Both myself and Mr Interceptor attended this gig. So we decide to review it in the form of chatlog. We hope you enjoy our moronic rambling.

Interceptor: So, what were the bands called?

Von: Hang on, I’m having a sammich.

Interceptor: Hows abouts a knuckle sammich ya godamn muldoon? I have spaghetti! nom nom etc etc

Von: Right so, first up were ‘Roll Call For The Second Site‘ If we don’t count the grind/thrash band in the Unicorn.

Interceptor: But the thrash band were good! They should go in! There was a Japanese lady in VERY small shorts! And beer! God knows what hey were called though

Von: That is true. We can thank Zak for being a spazz. (Zak from weheartrecords invited us to this gig but told us to go to the wrong pub. There was a decent thrash band playing there.)

Interceptor: Thanks Zak. OK, so, tweeny thrash aside -Roll Call For The Second Site. Weird name

Von: All these post – bands have weird names.

Interceptor: Whats wrong with a proper name like Baby Eater? That’s probably what the thrash band were called. Oh I see-they were being hip and ironic..

Von: The audience did include some Hoxton types, so I guess there was a hipness factor there somewhere.

Interceptor: Camden Leisure Pirates is the technical term I believe -actually we should probably mention the venue -it was certainly cosy.

Von: It was fucking small.

Interceptor: It was like watching a band performing inside a shoe in a sex dungeon.

Von: A sex dungeon with tasteful pictures of ships on the walls. And a tiny but well staffed bar.

Interceptor: and of course, a surfeit of attractive lady drummers who doubled as stroke nurses. There’s nothing like doing your research at the bar to uncover these nuggets of valuable info is there?

Von: Indeed. So, anyway. The first band – pleasntly surprised. I think they had actual songs, rather than ’soundscapes’ or whatever these guys call their music.

Interceptor: Exactly, the singer was a little too keen to get down to his scanties, but they had a Rollins-esque energy about them -twitchy and shouty with real, actual choruses.

Von: Also, it looked like the bassist was about 14 – which gave them a sort of early days – DIY – NYHC thing.

Interceptor: And of course, being a mischevious teenage type, she managed to blow up a bass amp -always a good sign!

Von: True that. I’d have like to see them smash things up and jump off things too, but I think they were in danger of banging their heads if they stood up properly.

Interceptor: I think that would make it better -If you’re in an up-and-coming band, there’s nothing like a serious head wound to get the audience riled up I say!

Von: Bleeding over everything adds a certain memorability to the set. Anyway – so the first band – ace. Hopefully we’ll see more of them, and they continue writing songs.

Interceptor: Yep -they need to fully ignore their contemporaries and listen to more Agnostic Front and they’ll be fine -top work Roll Call! So who was next?

Von: Nitkowski. Who were one of those bands who’s songs just don’t go anywhere.

Interceptor: Big or Little Nitkowski?

Von: Big. Nitkowski Urban Achievers is the name of their fan club.

Interceptor: True, but their music was as endless and rambling as Sam Elliots monologues in the movie -basically, terrible noodly widdly wankery with too much jazz thrown in.

Von: This is what happens when bands are influenced by Fugazi and Godspeed You Black Emperor rather than Fugazi and Slayer.

Interceptor: Fuck Fugazi, they should just listen to Reign in Blood over and over again.Personally, I only owned a second hand tape of Overkill’s ‘Taking Over’ when I formed my first band -that’s why I’m such a huge rock star these days.

Von: Mmmmm.

Interceptor: I’ll be honest, I was slightly more engaged by my cider than by the band.

Von: Yeah. And I was suffering from some kind of stomach trouble. But thats a story for another day.

Interceptor: So, a band that couldnt compete with cider and the shits then.

Von: Guess not. The audience liked them though.

Interceptor: Well, what do you expect from a shoe full of hairy leasure pirates? NEXT!

Von: Silent Front. It was their party after all. But there was no jelly and / or ice cream. Crap party.

Interceptor: although there was pass the parcel, their new record dead lake -which one imagines, is probably not as bad as Celtic Frost’s Cold Lake…and I believe-the last ever weheartrecords release?

Von: But less Swans than Swan Lake….Possibly so.

