So I’m going to be straight with you right off the bat and admit that by the time I got to this show Origin were on. Naughty me for being late right?

Well, not really- you see I walked in at about 8:45 which I consider entirely reasonable for a gig considering I was still at work when the doors opened and that had I arrived then six and a half hours would pass before the show wound up; which is far, far too long, not that this information would have been a priori or anything other than handy in hindsight.

So apologies to Revocation and Nochaa but I won’t be able to say much about their music, although to make up for it I’ll write something nice like “Revocation and Nochaa transcend genres whilst redefining them!”
Ok I like that but it fear it’s perhaps raising expectations for these guys: like I said I didn’t see them whatsoever and perhaps they pride themselves on faithfully recreating certain styles for a new audience instead…so how about “Revocation and Nochaa deliver competent (music) with some original twists!”
Hmmmm maybe not because now it sounds like I’m saying they are boring amateurs and I don’t get to use the sweet Futurama quote. Probably best not to mention them at all then, meaning I shall have to re-start the whole thing.

DYING FETUS / BENEATH THE MASSACRE / ORIGIN: The Bassment, Newport: 27.04.10

I arrive at patently unmetal venue ‘The Bassment’ and take the stygian descent into it’s hadean nightclub vista (have some culture there, chumpz) to see Origin already pretty far into their set. They have a ‘tight and focused’ sound, it’s brutal as is the want of many a Death Metal group, but also inventive and well phrased. They have enough accessible thrash aspects to appeal to a slightly younger demographic and this is in evidence at the front: a feisty clump of glandular teens are rocking out with optimal effect. The railing is being prized from the stage-front by one particularly exuberant chap- perhaps this Devil-Music really does turn youth bad?

Beneath the Massacre will probably help me determine this more clearly as their breakdown-upon breakdown sportswear clad machismo is like a peer-reviewed treatise describing primary research into delinquent behaviors as resulting from exposure to extreme music. And it IS extreme, easily the most ugly sounding (which could be considered a good thing) stuff of the night, and it really gets the crowd interaction fully underway. It’s a practice I’m reliably informed is called ‘Mushing’.

What really stands out here is the general fashion scene at this show, which I will now discuss fully with one or two WARNINGS:

• I’m going to be using the term ‘wigger’ here, as it is both funny and apt. You got a problem with that then I’d get out now.
• If you’re going to google ‘slam’ in order to find out exactly what sort of metal it is, good luck on that.

I’m in no way the first guy to notice how much sportswear fashion has entered into the heavy metal domain these days, in fact many blogs have written much more incisive prose than I will. BUT STILL, it is a sight to behold when you see 30 young wiggers (warned you) throwin’ shapes, greebing the brootalz and stomping around like a less convincing Cyprus Hill in the music video to ‘Rock Superstar’. Apparently it’s all part of modern slam metal culture: posing up in phat threads and breeing away on youtube.
There is a certain contradiction (I think) to espousing the heaviest of heavy sounds whilst sartorially tipping one’s hat to the day-glow styles more commonly associated with the likes of Kanye, and if Limp Bizkit taught us (well, taught you, I never listened to them) anything then it was to keep dunderheaded hiphop hyperbole out of metal cos it’s thick enough already.
To be fair perhaps I react against this because it underscores the generational difference between myself and anyone under 40; forcing this reviewer to suffer the dichotomy of ridicule at these sweaty oiks and melancholy for a youth that remains ever unobtainable.
Ok yeah on reading that back I see that the whole conceit I just used was pretty shoddy and failed to make much sense OR really talk about the bands, I think I might just have to

DYING FETUS: The Bassment, Newport: 27.04.10

Fuckin’ Dying Fetus fuck yeah! Somewhat elder statesmen (although younger than Nile) of Relapse records’ dominant style of Amerigind: blasts, chugs, grunts and sweeps. Guaranteed to rough up your semi-circular canals with their badass sort-of-political mayhem.
After AN HOUR of soundchecking problems that leave the affable bass player muttering quite audible sarcasm aimed at the sound engineer (or maybe he was making a clever comment on Gordon Brown’s recent gaffe? They are sort-of-political after all) things suddenly start to happen. A barrage of downtuned riff abuse and sick grooves batters the front of house crowd. The triggering light on the drummer’s kick module flicks on and off in a blur of thunderous footwork. Porcine grunting pours into the mic, where electrons push it out of big speakers positioned at the front of the stage pointed at virgin undamaged hearing.
It’s fun.
Dying Fetus have a wealth of good material, much of which maintains a catchy grindmadness/meanriffin’ ratio, meaning it doesn’t let up OR get too repetitive. Very laudable.
Ears ring as the Bassment empties, the crowd seem positive and Charcoal Grill fills up with beaming ex-haircuts who have missed their train back to Cardiff.
Safe.