Live Review: UK Tech-Fest, Newark Showground, Saturday 8th July 2017

UK Tech-Fest is always an event to look forward to with its interesting variety of international bands, a great atmosphere and organisers who think of everything, including a fine selection of real ales. AveNoctum’s John Skibeat (JS) and Andrew Doherty (AD) were there on the Saturday of this four day event to drink in and review the experience.

Johnski’s mission should he choose to accept it? Absorbing 7 hours of instrumental technicality; music sans vocals.

So what did he learn? Well, it imbued him with a new found appreciation of the drummer’s art. From the maniacally complex blur of sticks and feet on skin to the vast swathes of silence, deftness of touch and light glances of cymbal. The variety of percussion required when creating music devoid of the human voice was vast. And whilst there appeared to be a decreasing use of bass guitar there was conversely the increasing use of ambient recordings in this art form. It was also noticeable just how often certain instruments have risen to the fore in technical music over the years – see reviews for examples.

So… back to the present tense and the first band on the bill for the day. Altostratus, a quartet named after a high cloud formation, play a groovy, light, yet complex, form of technical rock with a soft, elegiac flow. Their bassist looms large in everything they do, setting a strong rhythm, striding wildly from step to step across the stage. The twin guitarists create some beautiful finger shapes, and aren’t afraid of palm-muting or riffing. They switch guitars regularly and at one point a small black box Strandberg guitar, no bigger than a banjo, is produced. Ultimately, they do thrash out one too many bar chords for my liking and just don’t work over their cute riffs for long enough to fully immerse yourself in their songs. Having said that, there are some wonderful flurries of colour to be found in key track “Hidden In A Cloud”. (JS)

Crushing bass lines, a growly vocalist, who looked as if he wanted to cause harm, and all-round heaviness were the meat and veg from Harbinger. Actually, not so much veg. The vocalist made the common mistake of mumbling song titles but I gathered beforehand from the guy on the merch stand that most of this set came from the recently released EP “Human Dust”. I loved the hard-hitting riffs, the heavy bass line and the technical hardcore energy. One vocalist briefly became two – that’s one way of getting over the noise. This was aggressive layered technical metal without ever being too clever about it. Structures held together well even in the onslaught of such brutal chaos. Harbinger had great presence too. The vocalist had grace and humour. Heads banged, faces twisted and the bassist in the multi-coloured shirt, which made me think that a blackcurrant-consuming bird had deposited its stuff, joyously lived and breathed every moment. The band rose to the occasion. This was everything you would hope for from a live performance. (AD)

A thin and pale-looking man in a green hooded wind cheater growled and screamed like a cat, as the instrumentalists around him pumped out irregular, djenty dirt. It stopped. “We are Nycosia”, he announced politely in a refined accent. Thanks. Now back to screams and dissonance of a highly disturbing and entertaining nature. Green Man’s face turned redder as he rapped venom into his mic for our benefit. Oodles and oodles of energy and aggression poured out of every crevice. Chunk – clunk – chunk, they’re angry. Everyone’s angry but happy. Sampled distorted crawliness led to a further mentally deranged breakneck fury fest, breaking down somewhere along the line into mind-altering doom. Oompah-oompah. The experimentation knew no bounds. It was brutal. It turned punishingly dark out there. Somehow we finished up in a cosmic void. This was fine fare for 2 o’clock on a Saturday afternoon. Immaculately presented, this was warped music for creative minds. Well done. Does Nycosia come on prescription? Luckily Green Man didn’t burst a blood vessel. The man needs a nice cup of tea after all that. (AD)

With more Strandberg’s on display for Wisconsin duo (a trio for the tour) The Fine Constant, it certainly becomes apparent that it is this year’s instrument de rigeur. Adored by axe technicians for its lightness and adaptability, the guitarists here show just how adaptable they can be. Lead guitarist, Sarah Longfield, drives the twinkling top-end whereas the tour backing guitarist adds bassier textures with bar chords and riffs. Sarah’s finger shapes, speed and lightness of touch is astonishing and mesmeric in equal measure. She rarely visits the base of the guitar neck to strum, employing the finger-tapping method to great effect. Their music brings a strong arpeggio game, but sadly the performance and finished product feel vacant, like it’s missing something. Perhaps it’s the size of the stage, the loss of momentum between songs or the lack of engagement with the crowd, but for some reason the absence of vocal seems particular noticeable. (JS)

With less ambiguous arpeggios and a groovier soul, The Parallax Method, are three guys who obviously love what they do. Throughout the set, they’re exchanging smiles, teasing each other with new tricks and change-ups. Ben Edis on bass spends the whole set bobbing his head in time with his own rhythm, rocking gently forwards and backwards, and sandal-wearing guitarist Danny Beardsley isn’t far behind him. The drummer plays intense, rapid rhythms and displays huge technical skills. This band know their way around their instruments but they still fall short on variety. There is much similarity between the songs but what is there is solid. Pulling out of the groove to develop the layers would help lift what good foundations they have laid. (JS)

