Shit from the pit

Here's the third shoddy collection of even shoddier pics taken with an alcohol-fuelled shoddy iPhone. 

If the above widgetty thing isn't working, then click here

Clearly, it’s not some kind of high art or pro quality photo journalistic tour de force. more like a pissed haze captured on the hoof while jigging, jostling, jagering and joyously sweating on the cider-sticky floors of gloomy stygian rooms filled with passionate noise and passion. 

The image quality is questionable, but the moments themselves often magical and moving.

All the images are copyright free so feel free to steal, borrow, circulate, or to get tattooed on your buttocks, genitals or face. 

I still can’t quite put into words how i stilll get off on the dirty, nosiy, honest and 
heart-warming bands, acts, characters and assholes who ply their trades with integrity and dedication in shit bunkers up and down the country, night after night. hopefully this latest battered and bruised collection of images goes at least half way to capturing the mereset whiff of the soul, sentiment and smell of just some of the acts i’ve been lucky enough to haul my old arse in front of over the last few months. 

Enjoy.

Pit pics. 2013's live music in pics.

So, it's almost the end of what's been a stunning year for live and (mostly) loud music. 

Here's a book-type thing I've scrambled together of some of my favourite pissed iPhone shots from just some of the shows I've been lucky enough to have been at.

They're shaky, sketchy and shambolic but from the hip and the heart. Have a look through and you may even regurgitate the taste of Jager, Sailor Jerry's or cider from a plastic glass.

Big love to all the bands. The pics are all free to steal, share make into chest piece tats or put on commemorative mugs.

Karnage in Camden - Live review of Karnivool and TesseracT at KOKO

Karnivool *****
TesseracT *****

Koko, Camden, Thursday 21st November

It's time to dive into the winter wardrobe as the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness meanders into the chilly heart of winter. So, what's in the cupboard to keep us warmed?

TesseracT *****

First up are a curious outfit with, on the face of it, well-worn leather and denim but underneath, a challenging and tight PVC thong spiked with shards of steel and doused in deep heat or bleach. Then, like some retro sci-fi B-Movie costume, topped with some sort of cod futuristic shiny space helmet. All a bit weird.

TesseracT are a definitely strange mix. Progressive metal (if that's what it is) is a genre that's kind of got away from me. Add in the obligatory djent bombast and downtuned, hi-gain chugs and punches and the obfuscation only gets more bewildering.



A pretty much full Koko doesn't seem to mind the mismatched eccentricity however and a boisterous and eager early crowd rubberneck and gawp at the explosive couture like the alikadoos and liggers at the catwalk in fashion week. Without the Bolly dahlink. Obviously.


The playing is tighter than a deep sea squid's ringpiece with all manner of polyrhythmic reveries glued together with thunderous bass and precision skin thumping. And there's lots of hair. But now that Ashe O'Hara has imbued the whole output with high quality, clean and melodic crooning, the whole costume has become super-slick; maybe, arguably a little too slick.

It's undeniably brilliantly played and performed throughout - these guys are technically top drawer, it just seems to lack a little edge. The shards of glass and rusty steel need to be rubbed in to the genitals a bit more. It comes over more Jermyn Street silk boxers than tight PVC with a fuck off codpiece.

Still, a great kick off to this evening's parade. If not a little bewildering.

Karnivool *****

It's been a while since we've seen the Aussie proggers on our shores. And marking the launch of their recent tour de force Asymmetry, 'the Vool' finally bring their antipodean dress code out for a catwalk unveiling.

The new album gets a decent airing this evening with 7 or 8 of its tunes welded into the set alongside many old favourites (but no bloody Roquefort, sadly!). And from the off, it's easy to see that they've worked bloody hard on the tailoring and finish.

It's all exquisitely presented, but with enough added 'liveness' to avoid it being a soulless or slavishly flawless run-through of the factory-made prototypes. 

The sound is perfect but not clinical; there's enough of a ragged edge to proceedings to get the heart pounding and not just the head nodding and beard stroking. Saying that, because of the dominance of the new material which obviously hasn't had much time to seep into even the most ardent fan's soft tissue, it takes a while to get going and it's not really until we're treated to the magnificent Themata that things kick off.

It's always a difficult balance; do you open wearing a big old favourite jumper or try something with the label still in the back that you're obviously fiercely proud of and want to show it off? Tonight, the new pair of knickers are the opening choice and, I'm not overly sure it was quite the right choice. 

While the songs on the magnificent album are all of the highest quality you'd come to expect from these WA wizards, they're generally more in the 'grower not a shower' camp -  and until openers The Last Few and AM War have become established favourites and generate the sing backs that Goliath and Simple Boy do, then maybe they should be tantalisingly revealed after the comfy jumper is provocatively peeled off.

