And there is an element of fun carried on from the evening's support Death of London, a four piece composed of two Maybeshewill deflectors and featuring an incredibly tall man bent over a very low synth. It just looks uncomfortable and we hate to see anyone suffering for their art.
Still despite looking like they fathered most of our fresh faced headliners, DoL know how to rock just as hard, if not perhaps a little bit harder. There's something a little light-hearted in the midst of seething feedback and angry vocals. Spurred on by a cheerful heckler, it's perfectly disorganised chaos as songs end abruptly and our lead guitarist/screamer gives a private show to a group of curious tourists watching the spectacle from across the road. And who needs microphones as the DoL boys growl their dissatisfaction, shouting “I’m not even drunk yet” before taking to the floor to clink glasses with the unsuspecting public. A band that takes their music, if not themselves, seriously.
By the end our ears are ringing and our heads are spinning but we’d like to do it all over again, please.
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