My immediate impression of seeing Exist Immortal on stage was that they are a well-drilled band. Co-ordinated head-banging, movement and horns gave a slick appearance. Musically, deep waves flowed through a heavily progressive sound. The singer mixed growls and clean vocals very well. Normally I pick up bands for having insufficient presence, but at the start I felt there was too much. All the gesturing and posturing were those of self-appointed, posing rock gods. The music itself had power and energy. There was plenty of energy in fact and moreover plenty of hair on stage to swing. And it flowed – the songs were strong, the riffs were solid and dark, and the clean vocals added impact to this melodic heaviness. The singer looked like Damian Wilson and when he spoke sounded like him. The vocal delivery was more akin to Scar Symmetry. Inciting the crowd to chant “we are non believers” was a bit daft, I thought, and the bassist became unhooked in his enthusiasm, but the stage performance settled down after initially being distracting. The crowd bounced, even the guy with the bandaged foot. I’d quite like to listen to the recorded version of these songs without the distraction of seeing these guys prancing about and without the wall of sound. I suspect they would be rather good. Well, on a hunch I bought Exist Immortal’s album “Breathe” (2016) so I guess I’ll find that out soon. (AD)

Maxi Curnow, producer, composer, fire-fighter and Tech-Fest favourite, always goes down well with the crowd and here it is no surprise to see just how well his unique brand of jazzy, progressive, groove-laden tech metal is received – he takes the adoration with a series of appreciative nods, thank yous and humble blushes. Further comment would be somewhat unfair seeing as, due to rumbling bellies, neither our intrepid reviewers got to witness his full set. (JS)

Dutch quartet, Exivious, featuring current and ex-members of Dodecahedron and Cynic, greeted us with the news that they were (like a couple of others) on their farewell tour. They certainly gave us a big echoing sound to absorb. Imagine yourself being in the belly of a whale, hearing the groaning of the ocean beyond its ribcage. Such was the impact of combining a multitude of effects pedals with an impressive and aggressive drummer. Some songs breathed fire, some froze in our veins. They certainly maintained a steely resolve throughout, their respective members smiling with each twist of the story conjured. Indeed, our lead guitarist seemed lost in his own little world; eyes covered by shades, ears covered by headphones, rocking and rolling his way to oblivion. With so little crowd interaction, the “all-male futuristic instrumental hit machine” left us a little bemused but certainly with something to mull over. (JS)

“Platfarm faave” was the sole contribution to humanity that I ever heard from the man on the gate at Hull Paragon station. It didn’t matter where you were going. It was always platfarm faave. The man was a legend. Not yet legends but also from Hull are The Colour Line. They certainly took the dull out of Hull. The band looked excited. Soon they were up and at us. Mayhem followed. The vocalist, guitarist and bassist ran around and jumped on things amid punk hardcore energy and noise. They wouldn’t stand still for Johnski’s photo, the buggers. The vocalist was in the moshpit and we were on the first song. I found myself confronted by the burly bassist. No time for chit-chat. It was carnage but let’s not forget they can play. Here was technical hardcore with extra ferocity but as a guaranteed bonus the rhythms were infectious and providing fuel. “I am extremely unfit”, announced the vocalist who set about disproving the point. Smash-bang-wallop: the noise was total, there was much kicking and screaming and hammering, and the songs were great. The vocalist reflected: “In our wildest dreams did we not imagine that so many people …. would be leaving the room at once”. The tension built up as “R.E.D” started with a tribal technical rhythm. The angry joy was abundant. Did I hear a little jazz insertion? Where to look? The singer was on the amp and in the crowd again. The guitarist jumped on the security guy’s shoulders. Leads got tied up. The guitarist stood on the drum kit. Heavy, heavy, thunder and chaos. The set was cut off at 4.30 but with a bit of persuasion all round, The Colour Line were back to play “Colonel Sanders Flying Machine” to delight us with more technical anarchy. And inevitably, orchestrated by the vocalist, it finished up with a mass pile-up of bodies in the middle of the floor. The guitarist confirmed to me later that the band is breaking up and they have just one more gig to play in their home city. That’ll be a riot. Newark 0, Hull 4. (AD)