Interceptor: So nothing to with Chris Lake then? Or Rikki Lake-the fabulous musical (and fat) star of Hairspray!?

Von: I don’t think so. Although a concept album on the subject of Rikki Lake’s death would be interesting.

Interceptor: is Rikki lake dead?? When did this happen? Why wasn’t I informed!?

Von: Calm down. It’s a theoretical concept album. Not really happening.

Interceptor: Curses, I was looking forward to taking over her chat show -this week on Rikki, post-rock noisecore bands – shit or what?

Von: So, whaddya think of Silent Front? Because I wasn’t amazed or nuthin’

Interceptor: Yeah they were ok I spose, but again, I didn’t hear a single – you know? They reminded me a bit of the middle eight sections from Mastodons quieter pieces

Von: Huh – good analogy. Thing with Mastodon is they then go on to write massive fucking choruses.

Interceptor: yep, this reminds me of a few years ago, when guitar solos were ‘out’ for a bit. Experimenting is fine but there’s nowt wrong with ‘ ‘verse, verse, chorus’ either is there? Jesus Christ that makes me sound old.

Von: But it’s true. if Silent Front and their kind put their musicianship into writing something catchy and put their noodling into the right bits they’d probably be playing stadiums rather than tiny sex dungeons.

Interceptor: Or even better -stadium-sized sex dungeons.

Von: Ooohhh…now there’s a plan.

Interceptor: What I’m saying is I think the first band had it right, they were innovative but still tied things up neatly -practice your great rock n’ roll endings arather than letting your tunes just fizzle out. And I’m not saying that because I fancy the drummer either.

Probably

Since it’s massively disco-balled rejuvenation a couple of years ago, KoKo is ostensibly more suited to the likes of last night’s Guilty Pleasures disco than ravenous Viking metal, but with a hugely bass-heavy sound, it remains the venue of choice for the discerning – or half-deaf – metal fan.

Entombed are up first after for some trademark death n’ roll, and despite having nurtured a sound that, by it’s very nature seems designed to fall apart, are incredibly tight and focused tonight. A quick visit from Amon’s Johan Hegg livens things up, but L.G.Petrov is a growling machine, bellowing out Wolverine Blues and Chief Rebel Angel like his life depnds on it. Usually, Entombed can be relied upon to perform a raucous, ramshackle headbanging exercise, and while L.G seems to be slowly morphing into the metal Shaun Rider, tonight they come across as an accomplished, polished death metal machine, with a great sound tightening things up with thrilling results.

Headliners Amaon Amarth are clearly reveling in the massively upped profile they’ve built over the past 3 or 4 years, the enormous version of the ‘Twilight of the Thunder God’ making you realise just how bloody ridiculous they are- something the band clearly know and exploit. Dressing more and more like rock stars and clearly enjoying the status, the music is always slightly formulaic but never less than enjoyable – it says a lot for the pure charisma of the band that they can take four-four melodic death and keep it enthralling from start to finish.

Tonight we’re promised “a night of surprises” – which begins with ‘Ride of the Valkyrie’s ‘ being dedicated to “The Ladeez” and ends with some cello and a slightly-out-of-place double header with L.G returning to the stage, bizarrely reminiscent of Mark Wahlberg’s performance in ‘Rock Star’.

The theatrics continue with dry ice aplenty, scorching red mist for ‘Death in Fire’ and a fantastic run-through of ‘Cry of the Black Bird’, Amon Amarth is a band on top of their game and they know it. If they can avoid becoming overly sanitised then based on tonight’s performance, they’re set to rule the death metal roost for years to come.

It’s Friday night in glamorous London Taaahn Innit, and as it’s Vones’ birthday, and he’s already well away by the time he arrives, it falls to me dear reader, to report to you all the latest musical juice pouring out around the tube station. Venture with me then, into the bowels of the Camden Underworld.

Actually, let’s arrive on time, realise all your mates are going to be an hour late, and pop into the Worst Pub In Camden ™ The World’s End for an overpriced pint of sour Blackthorn first. After a trip to the hellish toilets it’s time for another, before realising your ex-fiancée is bobbing about on the other side of the bar. I swiftly withdraw to the relative civilisation of the Camden Eye across the street, and in doing so increase the chances that this marvellous little boozer will ply me with free beer at some point.

