Review by Gary Spiller for MPM
“You better lose yourself in the music
The moment, you own it, you better never let it go
You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow
This opportunity comes once in a lifetime”
Eminem – Once In A Lifetime
On a marvellously mashed-up evening where three extremely diverse bands blur the strict boundaries of musical genre definition there’s a clear subliminal message additionally delivered.
It’s unspoken, no words are necessary in truth, boundaries are broken down and blurred in the despatch that, irrespective of your background, music need recognise no borders whilst being a successful unifying kinetic.
Tonight, the blue-collar cities of Bristol, Sheffield and Newport enigmatically collide providing post-Guy Fawkes fireworks. Musical pyrotechnics that light up the darkened Bridgwater skies as brightly as the previous week’s celebrated illuminated carnival here in this historic Somerset market town.
Leading the way, as ever trailblazers, Welsh fusion warriors Skindred – winners of the Best UK Artist award at this year’s Heavy Music Awards at the 02 Forum in Kentish Town, London – are riding the veritable crest of a surging wave. Enduring festival favourites across Europe the quartet fervently gate-crashed the Official UK Album Charts last year with their eighth album ‘Smile’ only being denied the top spot, in a closely contested tussle, by Irish singer-songwriter Cian Ducrot.
A mini-headline tour, earlier this year in March, consisting of dates at Wembley Arena, Manchester Academy and Birmingham’s O2 Academy, has been followed up with ventures as far afield as Australia, New Zealand and Japan prior to headlining Steelhouse and Bristol Sounds during the summer.
This current run of dates, stretching across October and November, grabbed broad attention with an astute selection, and wide variance, of support acts. A list including tonight’s top dollar billing of Blackgold and Mother Vulture along with the likes of As December Falls, Nonpoint, Deadwax, and Ward XVI. The latter famously ‘pranking’ Skindred into unwittingly signing a ‘contract’ at an instore event.
It’s an early, early start with an equally early curfew to ensure the venue’s transition from its temporary guise of gig venue back to the ‘day-job’ of nightclub. It’s a business model we’re increasingly encountering and if it ensures survival of businesses in this challenging economic climate then we’ll roll with it.
One-time theatre and cinema The Palace, nowadays ordinarily a nightclub, is still filling up as Bristolian hectic feral blues-punkers Mother Vulture hit the stage at full sprint. The thoroughly untameable vocalist Georgi Valentine roars “How we doing? We’re Mother fucking Vulture!” Introductory message emphatically delivered.
Pelting through a rapid-fire half hour long set the quadrumvirate are seemingly in no mood to take prisoners. It’s full throttle throughout from the opening rages that propel us down the ‘Rabbit Hole’ to the closing rampage otherwise known as ‘Mr Jones’. In between this bracketing of tracks from 2022’s ‘Mother Knows Best’ is a healthy blend of the tried and tested along with newer material.
It’s well over a year since we seen this four-piece outshine the Dorset sun at Love Rocks Festival and it’s significantly noticeable how much tighter they’ve become. Racking up the mileage with consistent touring Mother Vulture are well and truly masters of their own destiny. Sharper and even leaner than before MV are the perfect demonstration of Brownian motion in human form.
It’s high-level energy as bassist Chris Simpson roars a rallying “Let’s be having yas!” whilst electrifying six-stringer Brodie Maguire gets up on the frontline monitors, eagerly searching for an escape route off the stage, during the trademark bluster of ‘Fame or Shame’. Latest single ‘Break Me’ is unashamedly loud and brash; simply put there’s nothing out there like MV in full flow.
Returning to ‘Mother Knows Best’ for one last foray, bathed in a demonic red, MV mean business in a particularly determined ‘Honey’ that succeeds in filling the entirety of the Palace’s cavernous interior. Clearly moved, following the machine gun rattle of new track ‘Slow Down’ Simpson gushes “Holy shit Bridgwater! We don’t get to do gigs like this very often!” You wouldn’t know it given their assured on-stage confidence.
