Post by markwj on Jun 28, 2012 22:38:42 GMT
No Sabbath on the Sabbath for us but we once again made early doors on the Sunday, though none of us could talk much never mind pronounce Sublime Cadaveric Decomposition. Still, once they and the sound man had got into their stride the solid, structured death/grind was a good wake-up call. Added to by returning to tap into the hardcore energy of Lasting Values at the Warzone, bouncing around stage as they were with some punchy riffing to match. Returned to the Altar for handsome Italian death metal in the shape of Hour of Penance, who came across with a much better sound than when I’d caught them at Leeds Deathfest previously, and really hit the spot with their Behemoth style brutality. More traditional hardcore with the engaging female fronted All For Nothing before the urge for a midday siesta/feet-up hits like a hammer again. Nothing to perk you up better than the Brutal Truth though and again in spite of a weak overall sound and the more experimental aspects of some of their more recent stuff its still a rabid performance, always a treat to see Mr Hoak blasting away. The monstrous “Time” from their debut album shifted the tempos and was devastating bliss, for those of us that way inclined. A further dragging down in speed with a visit to Acid King in the Valley, back to monolithic doom riffing, with occasional melodic layer of vocals from the female guitarist of the three piece. On tour with St Vitus but I enjoyed them much more, with their Electric Wizard style sending me straight to the land of the nod. Like the afore mentioned Peelie discovering he’s been playing a 78 at 33rpm we are jerked back to harsh reality by another storming performance from Anaal Nathrakh, the Brummie black metallers mixing progressive with traditional in a beautiful cacophony. Drunk is fast becoming one of my favourite bass players for what he puts into the shows and there’s no doubting there authenticity when they say their previous show here (which I heard, but at the time I was unable to walk too ) was one of their best and Dave asking politely if they could have their photo taken at the end of this one in front of the crowd summed up the mutual appreciation. Not far at all to walk this time to further precise brutality from Dying Fetus. The US three-piece produce an incredible level of death ferocity, I’m not normally a fan of things that get too techy but they showed enough truth to their roots in the classics (as demonstrated by their recent covers album) that the riff offensive was a real winner.
The sun is out and its time to rest the weary feet on the main field in the presence of Blue Oyster Cult. Now I was of course familiar with “Don’t fear the Reaper” and precisely nothing else but a lot of people did give them props and lazing around having the craic they did provide perfectly pleasant summery background rock, as well as seeming to have their own tongues in cheek with their Swiss cheese guitar and mad songs like “Godzilla”. I wouldn’t go out of my way to see them but thanks to the organisers we have these kind of odd tangents that do at least give you different persepectives and memories to keep. Or Lock Up if you will, as rejuvenated (well, a few years off maybe) head in to see the next grind supergroup on offer at the Altar. If you already had Tomos At the Gates, and Nick Cradle/Dimmu but for some reason this time you couldn’t get Shane Napalm on bass why not replace him with Dan Brutal? Job done. The express train of straight forward machine gun riffing is topped off by the ever charismatic Tomos’ humble fronting, and to be honest I think Dan puts in an even better show than earlier. Over to Warzone as I know I’ll catch up with folks enjoying H20, and their bouncy and diverse hardcore comes across better than their own show in Wrexham not long back, though they still haven’t managed to lose that kid who hangs round with them! Seriously though, that son of the singer is without a doubt in it for life. Unless in his teenage rebellion he becomes a banker. Time for another cast iron guarantee with Suffocation at the Altar. Even with a fill-in vocalist they were immense at Liverpool recently but Frank Mullen is back in the house, all guns blazing, all hands chopping, all tongue flapping. They manage to get one of the best sounds of the weekend out of this tents system, devastatingly heavy, death metal destruction of the finest order. We are offered 3 ways to leave the place, the “Frank Mullen Special” involving a wodchipper, but when we eventually stagger out it is only to the relative relaxation of Madball, if that were at all possible. First chance for me to check them after a previous one had gone through a set-swap and whether it was formulaic or not I enjoyed the heaviness and energy of their NY hardcore, it kept the motors running. The last headliner was upon us and the heavens opened to (further) piss on the parade. Originally we were meant to be getting the reformed Black Sabbath but Tony Iommi’s cancer had put paid to that and instead it was Ozzy and Friendz. Spelt like that. Hmmm, didn’t we have Ozzy with some other friends last year? Oh well, rumours that Lemmy might be one of them made us endure to give it a chance but after one song and Ozzy saying his voice was going the omens were not good. Slash and Zak Wylde are not the stuff to impress me, neither is 10 minutes of drum and guitar solo. The worse nail in the coffin is the backing track of Ozzy’s vocal that he may or may not be singing along/miming with going out of sink. The only things to drag it up from the mire we were standing in and listening to was Geezer joining them to playing THE bass for a few Sabbath tunes, including the warbling intro to N.I.B. And we have great fun, with my drunken friends, singing our hearts out to these classics, as the memories of just how short changed we are wash away, literally as tears in the rain.