It’s hard to believe that The Algorithm are a duo, albeit one with a neat symbiotic relationship, considering the level of noise that emerges from their respective tools. Whereas Jean Ferry batters various drums and cymbals with sticks, Rémi Gallego sends loop after loop skittering into the ether before backing it up all up with a chaotic set of tones and rhythmic patterns powered by synth and guitar. The effect is to place their music somewhere between dance and metal. It’s a destructive sound, bordering on drum and bass, prog and at times breakbeat. Occasionally, you’ll seriously wonder which instrument is playing percussion. Was that backbeat from the synth, the double-kick, or the guitar? The crowd are lapping it up and between songs shout “Oui! Oui!”, baying for the Gallic master-class to play on. With the drum-kit up near the front of the stage, it’s a pretty destructive sound. The force of the double-kick and the way it mashes with the guitar chugs (with the whole meshing to form what sounds like dog barks) bully your chest and lift you off your feet. They hammer through crowd favourites like “Brute Force” and “Deadlock” before letting their collective imaginations fly for “Floating Point” and “Machine”. Then, just for shits and giggles they attempt to scramble your psyche by tripping the light fantastic with “Access Granted” and that subversive section of ragga/dubstep. The circle pit slows from a mad-dash to a slow-motion jive and the party and, indeed, the day ramps up a level. (JS)

Compared to previous acts, the Gigantic stage hall was fairly empty, maybe on account of the fact that people wanted their dinner. Around 50 spectators gathered to watch Red Seas Fire. This band hadn’t set the world ablaze on the last occasion I saw them. Here again there was plenty of honest energy but what I heard seemed uncoordinated. The angry tech rhythm wasn’t especially angry. The clean vocals weren’t strong and were a bit whiny. The strength lay in the drums department. Here and there Red Seas Fire came out of their shell with all guns blazing and showed they were capable of rip-roaring, bouncing metal. Judging by the number of members of other bands in the audience, maybe Red Seas Fire could be seen as a band’s band. (AD)

My expectations were high for Uneven Structure. Other than segments, I hadn’t heard their latest album “Partition” (2017) before today, but their previous works and live performances told me I was going to witness something mesmerising, dark and epic. Normally silky smooth and lofty in spite or even because of the weight from the four instrumentalists, I found this set hard work as it never seemed to get going. Matthieu’s vocals haunt and float when he’s not growling, but here it was difficult for him to generate atmosphere above the wall of djenty noise. “Partition” evidently doesn’t engender fog. It does require immense sounds. Another guitarist appeared. The young drummer looked like was having the time of his life. The other instrumentalists exuded a mixture of gravitas and pleasure. This was too lyric-heavy. More atmosphere please. There was atmosphere and Uneven Structure built it up as is their wont, but this was no pressure cooker with ever increasing tension. “Partition” would seem to be a series of distinct experiences. I get that Uneven Structure would want to expand their sound, but it was as if Matthieu were making his lengthy vocal appeal through thick clouds. At one point the wall of sound accompanied a slow, lingering and emotional ballad. I’d not heard a djent ballad before. The power can be overwhelming. The complexity is haunting. It’s about tones of darkness. There’s little light here. It was impressive in flashes, but the sound mix and the lack of obvious logic in the musical story-telling wasn’t making this easy. Matthieu almost fell off the drum platform as he initiated a series of pungent explosions. This could be very heavy. The fog then appeared. The sad looking guitarist played a melancholic tune. The other two guitarists enigmatically faced the back of the stage as Matthieu sang and the drummer injected sophistication. The song built up and everyone was in the game again. The wall of sound and growls were as ever immense. The guitarist in front of me fell to the floor in exhaustion or emotion, not sure which. Fiery death metal followed. Matthieu incited the crowd. The crowd responded. The band lined up and subjected us to a wall of djent and enormity. Matthieu roared and floated dreamily above the deathly heaven. This was Uneven Structure of old – the start of Februus (2011) in fact. Finally, I felt uplifted. And it built up to a crescendo of power, ferocity and intensity. It was evident that the band felt it too. It was a magnificent ending but to this point I struggled with this set. The depth and complexity are unquestioned. Maybe if I’d known what “Partition” is about, it might have helped, but I felt that there was a lack of continuity coming from these heavy progressive tableaux. Matthieu struggled to rise above the intensity of sounds, and his message was lost for me. Yet in spite of my reservations and to some extent disappointment, this was still an impressive experience. (AD)

