One of the big four of Swedish death metal, Grave has been prowling the extreme metal realm since 1988. And two years ago, Jörgen Sandström, Jens Paulsson and Jonas Torndal reunited with guitarist Ola Lindgren, returning Grave to its original line-up and bringing the band’s “golden age” back to the stage. Armed with red strobe lights, fire and riffs that could chug their way through entire sieging armies, Incineration Festival gets a taste of exactly what these hardened bastards are capable of. They’re a relentless riff machine, yes, but they’re also calmly humble. Jörgen expresses his appreciation of everyone who made the time to come and see them, despite knowing that it’s “a bit of a puzzle to see everyone” at this festival. A particular highlight of the Grave catalogue is ‘Black Dawn’, which, Jörgen reminisces, they wrote when he was about 14. He’s now 54. It’s a primitive, swaggering piece of death metal that inspires a swell of the crowd to join in with the chorus shouts of “black dawn”. The band pull faces at each other as they unleash a massacre of bludgeoning bass lines and trampling drum blasts, inciting pits and a couple of crowdsurfers to surge forth in triumphant rage, right up until the last fragment of pyro heat has bled from The Roundhouse.
Ready to rip off the sleep mask to their summer festival alter egos, the hordes of Bathory-clad Vikings and leathered-up metalheads are excited to once again jump over dawdling tourists and hen parties to see just how many of the 30+ bands on the bill they can catch.
With five of Camden’s live music havens playing host to all flavours of the extreme, there’s something hiding in the darkness for everyone (except maybe the bride-to-be tourists; they’re better off ogling these musicians from afar). Metallic hardcore locals Negative Frame test extreme metal fans’ ability to two-step in The Underworld, while Norwegians Vreid get The Electric Ballroom all aboard the black ’n’ roll crazy train. Tomb Mould pulverise The Roundhouse with their bombastic strain of death metal, and Final Dose ram punk down every black metalhead’s throat as they shake up The Black Heart.
You’ve seen the videos. You’ve seen the memes. You’ve probably read the discourse. There’s no escaping Angine de Poitrine. But what can be asked is how we got to this point. After all, it probably wouldn’t be too hyperbolic to say that the vast majority of people in this room were oblivious to this band’s existence this time last year, before their KEXP live session went viral early this year. From there, Angine De Poitrine went from being a relatively obscure French Canadian math rock duo to inarguably the most well-known name in the entire game, a band blessed by the chaos god that is the algorithm.
Of course, the ensuing discourse has been rampant. There are questions to be asked if their fame has less to do with their music and more their dadaist image. Then there’s the reaction in the math rock scene itself, where their fame has been met with some chagrin. Who can blame the naysayers, though? Angine De Poitrine arguably don’t bring anything new to the table musically, and as of recent years, there’s been a real glass ceiling hangover over most UK math rock acts. For most of these bands, the end game is releasing one or two records, playing one of the smaller stages at ArcTanGent, then bowing out before the debt catches up. But on the other polka dotted hand, some state that they are finally bringing attention to a genre most niche. Either way, Angine De Poitrine’s rise has been nothing short of prolific, which in turn begs the question: do they live up to the hype as an actual live entity?
Yeah, pretty much. With both members facing each other before a polka dot backdrop, their paper mache noses either flopping about or standing to attention, Angine De Poitrine are a spectacle before they even hit a note. But once they do break into their microtonal, psych-infused math rock, the duo are genuinely brilliant. Yes, the visual element of this band will forever be the most grabbing and immediate aspect of them as an entity, but as they flop and flip through the inarguably grooves of ‘Angor’, ‘Yor Zarad’, ‘Sarniezz’ and other nonsensically named tracks from their two records, it’s hard to not look past the two barefoot men covered in polka dotted paper mache and just enjoy this tight, bouncy and just daftly fun music for what it is. Even without the get-up, Angine de Poitrine are clearly and inarguably brilliant musicians, and tonight, the focus for them is clearly on their music and not their intricately designed aesthetic.
Lttl Mort take no breaks from their snarling synthetic post punk with unintelligible vocal effects. A new band, with no music out, and no breaks between songs to get a sense of the personality. Flashes of their inspirations rang out – an interpolation of Daft Punk’s ‘Teachers’ rang out early on from under the vocal effects, there seemed to be an ‘I Feel Love’-esque bass line that was in the earlier part of the set. The bass tone felt consistently in the world of LCD Soundsystem, with its live fuzzy feel, and it did start to shake the venue as it was coming out of the subwoofers, despite that band feeling antithetical to the aesthetic they were trying to build, with the drummer (shirtless, balaclava) standing up and roaring at the crowd before the last beat kicked in, the pulsing lights and synthesisers. Ending with a big rock backbeat with a touch of swing, the live band influences win against the cool clubland synths.
All six members of this brutal hardcore band rush forth on stage with no warning. Instantly the crowd pushes outward and creates space for an onslaught of mosh pit acrobatics and two-stepping. The venue is already nearly full, and Sovereign takes full advantage. Grinding riffs make way for drums that cut through the P.A. system; even those in the (very long) merch queue are moshing; it’s impossible to not get involved. Sovereign has set a high standard for energy straight out of the gate.
Adding to the rarefied atmosphere is the support slot for Massachusetts heavyweights Chained to the Bottom of the Ocean, who have just put out one of the meanest and most compelling records of the year.
Chained to the Bottom of the Ocean open with zero hesitation. The stage is drenched in red light and inky darkness, and from the first note it’s obvious they are not messing around. They launch straight into ‘Reverse Baptism’ with no fanfare and set the tone immediately. There’s a formidable solidity at the core of the set, with that iron spine running through everything they do. There’s absolutely no room for filler or fluff, just direct, punishing intent. They keep crowd interaction to a minimum, which only adds to the sense that this is all about their crushing, sludgy sound hitting as hard as possible.
It’s no exaggeration to say that the playing is ridiculous across the board, but the drummer stands out. He’s mesmeric and the positioning of his kit closer to the front of the stage to accommodate Sumac’s setup only adds to the power of the performance. It feels like he’s one hit away from snapping a cymbal in half at any given moment. The band locks into a deep, savage groove and just rides it throughout their set with total assuarance. It’s a lean, ferocious showcase that keeps eyeballs glued to the stage and ear protection close at hand. Even with the frontman boxed into a tiny slither of stage space, nothing is lost. The sound carries the room, with its density and heaviness completely dialled in. You do not land a slot like this by accident, and Chained to the Bottom of the Ocean smash the assignment to fragments.
