Gigs

Gig Review: Himsa + A Life Once Lost + Too Pure To Die + Ted Maul

Venue: Barfly, Birmingham
Date: 14 March 2008

Ted Maul’s scary-as-fuck vocalist, Solomon J. Lucifer Christ, is firing off that powerfully deep roar of his as he stomps about the stage grunting encouragement every now and then at the sparse numbers all fanned out at the rear of the venue. The odd paying customer has been tempted forward and is jumping about enthusiastically but their hearts just aren’t in it – the clear signs are their hasty glances behind to see if any mates have followed. No matter, because the band’s blazing primordial soup of death metal and drum n’ bass requires no gimmicks and no encouragement – it’s mental enough already.

Too Pure To Die blast onto stage with frontman Paul Zurlo sporting an armless tee, white headband and swinging a rag. He resembles an Olympic gymnast with a security blanket but he’s certainly wearing his heart on his sleeve. He verbally assaults the few present throughout the bands set. “Get… the fuck… forward”, he demands. Few oblige which is rather disappointing but they rip into their conflagration of spasmodic metal-inflected hardcore with abandon. Finally, they get a response from a quartet of straight-edge fans who step into the gap between stage and crowd and fervently perform a series of windmills, 2-steps and kicks. It’s quite a show and the band pick up on it burning off their own energy as they go into a sequence of united pogoing, sweat pouring down their faces – they certainly can’t be faulted for effort.

A Life Once Lost slowly set up and the crowd begins to build. Frontman Bob Meadows is carefully setting up his mic out front unaware of the confusion that is to follow. The band clear the stage and seconds later tear on at full pelt. Snake Sustaine’s guitar dominates and we slowly realise he’s drowning out the second guitar and, woe of woes, he’s also swamped Meadows’ vocal. The monitors might be nicely set up but, shit, out front it sounds a mess. Meadows sans spectacles, a mass of hair and sporting a fluorescent tee, is busting a gut to destroy the mic in his hand but resembles a squeaking mouse out front as Sustaine blissfully pings swathes of throbbing open chords at us. It takes about four songs before the soundman even begins to correctly align it all. Finally we hear Robert Carpenter’s wailing harmonics and the charismatic frontman’s brutal roar.

‘Freewater Joyride’ and ‘Detest’ are identifiable but mostly get lost somewhere between the stage and the barrier. It’s a real shame as these tracks should be the most powerful of the night. ‘Worship’, at least, hits us like a speeding train with its crushing double-kick drums and anthemic riffs and lyrics. Meadows staggers about, lost in the music, stamping on each of his bandmates’ toes in turn, before climbing up on the PA, fixing the crowd with a mesmeric stare, all the while belting out his bruising vocals. Sustaine is the complete opposite, stock still, foot on monitor, biker ‘tache thrust forward as he kisses the sky. It’s great to hear the ‘Hunter’ album getting an airing too with ‘Rehashed’ and ‘Needleman’ (we think) washing over us. Himsa’s John Pettibone can stand it no more and breaks free from his place in the wings and the boys from Philly end on a high. Now bring me the head of the guy in the booth!

The most tactile band in America? Himsa could well have earned that title tonight. The band start up and Pettibone immediately leaps the barrier and begins a pit of his own. The crowd squeeze in for a closer look and suddenly the room seems just that little bit fuller. Up on stage the giant bassist, Derek Harn, is in classic rock pose, legs astride, violently windmilling his hair. There’s a battle of the t-shirts going on between the guitarists; Guns N’ Roses versus Borat. Borat appears to be winning for sheer audacity but eventually the fact that Sammi Curr hasn’t gone for the generic ‘Appetite For Destruction’ album tee wins him bonus points and the title. Our bearded hero is now up on top of the barrier, precariously balancing, held in place by the fans. Wobbling away, he never stops belting that demonic roar of his and we fear for his safety. He leaps down and spends almost the rest of the set pinned to the barrier at one with his fans. He starts ripping hats and specs from them, briefly adorning himself, then returning them with a deferential nod and a crazed beam.

‘Big Timber’ goes down a treat but ‘Pestilence’ is king with it’s pistol-whip riffs and colossal double-kicks. One fan gets completely carried away and pops up on stage. He holds his arms wide before contemplating a stage-dive into a scattered pit. Smashed-in face, ambulance, hmmm. Thankfully, he’s prevented from a bent nose by a worried photographer. Pettibone, meanwhile, is now posing for photos, high-fiving all and sundry, and playing pass-the-parcel with his microphone. Tonight, he’s either proved to us to be a fucked-up mentalist or actually a very canny chap. You decide, but consider this… he’s been the catalyst for the crowd’s emotional change - from aloof to responsive. He’s given us all something to smile about, the urge to sing and dance, to basically enjoy ourselves and ultimately remember him, his band and their music. John Pettibone has single-handedly saved the gig from the precipice of disappointment - what a guy.

For fans of: Lamb Of God, The Agony Scene, Darkest Hour
Band links = Himsa / A Life Once Lost / Too Pure To Die / Ted Maul

Bookmark to:

Previous & Next