As I stood and watched the lads from Andorran death metal outfit Persefone warm up, it became apparent that something wasn’t quite right. Little clue did I have that I and the eventual audience were to witness something truly special. Just before they started playing in earnest, frontman Mark Martins Pia made a solemn announcement to the audience that their band-mate Miguel had been hospitalised before the show. However, they had agreed not to let the fans down and plough on despite no longer having a keyboard player, or backing vocalist, and as they had discovered, no compatible samples or effects (somewhat key to a complete performance). It later transpired, that they were also about to experience the full gamut of technical issues from loose ear monitors to PA system failure. However, true to their word, through shrugged shoulders, bit lips, hung heads and apologetic grimaces they “had fun” with it and put on an absolute stonker of a show. Having been accused previously of weak performances and crowd interaction, they tore into their set and constantly offered feedback, praising the crowd who reacted with nothing but joyous abandon and rapturous applause. Pia basically gave us a lesson in how important the bond between band and audience can be. He leapt from front to back of the stage; prowled from left to right. He climbed risers, speaker stacks, crowd-surfed and balanced precariously on the barriers with multiple arms supporting him. He even conducted the circle pit from inside it! The man was a tour de force. Yes, there were whole sections missing but where possible Pia sung (a surprise to even him) the clean backing vocals whilst the crowd hummed the missing samples. At one point this heroic frontman even ran to the front of the crowd to ram his mic under the lips of an intro-whistling crowd member for the masterful “Living Waves”. They improvised with a jam session to cram in “Spiritual Migration” and they climaxed with the epic “Mind As Universe”. When they laid their instruments down they found a multitude of new fans wanting to meet them to wish them and their missing brother well. This was a total master-class in going above and beyond expectations; of how to win friends and influence people and… to have a blast doing it. (JS)

Having misread the band’s logo beforehand, Obscura was a lucky dip choice for me as I knew nothing about them. That isn’t necessarily a bad thing. At least I was coming into it without pre-conceived ideas. A couple of knowledgeable people did tell me earlier in the day that Obscura are German and play technical death metal, which given this event isn’t so surprising. A potential distraction was the fact that I was bringing myself down after the improvised brilliance of Persefone. What I heard initially from Obscura was very technical, very clinical and very heavy. A sampled symphony did nothing to dispel a cacophonous high octane death metal song. This made way for another growly song marked by more heavily technical and purposeful progression. It moved along like an industrial machine. Progress continued to be mechanical, military even. I gathered that Obscura were from Munich and released albums called “Cosmogenesis” and “Akróasis” but for me it made little difference. Each song, wherever it came from, seemed to be borne of an apparent contractual obligation comprising the establishment of an unwavering technical pattern, growls and a clunking progression. Movements were made to order. The spokesman didn’t help by berating the audience for not being interested in the explanation of a song’s timing. He invited the audience to join in – to the growly parts? Band members smiled but there was no fun. There was no spirit or soul. “Sermon of the Seven Suns” was fast and hard but with the same technical riff it still managed to be colourless. To the band’s credit, they played well and tightly, and the grooves were good, but in spite of the occasional epic moment, this was all built on a classic model and came out flat and stingy for me. So whilst Obscura’s set wasn’t actually bad, there was nothing memorable. Once they were in a pattern, they found themselves stuck in it and it was all very pedestrian. To counter my own negativity Obscura have released four albums, and judging by the healthy crowd at the merch stand and a complimentary comment by a fellow-festival goer, it’s clear that Obscura have something to offer. I just never found out what it was. (AD)

Predictably, considering their decision to call time after 16 years, melodic technical groove merchants Textures announced early on that this was to be their last TechFest. With the crowd immediately desperate to fully engage with their last chance to catch their heroes, frontman Daniel De Jongh picked the masses up in his meaty palm and carried them on a journey through their colossal back catalogue from “Drive”, “Regenesis” and “Storm Warning” to “Stream of Consciousness” and “Laments of Icarus”. The crowd-surfing was immediate; the circle-pit and moshing ensued. The band responded with shit-eating grins, breakdown after breakdown, juddering tech scrambles and a cacophony of battered drum-skins. The atmospheric backwash drifted over proceedings for “New Horizons” and the lightshow ramped up a level with sweeping spots and blazing strobes. The catcalls and whistles emanating from the crowd reached fever pitch between tracks and regular chants of “AY! AY! AY!” drowned out De Jongh’s attempts at banter. No matter, he simply waited then tore them a new arsehole with his barking vocal and skittish whoops. His range is unequalled; his rich quality of tone is to be marvelled at. Those with hair wind-milled, those with fists raised them. Then following the monstrous “Singularity”, the band broke for an unnecessarily long interlude of melodic synth. Blue lights from the stage, lighters from the crowd, but the momentum was lost, the wait monotonous. When they returned De Jongh actually felt the need to say “we’re back”. They did manage to pull it all back eventually but only by demanding a hangar-wide wall of death. The division between the fans and the onlookers immediately became apparent but those more up for the craic, soon pulled the strings of a circle pit together as the rhythm switched to a gallop. The band began pulling stunts like co-ordinated backward walks across the stage, the bassist gave up playing and allowed De Jongh to bang his mic on the strings to set the rhythm, the stage-jockeying began and the show began to descend into farce. Happily, the energetic nature of their songs and their performance pulled them through the roughest of patches and we all retired with buzzing ears and rosy cheeks. (JS)

The final word: as hoped for, this was a day of great bands, but what was particularly striking was the friendliness and natural camaraderie amongst everyone present. Even the security staff had smiles on their faces while doing their job efficiently. UK Tech-Fest world is one where people talk to strangers happily, make space for others and share their bottle of water. Band members are around to chat and everyone’s happy. World leaders please note.