The Palace crowd, by now packed in, are right onside as a voice enquires “When’s your next gig?” Simpson informs of gigs in Exeter and Bristol next year along with a forthcoming second album. The untamed dynamics of ‘Phoenix’ give further glimpses into what’s in store for us with this release. Sign me up and please take my money!
2023 single ‘GO BIG OR GO HOME’ hits as hard as a steroid enhanced Motörhead as Mother Vulture continue to deal cards from their uncompromising hand. Closing with ‘Mr Jones’ MV have whipped up the sold-out crowd saving their hardest punch until last. It’s frenetic and furious, absolutely perfect fodder for the ravenous ‘mob’ assembled.
Fabulously described, in a Kerrang! review of their 2022 eponymous debut 2022 EP, in a fine slice of alliteration as “A motley crew of menacingly mysterious musicians” Sheffield’s Blackgold provide the perfect ‘stepping stone’ between this evening’s opening act and headliner. Like Mother Vulture before them Blackgold are right in Bridgwater’s collective face from the outset.
A heady stage-setting brew of hip-hop and rap pre-set has upped expectant levels neatly; providing the delightfully engrossing sight of a room predominately full of metalheads getting down to some “old school” tunes. Incongruous perhaps at first glance, I’m as far from an expert as can be in this realm, but by the time Eminem’s multi multi-platinum single ‘Without Me’ breaks the PA this shizz is well and truly about to get heavy.
Each of this Yorkshire quintet sports a black/gold mask which deliberately moves matters into an anonymous arena where the music and their message is primary and primal. Signature, and opening, track ‘It’s Art’ broils and seethes as the energy levels go upwards. It’s a don’t give a damn signature that raises a firm middle digit to the establishment and its conformity. “Right now I don’t give no fucks!” scorches vocalist Spookz. Neither does the gathered ensemble it seems.
It’s incendiary right to the very nucleus and, cobra-like, venomously spits an alloy of nu-metal riffing with a hip-hop / grime crossover. There’s a capital rage focussed in ‘One Chance’; Hatebreed and Suicidal Tendencies will be proud their legacy has been firmly grasped, shaken inside out and given a fiery injection of “I used to give a fuck” accelerated living.
The hypnotic addiction of ‘Today’s My Day’ follows, as it does on this year’s EP ‘Back With Another One’, threatening to turn humanity upon its head. ‘Social Blackout’ is so scarily true, the acerbic lyrics and tempestuous maelstrom hit home with the force of a sledgehammer. “They got you trapped in the matrix” snarls Spookz as a challenge is sent out to the ever-ensnaring social media and its inherent mental health issues of addiction.
The booming ‘Old School Sound’ passes the Dutchie leftwards with the venue literally bouncing, such is the command. Hooky as heck ‘On Another Level’ references System of a Down, Limp Bizkit and Korn whilst ripping up “these fake pop-up idols.” Energising stuff!
“Would you like to see us fuck up Cypress Hill?” asks Spookz as they launch into the Californian hip-hop outfit’s 1993 pairing of singles ‘I Ain’t Goin’ Out Like That’ and ‘Insane in the Brain’. Joined on the latter by Benji Webbe, recreating his appearance on the band’s manic recent reimagining, Blackgold reach top gear. The storm continues to build in intensity with the set-closing mania of ‘Boogeyman’. Ramparts crumble and dams burst, clearly touring with the likes of Limp Bizkit and Wargasm is reaping dividends.
With three EPs under their belt, I will be on the watch for further material from this five-piece for sure; there’s forthcoming dates with English industrialists Pitchshifter and Danish rockers Siamese. Things make more sense now; hip-hop and metal aren’t poles apart. Commonalities are shared, born of disenchantment with a middle finger salute to ‘The Man’ they ‘bleed’ into one another as countless examples like Anthrax, Run DMC, Korn, Linkin Park, and Rage Against The Machine exhibit. This realm of crossover is where the forward momentum is to be found.
