Originally published in Beat Magazine, March 2010, www.beatmagazine.co.uk
Feed the Rhino (Picture courtesy of Sam Muckley)
Last Friday at the Firestation was not for the lighthearted. With a whole night dedicated to hardcore punk/metal, or ‘metalcore’ (no I didn’t just make that up, go ask wiki), three bands screamed inaudible, angry lyrics along to heavy, fast guitars in front of manic fans.
The monthly night, called Days of Last, is run by Kane Leighton-Pope, son of a music agent to the stars who is out to prove himself as the next top industry figure. So far he has got his heart, and mind, in the right place.
Days of Last aims to showcase established punk/metal/rock bands as well as giving a platform to local bands and artists. The formula being: a professional band headlines, while a handful of local bands play as support acts.
“It gives local bands a chance to see their favourite bands as well as a chance to actually play with professional bands,” says Leighton-Pope.
“The [local] bands really get involved, they’re out there promoting the gig as well as playing.”
Arriving at Friday night’s gig I see a foreign breed of music fan come out of the woodwork. Clad in skintight, low-slung trousers (boys), fishnet tights, peroxide blonde hair and red lipstick (girls), with disheveled hair (non-gender specific), these ‘alt’ kids (that means ‘alternative’ for all you oldies), are a sight not often seen in Windsor.
Which, again, is all part of the night’s ethos, says Leighton-Pope. “It’s not just about giving kids a place to play, but also giving them a place to come for a night out.”
In an attempt to not loose face in front of the alt kids who are much cooler than I am (I’m the one folding up my full-sized brolly on arrival and ordering a sparkling water), I turn up fashionably late and miss the first band.
And from then on the night plays out like the evolution of a metalcore band from conception to stardom, with each of the three groups of the same genre representing a stage of the process.
First up is Sailors Grave, a four-piece from Slough who’d probably get ID’d at the bar. But despite their youthful appearance, they know what they’re doing.
The lead singer rips into the mic with a torrent of teenage angst, whilst the other band members throw themselves around the stage with all the energy of a fireworks display. The frontman is screaming with: passion? Fury? Anguish? Only one line is decipherable: “Can’t you see, you’ll be the death of me.” I’m guessing he’s either talking about girls or A-levels.
Mid-set we learn that this is Sailors Grave’s first gig and that the drummer has stepped in last minute. It’s impressive, since the band is solid, skilled and interacts well together.
Sailors Grave (Picture courtesy of Sam Muckley
They may be just stepping onto the evolutionary ladder, but these guys show all the signs of becoming a great metalcore band: energy, anger and a good screamer. A few more late nights on the town (when he’s old enough!) and the lead singer will have a voice that sounds as gravelly as rocks in a cement mixer.
Next up, and five-ish years up the metalcore evolutionary ladder is Golden Tanks from Reading. This band have been together for almost six months and have already toured a good portion of southern England in that time, and they’ve got the professionalism to show for it.
Once again, the energy is in your face, with the band spending just as much time in the crowd (and with the crowd on their backs!) as on stage.
The lead singer has got his growling screams down to a T, undoubtedly with a good few more years of drinking and smoking under his belt. He prowls around the front of the stage with all the menace of a lion about to strike.
And, damn, can these guys play. Amongst awesome guitar solos the band deftly handles style and tempo changes, all the while head banging and leaping around the stage. In keeping with the point of the night, they are a great band for Sailors Grave to aspire to be.
Finally, we come to the headlining act. Feed the Rhino are a London-based band who are fast making their name on the metalcore scene. Signed to an independent label and again, a few years older than Golden Tanks, they are standing atop our evolutionary ladder.
The lead singer, stocky and bushy-bearded, looks like a sailor. Until he opens his mouth. Like a rumbling coming from the deep the perfected growl bursts forth and dominates the room, much like its owner’s presence.
Feed the Rhino take technical skill up a notch, playing with strange time signatures and rhythms. Yet while technically sound the instrumentalists lack a little of the energy of the bands on the rungs below them, but still manage some furious wheeling and head bobbing.
In fact, it would appear that a monster bigger than the one in the lead singer’s throat has taken hold of this band: the fame monster, and it has eaten some of their spirit.
The instrumentalists seem a little too preoccupied with looking professional by not tripping over their guitar leads and steering clear of the crazed fans (who are dancing like arachnophobes in the jungle at this point), to be wholly believable and in truth Golden Tanks put on a better show.
Despite this drawback, the lead singer still holds all the fury of his schoolboy counterpart in Sailors Grave, but with one difference. It is not teenage angst that is putting fire in this man’s eyes and throwing him to the ground in bouts of self-expression, but a wholly different torment. Rent payments? Marriage troubles? The unending burden of adult life?
Well, whatever it is, screaming on stage sure is cheaper than therapy.