Review: John Skibeat / Andrew Doherty
Photos: John Skibeat

Live Review: UK TechFest @ Newark Showground, 9 July 2016

Reviewers: Andrew Doherty / John Skibeat
Photos: John Skibeat

AD: This was the fifth edition of UK TechFest. I’d been to one before, Johnski to two. We both noticed the improvements since our first visit in 2013. The bands and atmosphere were good but then it was all a bit rough and ready. Newark Showground is now the venue. It’s spacious and well set out with a neat campsite, a wide range of reasonably priced food outlets, helpful staff and good and working facilities. The two stages are in large hangars, which are divided by a large area with a bewildering array of TechFest, label and band merchandise. So let’s start by saying “well done” to the organisers.

JS: It was midday when the proceedings began. Giving us a pleasantly mellow wake-up call was the Cornish progressive metal collective For The Oracle. Boasting seven members, they filled the smaller Hands On Printing stage, scattering it with a range of percussive instruments. When in full flow, we were treated to a pair of saxophonists (an alto and a tenor), a pair of drummers and three guitarists. They’re a young band with a confident, active frontman in Sam Lawson; a definite positive, which you hope might soon inspire his rather more chilled-out accomplices as their experience grows. Their music flows beautifully, rising and falling with his vocal. There were also some pretty eclectic Floyd-ian touches, some Afro beats (“Princess”) and jazzy drives that see them successfully combining the twin universes of Incubus and Tool.

AD: I know a bit about parallax boards and measurements, so I had an inkling that The Parallax Method might play music with mathematical structures. An impressive crowd of over 100 spectators gathered to witness an mesmerising display of complex instrumental shapes and patterns. Technical mastery overshadowed any warmth, of which there was very little. Both the music and the band, who were probably nervous and certainly looked uncomfortable, seemed very earnest. “I’m popping out for a smoke”, commented my friend and fellow spectator Jonathan. I silently told myself he wasn’t going to miss anything. Actually he did, but for the wrong reason. “Thank you. Enjoy the festival”, announced the band spokesman. Hang on. “We haven’t finished yet”, he added as we all proceeded to troop out. So we stayed for another five minutes of sophisticated shoegazing proggery. This set had great technical qualities but it was like the world’s longest interlude.

JS: The feisty Hull/Sheffield quintet Dividium sport a fired-up frontman who was ably backed up with a technically-proficient, bouncing crew. In fact, the scruffy-bearded Neil Bailey is a bit of a card. He seems quite happy to refer to himself as “the fat lad” and is keen to point out that, despite his jams, “the chafing is real, people.” His large strides make sure he covers the whole stage quickly and hopefully saved him from too much discomfort! Their melodic tech metal is built around solid grooves with added bluster and a variety of vocal techniques. Bailey started out colouring his with a somewhat ropy operatic lilt before he fell back into a much more confident series of deathly roars balanced by sweet harmonised cleans. Their new album got a good airing with “Eternity” and “It’s All Gone 19” the standouts. The latter blew away the cobwebs by creating a huge wall of battering sound with a monstrous series of breakdowns built in.

AD: From Sorrow to Serenity weren’t showing on my original list. Thinking of similar previous experiences with Aeolist and Day Six, unexpected bands have proved to be pleasant surprises, and so were these Glaswegians. Immediately cutting in to hardcore energy, the philosopher come politician come vocalist screamed or cleared this throat violently, as you prefer. But this wasn’t raw violence. The riffs were magnetic, the structures were well thought out and the timing was excellent. “Thanks for getting up early: this is the wake up call”, announced the vocalist. It was about 1.40pm. The tall, wiry bassist stood on the monitor and looked menacingly into the crowd. The band moved and twirled, the crowd banged their heads and the dangerous djenty rhythms with technical twists and atmospheres just added to the violent expressions of anger. The intensity level was 150%. So while the social and political undercurrent of the songs’ themes may have been rancid and cutting, as a performance this was a breath of fresh air.

JS: Shifting across to the Carillion Guitars main stage, U.S. progressive modern doom quintet Dark Orbit lost a member somewhere and appeared to have shifted their sound to one spouting a wall of death with scouring, astringent roars and heaving kicks of hardcore. With their Voyager backing track kicking in briefly to set them up, they soon settled into proceedings and provided us with plenty of energetic power-housing built on explosive grooves that build to euphoric crescendos. Chad Kapper, their long-haired, heavily built vocalist dominated the stage by constantly pacing between his drummer at the back of the stage and the crowd, planting a right foot on, first, the riser then the monitor. His main partner-in-crime (a pretty decent Phil Lynott lookalike), John Schiber, was a blur of action, constantly growling through bared teeth and fighting his guitar to set up a constant undercurrent of groove. There were plenty of “invisible oranges” on show and pumping fists thrust into the sky but, shorn of the futuristic affectations that tint their fine EP, on stage they veered too much towards just a single-colour slab of sonic destruction.

