Review by Gary Spiller for MPM
Whilst Gary Barlow and a couple of mates masquerading as Take That bring cheesy glitter and glam to the eastern banks of the River Taff so an infinitely more appealing triplet of US nu-metallers shake the western side with s gargantuan heavyweight thunder and lightning pugilistic bout. Principality Stadium or Tramshed? There’s no question in my mind which side of the Taff we are heading this evening.
With each of this Stateside trio having laid waste to the 23rd incarnation of Download just a few days prior it’s a truly sizeable crowd that packs into the Tramshed’s interior intent upon metalliferous mayhem while upon the Taff’s opposite bank the consumption figures of prosecco are strongly rumoured to be set for record levels. Either way the Welsh capital is braced for one heck of a night!
The first course on offer inside the Tramshed is Atlanta, Georgia quartet Silly Goose. By far the most youthful and energetic outfit of the night they fly out of the traps with the demonic kinetics of a screaming banshee. For a solid half hour it’s a wall-to-wall combative display that completely belies their opening status.
Cardiff swiftly warms to the Goose’s slick rap-metal blend of Limp Bizkit and Rage Against The Machine; in fact, based on tonight’s showing, vocalist Jackson Foster could viably lodge a legitimate claim to be the illegitimate offspring of Fred Durst. The four-piece are right into The Tramshed’s face with the particularly anarchic nu-metal screamager ‘Live It Up’ with Foster out surfing on the crowd mid-track. No fuss, no bullshit just pure face-slapping, throat-punching honest metal.
Flanking Foster guitarist Ian Binion and bassist Yalli Alvarez throw the shapes to complement their blistering output whilst out on stage left drummer Alan Benikhis applies his seismic energies solidly. They’re not here to make up the numbers or merely ‘warm-up’ the gathering; they’re here to tear the place apart from seam to seam. The buzzsawing chaos of ‘Neighbors’, with a dash of Faith No More here and there, ensures they’re well on their way to achieving the latter just two tracks in.
Bizkit gets turned up to 12 with ‘King of the Hill’, a pit opens up wide to this absolute monstrous riptide. The brutalist assault of ‘Tsunami’ has the Tramshed bouncing unified; midtrack Binion’s salivating guitar tone has the venue eating from the collective outstretched palm. Packing a supreme knockout punch Binion holds his six-string behind his head to reveal a ‘F*** ICE’ message. Clearly not every American approves of their country’s head honcho.
Wild moshing greets the machine-gunning of recent single ‘Goodnight’ ahead of the latest single ‘Set It Off’ well and truly living up to its name. The infectious contagion is hard to ignore and by the time Foster announces “We got three minutes of insanity left” there’s a clear sense that this is a moment that is going to be firmly etched in the memories of all that have witnessed it.
‘Bad Behaviour’, with a slither of grunge darting in and out, ramps the set right up to its cataclysmic conclusion; “Burn this motherfucker down!” exclaims Foster. In their second visit to the UK, following supporting Cassyette and Hot Milk late last year, The Goose has landed and made its golden mark. Ignore them at your peril.
The evening’s middle act is for me, the act that lifts the roof the highest. The streetwise urbanity of Los Angeles’ Spineshank sets a bar that, try as hard as they can, the headliners cannot quite ascend to. The Tramshed is loudly abuzz well ahead of the Californians taking to the stage, expectations are clearly high. The levels couldn’t be buzzing any more even if a red-hot poker had been rudely thrust into a hornet’s nest.
It’s rammed inside the venue by the time Spineshank emerge into its darkened environs to a repeated “Warriors” chanted intro tape. Chitinous critters, unseen in the atramentous shadows, skitter hither and tither. The Tramshed broils and seethes as countdown to metallic lift-off nears its end.
Although formed the same year, 1996, as Drowning Pool Spineshank’s career has been somewhat more stop-start with two eight-year bursts of activity – between 1996-2004 and 2008-2016 – before reforming last year. “Let’s go motherfuckers!” enthuses vocalist Jonny Santos as him and his cohorts burst on to the stage; “Get the fuck up people!” he extends, his cajoling and encouraging of the gathering continues throughout the next 50 minutes to great effect.
The veritable avalanche ‘Asthmatic’ – the first of a fine quartet from 2000’s ‘The Height of Callousness – sets the tone with an unrelenting hi-energy. Slipping seamlessly into the rapid lava flow of ‘Synthetic’ the Tramshed teeters precariously on the edge as the punk-fueled mayhem upturns the metaphorical hives. Santos, at track-end, declares “You’re fucking awesome!” It’s clear he genuinely means it, it’s not some cheap throwaway comment.
Giving a stiff slap ‘(Can’t Be) Fixed’ leads into the breaking of the storm with ‘Cyanide 2600’. Band and fans are unified as one with Santos dedicating the punked-up metalcore of ‘Violent Mood Swings’ to “You motherfuckers out there in the pit!” There’s moshers and surfers aplenty as touches of White Zombie and Rocket From The Crypt forcibly infiltrate.