Fuelled by the likes of Living Colour and Korn Newport genre-busting Skindred slithered sinuously out of the Welsh city over twenty-five years ago to unleash their piquant ragga-metal melding upon an unsuspecting public. If there is anyone in The Palace tonight who qualifies for this category, then I’d be highly surprised.
From undomesticated mad as a hornet blues-punk via an inebriating brew of nu-metal and ol’ school hip-hop we’ve landed firmly and squarely upon the doorstep of 80 minutes of unadulterated ripping up of the textbook entitled Rock n’ Roll. As the imminent maelstrom will prove Skindred sit atop the pile in both terms of balls out rocking as well as golden masters of compelling crowd engagement.
By the time three quarters of the band file onstage to the Star Wars Imperial March the crowd have been up-frenzied by a carefully curated selection of tunes from Queen, The Ramones and AC/DC. Frontman Webbe, quite literally the man out the front of it all, appears above the crowd, on a balcony as ‘Set Fazers’ is vented.
Webbe’s long-term compatriots, bassist Dan Pugsley, guitarist Mikey Demus and drummer Arya Goggin, have seen it all before and contentedly let Webbe ‘get down with it’ whilst they construct the rock steadiest of foundations. “Let’s have it!” states a smiling Webbe.
Tracks from four different albums follow the opening selection from ‘Smile’ – Kill The Power, Union Black, Roots Rock Riot and Big Tings get their moment in the spotlight. The seething furnace extravasates spewing forth ‘World’s On Fire’. A finer metalliferous slab you won’t hear. Babylon explodes as Webbe whips up an already corybantic crowd, “Let me see your fists in the air” he rallies.
The stage drops into total darkness for a brief moment before the furious drumming from Goggin underpins the lightning tempest of ‘Doom Riff’. Webbe’s ‘vision’ of the Bridgwater Community Choir is realised ten-fold with a lusty singalong during the turbulent ‘Ratrace’ that includes a wry snippet of ‘Wonderwall’.
An exuberant ‘That’s My Jam’ wraps up an opening ‘five from five’ with much whoop whooping on every level of the venue. Bridgwater is dialled into ‘Radio 01633’ to receive an unlikely coupling of Van Halen’s ‘Jump’ (complete with EVH liveried mini-keyboard) and House of Pain’s ‘Jump Around’. Bridgwater likes to move it.
The attention flicks back to ‘Smile’ with the ante being upped further whilst slipping seamlessly into the reggae enriched chimes of ‘L.O.V.E. (Smile Please)’. Ever the masterful emcee Webbe dons pink fluffy headwear that wouldn’t look misplaced upon the bonce of Jamiroquai’s Jay Kay. Fucks given, precisely zero. No recount demanded.
The Palace continues to smile with the smooth reggae undercurrent of ‘This Appointed Love’ and the epic vibes of ‘If I Could’. A befitting segment of The Prodigy’s top five smash ‘Out of Space’ is slipped into a particularly boisterous ‘Kill The Power’. Spotting an unconscious crowd member Webbe halts proceedings to enable their extraction from the crowd to receive medical assistance. After finishing their set Pugsley, on behalf of the band, makes it his priority to enquire after the individual’s wellbeing. Never to be forgotten such actions are what makes an outfit great in my eyes.
The crowd surges, in great spirits, for the crossover strains of ‘Nobody’ prior to the main body of the set being concluded with the dynamo at full crank for the rabble-rousing ‘Gimme That Boom’. Time, however, isn’t about to be called as there is a couple of ace cards yet to emerge from Skindred’s sleeve.
A stellar metalled up reimagination of Eddy Grant’s worldwide hit 7” ‘Electric Avenue’ fuels an already raging fire before the roof is well and truly lifted and catapulted, a good few miles northwards, into the waters of the Bristol Channel by a jumping ‘Warning’ replete with the time-honoured mayhem of the Newport Helicopter.
With three bands of this ilk there’s most certainly fresh impetus to carry metal forwards further into the 21st century. Full marks all about including to promoter Graham Hodgson and his Cobblestones’ team for masterminding this mayhemic evening that will sit long in the memory banks.
Photography by Kelly Spiller for MPM