AD: Explosive death metal erupted as the five members of Belial went about their business. The band identity seemed to be about facial hair, neck tattoos, aggression and what? The vocalist pulled a nasty face, kept telling us “we’ll move this place” as if trying to convince himself of this, and growled some more as the grungy wall of noise continued. “It’s a heavy one”, announced the vocalist unnecessarily. Same riff, different song. “Parasite” had a bit more punch, irregularity and interest but all in all this was a storm, which blew over without damage. Some in the crowd were more than enthusiastic than I was, but for me Belial just dropped back into the pack of the other fourteen bands with the same name.

AD: During one of the few breaks between sets, I met Jake from The Schoenberg Automaton. I asked him what to expect. “Something abstract” was his reply. Thanks to a purposeful build-up, these Aussies subtly took us into a higher place with powerful and heavy groove lines, supported by ferocious vocals from the aforementioned Jake, striking with his flowing ginger beard, lanky frame and multi-coloured beachwear. Game on. I and my fellow spectators tuned into a world of irregular chaos, stepping up, stepping down and constantly changing but hugely interesting and enjoyable. There was death metal somewhere in amongst all this irregular timing, melodic lines and metalcore anger.

Visually, the band showed great personality and presence. Jake disappeared as he lay on his back on stage, continuing to growl before getting up athletically and continuing his theatrical display. This was organised chaos at its best. Outstanding guitar solos appeared in the middle of all the noise. Each progression was gripping and exhilarating. Jake swung round like a madman in time to these maniacal and ever transforming instrumentals. I didn’t know where to look to find the action. It was everywhere. Jake stormed the crowd. I detected a faint melody in the thunder. The set ended with “Where Are We, In a Cube”. There was an infusion of jazz and moments of doom while Jake swayed robotically. The music was weighty, mobile and dark, but also thanks to the good grace and humour of the band, it was all great fun too. The animated crowd had been gradually lifted to a state of fever pitch. Paradoxically the irregular metal didn’t seem disjointed but had a good flow. This is what live performance is all about: Interesting, carefully crafted and powerful music, presented in an audience-friendly way.

AD: There was no time to take breath. After The Schoenberg Automation I made my way over to the other stage, where triggering drums, a massive groove line and heavy, heavy metal signalled the arrival of Abhorrent Decimation. But this wasn’t just about heaviness. There was melody, and those groove lines were rampant and transfixing. “Love is the answer. Now is the time for love”, proclaimed the beefy vocalist. What? It became apparent that this man had a magnificent sense of humour. “Technical issues … what a place for this to happen”, he commented as men fiddled behind him and adjustments were made. Soon we were back to growly and brutal melodic assaults. Abhorrent Decimation just didn’t mess about. This was like Deicide with melodies to die for, sheer authority and firepower. A little Eastern sample was slipped in, but this was about the riffs, the groove and the unending motion. There was a purity about this assault. The guys from Loathe looked on enjoyed the set with the rest of us. “Have fun. We are”, exhorted the beefy man, who invited a left side – right side sing-a-long as “Echoes of the Vortex” got under way. It didn’t go to plan. “This side has given up. Fuck ‘em”, he concluded. Finishing with “Terminal Reality” off the “Miasmic Mutation” album, the band’s feisty but crowd-friendly attitude, the djenty grooves and the complete co-ordination, which had won everyone over, were there again. Superb music, great crowd interaction and sheer entertainment: you can’t ask for more.

AD: I walked across into a packed room. People were chanting “Potato”. I saw Serbia’s Destiny Potato at this event three years ago. Here were the first clean vocals I’d heard so far. They weren’t great. The lady singer, who herself seemed surprised at the level of support for the band, couldn’t hold a note. She was no Anneke van Giersbergen or any of the singers from Tristania. The songs were commercial, a bit gothic, but ultimately I found them dreary. Destiny Potato gave off the presence of a big band with all the gestures, but these slushy, soulless songs lacked personality and came across as a form of mashed up melodic rock-metal. So you’ll gather it wasn’t speaking to me but as I looked round heads were swaying and many of the sizeable crowd were appreciating the show more than I was. “Addict” had a bit of Eastern mysticism with a djent underscore. I liked the heavier tones and the lady’s growls were good. Overall I didn’t enjoy this set as much as I had others. Destiny Potato seemed to be unwittingly cultivating a rock star image, but in spite of that managed to convey likeable personalities. The crux of this for me though was that the songs weren’t strong enough.

