The Phox God
It’s cold my friends, this is the fourth night in about eight days that I have been queuing to get in for a show. The rock fraternity have the endless gig problem of how to dress, coat, no coat, hat, scarf and gloves and so on. I know you can put stuff in the cloakroom, but if you are late leaving you may not make it for the last train/bus home. I’ve had this happen, so I opt for the lightweight jacket and then freeze at the door.
Never mind though as we have the fire breathing dragon of the north in the shape of God Complex to warm us up. Adjusting themselves on the cosy stage, our friends ask for the house lights to be dimmed and suddenly everything went black, (TBDM , anyone?) They roar mightily, and in this small room it’s like being swept away on a wild and merciless sea. They are savage and disturbing in their writing, but that is what we are seeing in our daily lives. A fractured society reflects in an artist’s performance, can’t blame them really. Here to showcase their body of work ‘Created Sick’ we are in the dominions of ‘Lotus Eater’ who also hold us hostage with their brand of murderous mosh. As I feel that ‘Hate Runs Through Me’ and I am just an ‘Insignificant’ in this ‘Season Of Blood’ I will not be ‘Ordered To Be Well’. The Richter Scale has been trashed as tonight; we are unable to measure the damage done here. All the more reason to carry on and welcome from sunny Bristol the just as mighty and mercurial Phoxjaw, they are intense and immersive.
With the ultra- heavy sounds, they crash around the stage and into the press area as if hypnotised by the music. there is an incredible power here, and it was needed with the headline act soon to follow. With their ‘Triceratops’ ready for the three horned attack we were playing a deadly ‘Lottery’ and as for the ‘Whale’ well we need a more focused and targeted approach to deal with the troubles we are facing. Despite technical hitches the band remain on point, delivering a substantial and profound set, it’s gonna need more than a cup of tea and a lie down to recover from this.
For now, we brace ourselves, in case we don’t make it out here alive.
Stigmata Martyrs.
I am nestled in the press pit next to Kadeem France (oh mais oui, mais oui), watching him warm up before their allotted stage time, we exchange brief hellos and smiles, I didn’t want to intrude more than that. He was preparing for an all- out warrior style invasion of what remained of our burned- out frames. This is my second time seeing Loathe, but this time it’s extreme close up, and in a nowhere to hide set of circumstances. Out of the darkness emerges the mesmerising figures of the Northern noise box and dive head- first into the ‘Red Room’. Not satisfied with being onstage, Mr France proceeds to enter the pit and it spirals in a fantastical, and fervent manner.
They are a visceral band; you feel every atom in your body convulse and shiver and shake when Loathe are playing. They are celebrating the release of their LP ‘I Let It In And It Took Everything’ and we join with them, devout and steely in our presence and unashamed in our fandom. They awaken our deepest fears and really, we need to fix up, and face up folks; it’s time to Loathe as one.
During this ‘Aggressive Evolution’ you may get ‘Gored’ and be left screaming like a ‘Banshee’, not understanding how it can be so ‘White Hot’ in The Cold Sun’. I give it ‘451 Days’, not a day before nor a day after to see the ‘New Faces In The Dark’, as we stumble along to your ‘Broken Vision Rhythm’, until finally I can declare this sorry burden a gift; take it my friend ‘It’s Yours’.
This is not a change your mind, ask for a refund or phone a friend scenario, you give them your all and more. They have given you theirs, take it, embrace it and use it for the good, use it fight injustice and prejudice and the rewards will be immeasurable.
When Kadeem went a-surfing, he brought the ceiling down, we could see part of the sheeting hang down along with a few wires. They finish the set with the pit opening for the third time and we entered with gusto and it was truly a pleasure to spend the evening with these guys, and with a two thirds Scouse menu, top scran, eh?
Y’see ladies and gents, if I use every adjective in the world, it is insufficient, so I’ll use one I borrowed; unfuckwithable. You need to board this train, please don’t bury your head in the sand my friends, it may pop up in the New Zealand.