescription medicine

So Monday finally arrived and after a substantial drought in the land of giggage, I once again got to feel the sweaty embrace of other men in the wondrous pit at Daath/Throwdown/Unearth/Chimaira at London's Electric Ballroom. My hardcore ally Si-KO couldn't make it so there I was, all by myself, drinking snakebite and black and trying to avoid the world's drunkest man from emptying the contents of his pint glass and stomach into my hoody.

Daath opened proceedings with the room at about 40% capacity yet lead singer Sean Zatorsky, who looks like something between Jesus and a heroin tramp, managed to get a pretty noticeable pit going within a couple of songs, as well as gesticulating that their guitarist was a total wanker during one extended solo. Their hardcore-mit-death style set an awesome pace for the evening and with the aid of the ol' snakey 'n' blacks I felt my head start to nod.

Since hearing Venom and Tears and Haymaker, and catching a bit of their live set at Download 2008, I've been keen on a bit of Throwdown so thought this would be a good time to chug a couple of pints and get involved in the pit. Down to the front I went with pockets rammed with t-shirt, phone, MP3, travel card, hoody round my waste, and shoes adequately secured after the Rise Against incident ("The pits", March 10th 2009). I cannot remember a single song they played apart from Holy Roller as to be honest, I was too busy going retard-fuck-spazzingly mental. The pit wasn't as mad as something like Machine Head but it was well executed, concentrated bursts of violence. Dave Peters and I made eye contact long enough for my hand gestures and shouts of "CIRCLE PIT" to get a the big man's approval, and so the bedlam continued. A burst of songs from Vendetta and new album Deathless were complimented by Peters' constant crowd surfing and encouraging those underneath him to help out with some of the singing (well, shouting). And then it ended and I realised I was beyond knackered. Too old for this shit.

Standing at the bar afterwards, a couple of lads came up to me and said "mate, you were going mental at the front!" - yes, yes I was kids. For I have done this sort of thing before. They then pointed out I had blood on my face; a quick check for injuries revealed it wasn't mine. Yummy.

Whilst surviving the pit for Throwdown's whole set was awesome, I was a wee bit worse for wear on the other side so decided to have a little rest for Unearth, who played an absolutely punishing few numbers, taking songs from The Oncoming Storm and even further back, whilst frontman Trevor Phipps managed to keep the insane bastards still in the pit going fucking ballistic, encouraging them to get over the top (much to the annoyance of the security guards). Drummer Derek Kerswill's kick was so brutal that I regularly felt I was going to shit my pants and being as this wasn't a GG Allin gig, I thought that may have been frowned upon.

I was talking to Alexander Milas from Metal Hammer in the beautiful smoking area when I realised I was rapidly approaching the threshold of "better fuck off or you're not getting home sunshine" so had to duck out after Chimaira had only played four songs. Which frankly sucked, as the room was off the chizz-ain. With Darude's 90s trance number Sandstorm playing erroneously over the PA just before Fuck Your Power Trip kicked in, shoes, spit, blood, bodies, everything was flying all over the shop and vocalist Mark Hunter was genuinely humbled by the scene.

On the plus side, Chimaira are playing with Whitechapel and Trivium in March so at least I'll be able to catch a full set then.

All I can say is "fuck me". The absolute fury of these bands on stage created one of the most volatile, high-intensity rooms I've ever been in. But despite this, and with the exception of one guy getting chinned by a complete cunt in the pit, there was no hint of anything nasty outside the circle. A fucking top show by fucking top bands. Good work; carry on.

So the floodgates have opened. Tomorrow is Malefice, Behemoth, Suicide Silence, Trigger the Bloodshed and the mighty godlike DevilDriver. The one problem is that due to my hardcore mental pit monkey slam gnarliness, I've fucked my back up big time. Sleep for the last two nights has been aided by beer and Diazepam, which go together like razor blades and aspirin, so happy days. But once Dez and the boys get going, I'm not sure there's going to be anything that'll fix me afterwards.

I'm off to do some calisthenics. Either that or my next post will probably from my wheelchair.