JS: Now here’s a Parisian modern death quintet who sound like The Faceless mixed with Gojira. Oh yes, there’s storm a-brewing. Pitching a series of arpeggios up against an avalanche of breakdowns, Atlantis Chronicles hit heavy and they hit hard. “The sea is everything… the cycle will soon be completed” intoned the Biblically-deep voice from the gloom. It’s the eerily-atmospheric spoken intro to their new album and, as there, they followed through with the crushing “Otis Barton”. Loaded with deathly roars and vast intakes of breath that build into great whooping Randy Blythe-esque screams, the whirling dervish that is Antoine Bibent set out his stall early, bouncing from pillar to post, and was soon slicked in sweat. The aquatic backstory continued throughout their set allowing us to follow their journey and very soon the audience was drowning in a monstrous conveyor belt of sound. They were clearly loving their art, sporting shit-eating grins and throwing many “thank you guys” to the baying crowd. Their genial, amenable attitude of course comes paired with their ability to tear the neck from your shoulders so be warned.

AD: Earlier, the spokesman for From Sorrow to Serenity had declared their allegiance to Fit For An Autopsy, with whom they had been touring. The intensity level now was stepped up. Fit For An Autopsy came on stage and kicked some ass, as no doubt they would refer to it. But it was ass-kicking with twists, turns and technical patterns. The crowd created a big circle. The moshing began with the second song “The Jackal”. This was a typically big performance by a US band: much posturing, much aggression, a constant wall of sound, demonstrative gestures from the band members, time to let the spectators take it in and react. And react they did. The moshpit erupted in wild fury during “Saltwound”. A case of tough guys playing for tough guys? But this New Jersey hardcore was laced with subtly deep and dark melodies. For some reason mention of the USA by the vocalist didn’t go down too well. This was neatly sidelined. Thunderous and edgy metalcore energy was matched by slick presentation. An interruption to deal with sound problems threatened to derail the momentum. The guitarist was still having problems in “Still We Destroy” but the show must go on, and so it did in its loud and vociferous way. The moshers followed the roaring vocalist’s instructions. A frenzy was whipped up. There was something tribal about the progression – perfect for the moshers. The place went wild to reflect the musical violence on the stage, and carnage on the floor. It’s important not to forget the musicianship. To a shuddering backdrop, it was sharp and tight, and of course heavy. The set ended with the anthemic “Absolute Hope, Absolute Hell”. With its technical twisting to entice us, and a hint of Killswitch Engage’s “Daylight Dies” about it, spice was added to the usual potent mix of brutality and metalcore. It was a fitting end to a dazzling display, even with a couple of technical interruptions, of controlled and uncontrolled frenzy.

JS: Oddly enough Sithu Aye is pronounced C2-A which makes the main man sound like something out of a Star Wars film. With the Glaswegian’s touring trio also on show we are privy to the full instrumental tech experience. They may look like lost extras from The IT Crowd but they certainly know their onions. Plenty of rise and fall, arm-waving instrumentals, sweeping melodies and a strong Animals As Leaders meets Pelican vibe. However, with the focus solely on the music’s sole architect, the pleasure of watching him (and indeed the rest of the band) noodle away, head down, performing string gymnastics, wore off rather quickly. Even with the rhythmic slides hitting neck-breaking grooves and with Sithu’s own baby brother’s bass thumping away it all too quickly began to feel like watching a YouTube masterclass. If I wanted that I’d have headed over to the mysterious Hangar 3 – they’ve been giving guitar demos out there all weekend to a small crowd of cross-legged die-hards. Perhaps I should sit down? No better not – there are a few bobbing heads and thoughtful scratching of chins so perhaps the same die-hards were in! Even when the pace lifted it soon settled back into swing – honest to God, there was some bloke next to me at the barrier checking his own Facebook feed.

AD: Fallujah was the band I’d come to see. Judging by the t-shirts, I wasn’t alone. After the release of the band’s impeccable “Dreamless” album earlier this year, there was nowhere else I wanted to be today. The musical machine gun started. Brutality, subtlety, expansive guitar sounds, pumping drums and flashing lights were just some of the ingredients. The bass rumbled through, up and over us. A circle was formed and the moshing began. Technicality was overlaid with the brutally explosive core and the intransigent sound wall. This set’s output was heavier than I remembered “Dreamless” to be. It was good. “Abandon”, one of my favourite tracks on the “Dreamless” album and for me the highlight of the live set today, was heavy to the point of being apocalyptic, but then in the same piece came the subtle shimmerings of the guitar from the heavy progressive end of the spectrum. Ethereal guitar work, djent rumblings and bass and drum thunder combined. The mosh pit raged.

