Invunche may be a one-man project, but founder Martin “El Invunche” Valenzuela enlists four others for this live show. The sheer number of members and instruments, including a keyboard, makes this stage look tiny. Their cacophony of guttural vocals, huge chords and glamorous theatrics impresses those who arrive for doors. Bathed in blood-red light, they conjure a sound as sinister as their extravagant appearance. Each member is dressed in black, some with corpse-painted faces, but they leave the physical performance to their lead. Valenzuela, sporting an on-stage outfit that feels ceremonial, looks every inch the frontman for a band intent on summoning something from the depths. The music is equally macabre, building an atmosphere of sonic grandeur that swallows the room whole. The audience stand and stare with beers in hand, taking in the performance and bathing in the music.
Just as the set settles into its dark, theatrical groove, the lighting shifts from red to blue and the band changes pace. The closing stretch is faster, fiercer and more direct, culminating in a hefty D-beat finale. It is a thrilling switch-up, cutting through the elaborate aesthetic and setting the tone for faster, punkier bands to come.
Before the band takes the stage, Bruce Springsteen’s ‘Secret Garden’ fills the venue, a fantastic juxtaposition to the furious grindcore that follows. They cut a slightly less intimidating figure than the act before them but waste no time proving their worth, kicking off like a starter pistol. There is no elaborate set up or drawn out introduction; they launch straight into the energy and speed for which they are known.
Strobes flash across a densely packed crowd as the three-piece tear through their setlist like wet tissue paper. Despite the sheer heaviness and intensity, a mosh pit is slow to materialise. Tonight, the crowd feels more like a drinking audience, content to appreciate the music from the floor rather than throw their friends around on a Wednesday night. Early on, the strobes prove a little too much for someone at the barrier, but security responds quickly, scooping them up and safely escorting them away from the punishing combination of sound and light.
Midway through the set, something that can only be described as a “hair pit” breaks out. Luscious locks swing and spin in every direction, sort of like a majestic hair care advert. Fans seem incredibly satisfied by the setlist and grin until the band end their set with the classic ‘Decay’.
The smoke machine facing the stage is perhaps misplaced beside two enormous fans, blowing the smoke away the second it spurts forth. The planned atmosphere Wolfbrigade is aiming for is killed before it reaches them. Nevertheless, the band strides on, guitars slung low, and immediately they look at home. They have been doing this long enough to know their sound inside out, carrying themselves with the ease of a outfit entirely comfortable in its own skin.
The pit takes a more violent turn this time. The hair swinging antics during Rotten Sound turn into something more physical, as elbows catch dancers and unsuspecting onlookers while battle jackets churn through the darkness. Thankfully, the strobe lighting is more restrained, offering a welcome reprieve for those packed against the barriers.
As the room fills further, the atmosphere killing fans work overtime to keep temperatures bearable. The crowd itself becomes an entertaining study in contrast with younger punters throwing themselves into the chaos, while the more mature contingent remains relatively stationary. Perhaps they are already contemplating the early start tomorrow and the memories of moshpit injuries of years gone by. Wolfbrigade provides the soundtrack for both, their seasoned delivery holding the room together even as the audience splits between full throttle mayhem and appreciative observation.
Nails open with ‘I Will Not Follow’, and the drums reverberate through the floorboards of this historic venue. The crowd responds instantly, with a pit stretching from the stage to the sound desk, and anyone hoping to stand still is swiftly pushed back towards the stairs. Some of the previously pensive onlookers have decided this is their last chance to dance. There is no easing into this set; the band hits the ground running and never lets up.
With curfew looming not long after they take the stage, Nails waste little time, tearing through their biggest hitters while showcasing material from their latest album. As the venue’s cut-off time approaches, vocalist Todd Jones laughingly declares, “I have no idea what the curfew is here, but… we have 5 songs left.” It is a moment that underlines the band’s priorities; this show is for the audience and no one else. Although the set occasionally feels rushed, the sheer force of their incredible sound and stage presence more than justifies their headliner status at a sold-out show.
Even after seemingly closing with ‘Unsilent Death’, Nails return for an encore, greeted by deafening cheers from a crowd unwilling to let them go.
They leave everything on stage, delivering a performance that feels like them at their absolute best. Those lucky enough to witness it will be talking about this show for years to come. Those who missed it may well regret it.