One more thing to wash everything away aurally is zipping over to catch the end of SunnO))) at the Valley, the ultimate bastardised son of Sabbath and for the few minutes of earth quaking drone, harsh screams and raised claws appearing from the mist on stage is probably exactly what had been going on for the proceeding hour. The few masochists left gathered back at the Warzone for another energetic finale provided by Biohazard. Probably best part of a couple of decades since I saw these in Buckley, or bouncing through the stage downstairs at the Royal Court Liverpool, but they are a literally slimmed down and streamlined fighting unit now. And they generate enough heat from their metallic hardcore in the tent without the bizarre addition of a random fire juggler appearing in the pit! Good to hear some of the old stuff from “Urban Discipline” and they finish with a great stage invasion leaving the whole thing on a high. A last warm by the firepits and some Belgians dissing the rain in Wales while I diss… well, Belgium before we retire hurt but happy once more.
Our worries over the reorganised festival proved unfounded, it remained a superbly set up and organised event and the quality and quantity of the alternative bands seemed absolutely peerless. Relatively poor headliners and the slightly noticeable increase in numbers attending over last year were the only downsides, but they were far outweighed by good. Those returning and those there anew all raved about it, and we avowed to seek ever more fresh troops for our expeditionary force next year. Sign up, your conts need you!
The sun is out and its time to rest the weary feet on the main field in the presence of Blue Oyster Cult. Now I was of course familiar with “Don’t fear the Reaper” and precisely nothing else but a lot of people did give them props and lazing around having the craic they did provide perfectly pleasant summery background rock, as well as seeming to have their own tongues in cheek with their Swiss cheese guitar and mad songs like “Godzilla”. I wouldn’t go out of my way to see them but thanks to the organisers we have these kind of odd tangents that do at least give you different persepectives and memories to keep. Or Lock Up if you will, as rejuvenated (well, a few years off maybe) head in to see the next grind supergroup on offer at the Altar. If you already had Tomos At the Gates, and Nick Cradle/Dimmu but for some reason this time you couldn’t get Shane Napalm on bass why not replace him with Dan Brutal? Job done. The express train of straight forward machine gun riffing is topped off by the ever charismatic Tomos’ humble fronting, and to be honest I think Dan puts in an even better show than earlier. Over to Warzone as I know I’ll catch up with folks enjoying H20, and their bouncy and diverse hardcore comes across better than their own show in Wrexham not long back, though they still haven’t managed to lose that kid who hangs round with them! Seriously though, that son of the singer is without a doubt in it for life. Unless in his teenage rebellion he becomes a banker. Time for another cast iron guarantee with Suffocation at the Altar. Even with a fill-in vocalist they were immense at Liverpool recently but Frank Mullen is back in the house, all guns blazing, all hands chopping, all tongue flapping. They manage to get one of the best sounds of the weekend out of this tents system, devastatingly heavy, death metal destruction of the finest order. We are offered 3 ways to leave the place, the “Frank Mullen Special” involving a wodchipper, but when we eventually stagger out it is only to the relative relaxation of Madball, if that were at all possible. First chance for me to check them after a previous one had gone through a set-swap and whether it was formulaic or not I enjoyed the heaviness and energy of their NY hardcore, it kept the motors running. The last headliner was upon us and the heavens opened to (further) piss on the parade. Originally we were meant to be getting the reformed Black Sabbath but Tony Iommi’s cancer had put paid to that and instead it was Ozzy and Friendz. Spelt like that. Hmmm, didn’t we have Ozzy with some other friends last year? Oh well, rumours that Lemmy might be one of them made us endure to give it a chance but after one song and Ozzy saying his voice was going the omens were not good. Slash and Zak Wylde are not the stuff to impress me, neither is 10 minutes of drum and guitar solo. The worse nail in the coffin is the backing track of Ozzy’s vocal that he may or may not be singing along/miming with going out of sink. The only things to drag it up from the mire we were standing in and listening to was Geezer joining them to playing THE bass for a few Sabbath tunes, including the warbling intro to N.I.B. And we have great fun, with my drunken friends, singing our hearts out to these classics, as the memories of just how short changed we are wash away, literally as tears in the rain.
One more thing to wash everything away aurally is zipping over to catch the end of SunnO))) at the Valley, the ultimate bastardised son of Sabbath and for the few minutes of earth quaking drone, harsh screams and raised claws appearing from the mist on stage is probably exactly what had been going on for the proceeding hour. The few masochists left gathered back at the Warzone for another energetic finale provided by Biohazard. Probably best part of a couple of decades since I saw these in Buckley, or bouncing through the stage downstairs at the Royal Court Liverpool, but they are a literally slimmed down and streamlined fighting unit now. And they generate enough heat from their metallic hardcore in the tent without the bizarre addition of a random fire juggler appearing in the pit! Good to hear some of the old stuff from “Urban Discipline” and they finish with a great stage invasion leaving the whole thing on a high. A last warm by the firepits and some Belgians dissing the rain in Wales while I diss… well, Belgium before we retire hurt but happy once more.
Our worries over the reorganised festival proved unfounded, it remained a superbly set up and organised event and the quality and quantity of the alternative bands seemed absolutely peerless. Relatively poor headliners and the slightly noticeable increase in numbers attending over last year were the only downsides, but they were far outweighed by good. Those returning and those there anew all raved about it, and we avowed to seek ever more fresh troops for our expeditionary force next year. Sign up, your conts need you!