Onto the gig! There’s a support band, but I’ve already forgotten their name-as far as I can tell they sounded a bit like Annihilator, only worse-high praise indeed! Onto the only actually Canadian group of the evening: Cauldron!

Taking the somewhat unusual career path of deliberately trying to sound like mid-80s second stringers, they’re actually quite good fun. All the band members are appropriately skinny, and singer Jason Decay (yes, really) has a magnificent Powerslave-era Bruce Dickinson Fringe married to a Geddy Lee voice, an overall effect that brings to mind 2 foxes fighting at a Cirith Ungol concert. To be fair, they do sound better than on the album, with a bass heavy sound and lots of general ridiculousness making them entertaining, if not actually good. Extra points are awarded for having a song with the ludicrous title “Chained Up In Chains”. They’ll go down a storm on the Euro mini-fest circuit.

Having alternated between fizzy, overpriced cider and fizzy, overpriced lager all evening, it’s time to switch to rum and try to ignore the mysterious stain that’s appeared on the Celtic Frost shirt-never let it be said I’m not sartorially prepared for these events – as a band already big on the festival circuit arrive-the joyously mental Wolf.

Wolf first came to my attention with their first album-I was going through a short phase of only buying CDs if they had either a man with an axe or a terrible beast on the cover – great way to get into Iron Angel I can tell you – and Wolf’s debut has possibly the worst rendering of a wolf ever commited to paper, witness it here.

Always locked up tight, constant touring with vets like Tankard and Saxon has honed the band to the nth degree, hackneyed stage patter and all. They make bad jokes, they headbang in unison, they get the audience to wolf-howl in memory of the dead. They’re great, sounding, as they always have, like Mercyful Fate covering the first two Iron Maiden albums, it’s the energy levels that keep this from dating, from hot rockin opener Evil Star, through to the menacingly silly closer Venom (Sample lyric – Dark as a shadow, sharp as a knife, a burning hellfire on the rise – suffice to say it’s hardly Ibsen), all that’s required to enjoy Wolf is a willingness to park your sense of cool outside the door and headbang like a grinning loon. If they’d been around 25 years ago, they’d be filling stadia by now, but we can be thankful they’re still in sweaty hellholes on a regular basis. Fist pounding fun for all.

Dizzy, sweaty and drunk, The DT staffers head to the Devonshire, where amazingly a DJ from my hometown is playing. He plays thew same set he played in 1990, only now enough time has passed that people think he’s ironic, rather than crap. I’d like to take this opportunity to say that if I’m ever stuck listening to “we’re not gonna take it” on a Friday night again I will burn the venue down. I retire for falaf.

A great metal night out-happy birthday Vones!

The Velcros

Tommy Flynns plays host to a lively if sparse crowd tonight, Death shirts mixing with high heels – not on the same punter unfortunately – as Camden gears up for a mix bag of punk.

The old school comedy openers Oiz to Men are, to be fair, bloody awful. But the fact that they obviously don’t give a shit combines with an embarrassing uncle’s dress sense and Oi Oi choruses to make them punk as f**k and a joy to behold. Frontman Alex breaks all his strings in time for the encore and his sans-guitar, monkey man shuffle dance makes him all the more endearing. Going nowhere, but worth sticking around for.

Next up its some creamy indie, as best-turned-out-of-the-night local faves The Velcros take the stage. Their sound a slightly bizarre but compelling mix of Duran Duran songwriting over Donnas vox. Throbbing bass and fun west coast choruses pull them through the worst of their sub-Cardigans leanings, although some serious attention needs to be paid to the lyrics. Styled like weekend office warriors, they still seem to be commited and having fun, although with the O.C. no longer putting out soundtrack albums it may be a rougher ride than expected to the top.

A certain group’s non-showing bumps Disassociates up to the headliner spot,the cowboy shirts a giveaway as they pump out some super fast,not quite rockabilly with a dirty bass and Billy Idol poses. Remakably the attitude put me in mind of Adam and the Ants – which well and truly shows my age- and there’s a reggae influence that lets the Sting /Vince Neil vocals shine, while the decent double edged lyrics are definitely intelligent, if occasionally over-eager, catchy choruses flying past too fast at times. There’s the capacity here to be massive.