The stabbing guitaring of Tommy Decker Jr. is the perfect foil for his father’s thundering percussive in the moshtastic ‘Slavery’; a circle pit is motioned for by Santos as a compliant Tramshed willingly engages. A behemothic roar from the underworld ‘Detached’ ensures there’s not let-up in the rampaging with the demonic rage of ‘Shinebox’ maintaining an impressive metalliferous momentum.
‘Smothered’, seemingly a cathartic outpouring, takes matters down a notch for a moment before its inner nu-metal mania rears its head. The venue is lit up, at Santos’ request, for the gentler interlude provided by ‘Beginning of the End’. Although intentionally moderated it’s not the less impactful as it packs out the Richter scale with consummate ease. There’s clearly no compromising with Spineshank, very much in the vein of other such streetwise outfits like Hatebreed and Suicidal Tendencies.
The high bar is maintained by ‘New Disease’ as the finale nudges ever near; the forces expended are truly remarkable and I’m not alone in being happy for this band’s reuniting enabling my first acquaintance with them. The wrecking ball continues to swing with ‘The Height of Callousness’ transforming fortress walls into dust as middle fingers are raised in salute.
There’s one final cataclysmic explosion remaining and that comes in the utterly epic ‘Dead to Me’. Employing a similar furrow to Nailbomb it bears witness to a violently whirling mosh pit. The scenes have been crazy and it’s totally apparent that Spineshank have got some significant momentum going on. They’re not merely going through the motions as this is a return to business with serious intent. With new material recorded last year, awaiting release, expectations are rightfully meteoric.
From East to West our evening’s southern-ish Stateside metal tour winds up slap-bang in the middle with Texan legendary quartet Drowning Pool. Drummer Mike Luce, one of three founding members of DP in the band’s ranks since 1996, settles behind his kit with a just a handful of blue spots piercing the venue’s gloom. Raising a beer, as Kiss’ smash ‘I Was Made for Lovin’ You’ blazes from the PA, he salutes the Tramshed crowd as they clap and sing-along in readiness for one more party this evening.
There’s an ethereal edge to proceedings as guitarist C.J. Pierce and his bass-wielding colleague Stevie Benton – the other two founding members – storm the ramparts ahead of the arrival of vocalist Ryan Combs. The anthemic legend of ‘Sinner’ kicks off proceedings with pulverising drumming and bass lines but even this early on in their set it’s clearly discernible that DP have a mountain to climb in front of them if they are to meet the gauntlet laid down by Spineshank.
During the first half of the set we’re taken upon a journey, from 2001 to 2010, through the band’s first four albums with a somewhat unexpected saw-toothed cover of Billy Idol’s ‘Rebel Yell’ slammed in for good measure. The band doesn’t lack energy or impact but appear a touch languid when compared to what has gone before; there’s a slightly different feel to proceedings, but I guess that’s Drowning Pool’s way.
The sound is fuzzy and distorted; I wonder if it’s where I’m stood but I’ve not noted that beforehand and I’ve been located in the same spot throughout. Once again, it might well be DP’s style but not having seen them live before I can’t draw any certain conclusions. The rasping anthemics of ‘Feel Like I Do’ bounces along with a feral felinity abounding with Pierce’s solo searing brightly. There’s an edge of White Zombie within the nuclear fission of ‘Step Up’ a marauding stomper to the core.
Raw and rough-edged ‘Enemy’ is, as on 2007’s ‘Full Circle’ long-player, paired with the intensity of ‘37 Stitches’. A sandstorm stirs as the ghosts of gunslingers stalk ahead of a hyper-paced ‘Rebel Yell’ that receives a caustic barbed despatch. The remainder of the set is turned over to a thorough inspection of debut album ‘Sinner’ with McCombs noting “Old new songs that we haven’t played in 25 years.”
The darkened stalker that is ‘All Over Me’ gets the meander through ‘Sinner’ underway ahead of Pierce erupting volcanically during ‘Sermon’. The old-school nu-metal continues with the acidic despatch of ‘Told You So’ leading into the snarling kick-out of ‘Mute’. Revving up ‘Pity’ takes up the baton battling through a savage distort. ‘Tear Away’ has a similar issue but Pierce’s sunburst six-stringer shines through the miasma as McCombs grips his mic stand tightly.
The anthemic surge of kinetics in ‘Reminded’ pave the way for a show-stopping nailing of signature track ‘Bodies’ complete with guesting appearance of Jonny Santos. The pit is a blur of frenetic activity and finally Drowning Pool hit a peak that has been simmering and threatening. The dervishness is hypnotic, a befitting finale that has been over an hour in the coming. My personal lament is only wishing that this bar’s height could have been attained a whole pile earlier. Perhaps the travel issues encountered in getting over for Download have taken their toll but in the end DP have prevailed in style showing their undoubted class.
Photography by Kelly Spiller for MPM
