Will Marshall
Metallic hardcore ourfit Cauldron open the evening, their sound a fairly meat and potatoes take on the genre that, despite not being overly imaginative, is still compelling and enjoyable. It’s nice to see them not saddled with the curse of opening bands being given a poor mix, too; the breakdowns are hefty and the tone throughout is full-bodied. There’s more than a few people moshing and hardcore dancing at the front too, a positive sign high energy levels and of things to come. They’re not without a sense of humour either, dedicating ‘Crossing the Threshold’ to well-loved vegan diner Temple of Seitan who have a branch just a short walk from the venue. Cauldron might look unassuming, but as the meme says, they certainly whip up pits to be reckoned with throughout their short, but abrasive set.
They’re followed by beatdown mob Justice For The Damned, whose HM-2 laden assault is as ignorant as it is heavy, with breakdowns that’ll make you lose brain cells. They don’t speak too much, instead letting the sheer weight of their riffs do the talking – or more accurately, the bludgeoning. This is caveman hardcore, the kind that grunts before beating you over the head and dragging you into the pit. The snare hits sound like gunshots and it’s all so wonderfully, needlessly aggro that it’s impossible to not be drawn in by its deceptively simplistic heaviness. Calls to make some noise and for movement elicit exactly that, the crowd more than happy to oblige with two-stepping and vicious pits. With a tone thicker than molasses, more blastbeats than you’ll hear anywhere other than black metal and breakdowns that have their own breakdowns, Justice For The Damned raise the bar even higher with a rampaging, savagely compelling set.
Finally, the Canadian heroes of the hour take to the stage to blaring K-pop before barrelling into the emotionally raw Whispers Of Your Death, dedicated to frontman Brendan Murphy’s beloved cat, Kuma. The emotion is palpable, the crowd yelling back every word of its devastating chorus. The anthemic Bound To The Burn snd Wings of Nightmares complete the opening trifecta, the band barely pausing for breath between. If the crowd were receptive before, they’re simply heaving now with pits, fists waved and crowdsurfers from the very beginning. It’s an exchange of energy that clearly fuels vocalist Brendan Murphy as he gleefully declares “if you know the words, you know what to do. Don’t piss me off!” It’s partly his stage and online persona – a satirical, overexaggerated version of himself – that makes them so entertaining but mostly it’s the fact that for all they joke about ripping off Misery Signals, they’re a consistently excellent band in their own right. Tonight proves that, with older cuts slotting right alongside the new with ease. They’ve got a sound, and they do it exceptionally well.
A particularly vocal crowd member comes across as extremely obnoxious with constant yowls of “Brendan! Play the song!” even after he’s been told to shut the fuck up. It’s a dour moment but one Murphy plays off with characteristic insults and grumbles, including a (necessary) rant to not put drinks on the stage. After an overstretched break they ramp the energy right back up with the searing Monument and an equally raucous No Servant Of Mine. As is proven multiple times during their set, Counterparts fans are incredibly dedicated to them; Murphy’s demands for singalongs never go unheeded with the crowd being almost as loud as the band, and constant movement throughout. The lack of barrier only enhances the experience and deepens the connection between band and fans and there’s just as much love for newer material as old, including mid-set highlights Thieves and Flesh To Fill Your Wounds. By the time they end on the cathartic Mass Grave of Saints, which is a surefire contender for one of their best ever songs, it’s been nothing short of incredible and proven once more why Counterparts deserve not just the love of their dedicated fanbase, but far more besides.