That said, tonight's show is fervently and enthusiastically devoured by a lively and loved-up crowd. The best and most accessible new shoes are already becoming new favourites and We Are and The Refusal fit seamlessly among the tried and tested.

The main set does finish rather anticlimatically though with Aeons and it's only when the crowd notice the band aren't actually on stage any more that they realise they ought to politely ask for more. Which is delivered with an amuse bouche in the atmospheric but hardly toe-tapping Alpha Omega followed by the song of the night, the mighty set closer New Day which finally sets fire to this particular Camden hive and turns the packed faux-rococo room into a massive dopamine-drenched karaoke box.

All-in-all a beautifully produced and performed show which dutifully aired the latest creations but was maybe a tad light on the staples and trusted favourites. Or maybe just needed the order tweaking. Gorgeous stuff though. And I didn't mention Tool once. Er...

Safety catch - The Safety Fire Live at The Garage

The Safety Fire ***1/2**
Zoax*****
Upstairs at The Garage, Islington, Wednesday 4th September

A warm night in a tiny, sweaty scout hut. Now all we need is some loud rock and roll.

Zoax*****

As if by magic Zoax appear,

Fronted by the engaging and affable Oirishman Adam Carroll who looks unnervingly like Robbie Williams with a strong, enormous hipster beard, the rag-bag quintet take to the tiny stage and deliver a loud, brash, entertaining bag of bombs that veers somewhere between A Day To Remember, LetLive, Black Flag and is even spiced up with scents and hints of Defeater.

And it works. Despite the weird and wooly rag and bone yard of disparate influences, there's enough originality here to raise an eyebrow or two. An enthusiastic crowd laps up moments of old skool metalcore, New Jersey Hardcore, tech metal and bollocks-out punkiness. There's even a bit of Oirish scat/rap (well talking really) thrown in.

Carroll is a born front man, getting right in the bosom of the crowd, firing off quick witted snaps and quips and looks totally at home. His voice ranges between deep, spitfire engine growls and roars to lighter, more melodic stretches. All backed by some fearsome noise, rhythms and, at times, quite techy playing from his bandmates balanced on the low coffee table-sized rostrum.

All good stuff. Look forward to seeing them again in a proper sized venue.

The Safety Fire ***1/2**
As the splendid new Karnivool album being played on the PA fades down, the crowd raises its own noise and welcomes Sean McWeeney and his tech troubadours onto the McWeeniest stage in Christendom. 

I'm never sure about this venue. It really has the vibe of a church hall or scout hut with its low, oppressive roof and tiny stage, which is almost a floor show. And I've never really experienced good sound here. Anyway, it's rammed tonight as London's techy metally djenty proggy darlings aim to blow its ceiling skywards.

Opening with the brilliant Yellowism from the stunning new album Mouth Of Swords, the party gets well and truly started.

The sound is huge. But there's the rub. It's just too huge for this outhouse bog of a venue. The space, dynamic, breadth and general force of the beautifully played and intricately delivered wares become a bit of a condensed and compressed din. Backed with harmonies, pads and god knows what emanating from a Macbook precariously balanced next to the actual bog, the overall effect is sadly somewhat disappointing. It's like having a Ferrari in the garden shed or a Eurofighter in a broom cupboard.

Nothing to do with the band or the playing. They're right on it. And stunning. And McWeeny, who boasts one of the most flexible, wonderful and brilliant voices in the biz, is on top form too. Not missing a note. Well, at least I don't think he does; because the muddiness and vastness of the sound renders the whole thing awkward to listen to properly.

The breakdowns and beats are searing enough. The lead guitar shredding work is splendid. But it reminds me of trying to listen to a Stravinksky's Rite Of Spring on a distorting transistor radio turned up to 11. You know the talent and the importance are there, but you're kind of filling in gaps.

That all said, the show goes on apace and the crowd don't seem to care about the ill-fitting tight venue on such a magnificent frame. There are pits aplenty, bouncing and even heaps of old skool headbanging. Beware The Leopard (Jagwar) is a particular highlight (despite the screamy lows of BTBAM's Tommy Rogers being delivered by the Macbook and the crowd as, in the words of McWeeney, the fucker couldn't be here) and along with material from the first album, including the massive and squealy Huge Hammers, the set is a perfect mix of bludgeon, beauty and bollock-squeezing power.

Fabulous band. Just can't wait to see them somewhere where their sound fits properly and they haven't had to squeeze it into a muddy size 6 mini dress. Shame.

More tunes soon. Bwoooar!