The spectators around me looked stunned. “If you like technical and melodic metal, you’re in the right place”, pronounced the vocalist when introducing “Scar Queen”. Epic structures fell out of this sophisticated technical metal.  Fallujah continued to tear us apart with the technically infused “The Dead Sea”. We heard an ambient passage. “Are you ready to wake up?” asked the vocalist. In fact I concluded it wasn’t about waking up but grasping the complexity here. So much was going on with the mesmerising guitar passages, epic sections, deathcore vocals, massive explosions and the enormity of sound that the thoughtful elements of the crowd relied upon motivation from the vocalist. I lost count of the number of times that he barked out instructions: “make some noise”, “I need you to headbang/jump/whatever”. The prompting was necessary. It was as if the crowd needed rehearsals for this multi-layered feast. We jumped to order to “The Void Alone” before enjoying a more chilled-out section, then finally we were treated to the thunderous depths and headbanging properties of “Sapphire”. I sensed universal appreciation around me of the vastness and range, but the reaction of the audience confirmed to me it was also difficult to grasp. It was a great show from Fallujah, with great moments of majesty, but it was a lot to take in and I concluded that we needed prior preparation for such sheer enormity.

JS: Progressive chaos is probably the best way of describing Canadian quintet Protest the Hero. I could list their names but it seems more appropriate to list them as “black beard”, “bare feet”, “beach sandals”, “giant ginger beard” and “backwards cap”. They launched into a quick one-two, “Bloodmeat” and “Sequoia Throne”, raining down maniacal string rushes onto the bouncing fans before silence fell. Frontman Rody Walker stepped up to the mic and announced that as these two were their best songs, “it’s all downhill from here”. Ah, that dry Canadian sense of humour. And with that the pace of the gig was set. Short bursts of violent, tight, abortive arrhythmia littered with Walker’s heartfelt, effusively melodic cleans and then a long pause to deliver another barbarously witty comment or pre-organised sideshow. With a marriage proposal, some law-breaking, a tour story and a couple of stage dives from Sithu Aye all included, the gig began to feel like a bit of a cabaret act. Now whether you lap that up or yearn for more of the music is a personal choice but myself and a large proportion of the pit were grinning like Cheshire cats.

“C’est La Vie”, “Hair Trigger” and “Limb From Limb” went down a storm with those famous scrambling guitars pulling polyrhythms and staccato breaks as if from the ether. Then, with the band downing tools, Walker broaches politics for his next dig – “How do you guys feel about Brexit?” A mixture of boos and cheers, naturally, goad him into “You lot are fucked up!” His constant ribbing of the crowd and the perfect marriage of wry smile and an accepting British public meant the skits went down a storm. And if all else fails he had self-deprecation to fall back on. As an example, we are treated to some freestyle rapping on “…this stupid fucking progressive metal rap song” which it turns out Rody loathes. “I fucking hate it – I’ll try not to pass out”. With the party in full swing it’s easy to see why this lot were originally named Happy Go Lucky! As the gig swung round to its inevitable encore, the high-pitched crowd whoops picked up and all hell broke loose as they rewarded us with “Mist” from 2013’s stonking “Volition” album. The full stop was provided by the samba dance track which kicked in from the sound system as the lights go up and an exhausted crowd filter outside. Time to reflect on another superb day witnessing the brightest and best at tech metal’s premier UK festival.

Full review here: http://www.avenoctum.com/2016/07/uk-techfest-newark-showground-9716/
UK TechFest Website here: http://uktechfest.com

Live Review: A Day In The Life Of UK Tech-Fest 2014 – Newark Showground, 13/7/14

After the over-riding success of last year’s event, Tech-Fest returned bigger, bolder and brighter. This year saw the team take over the Newark Showground with its simple access to hangars for the stages, merch stands, bar and promoters. Not to mention the outbuildings for the loos, food facilities and adjacent closely-cropped field with running water for the campers. Of course the nearby run-off strip that allowed for parking was a bonus too. On the downside, and it is a downside. Once all the speaker stacks, assorted lighting rigs and accompanying band gear had been rolled into place it was immediately apparent that the stages themselves were too low, too tight and too far back from the barriers. Once those hangars started filling up, there was only ever going to be a clear line of sight for the first few rows. That was an unforgivable oversight and, word of warning, one that will undoubtedly impinge upon this review.

On the Sunday that Ave Noctum rolled up, tail between legs, it was apparent that plenty of other djentlemen had taken up the challenge with 800 camping tickets sold and 200 more walking in on day tickets. Of those punters that this reviewer encountered, there were plenty of happy faces with the majority of those dining out on the positives rather than dwelling on any perceived negatives. For most, this entire event was a simple godsend, being less about all that unwanted promotional garbage, unnecessary levels of security and ridiculous pricing that so afflicts the big name festivals. The fact that the bands that they loved were here playing their hearts out (not filling up the bottom support slots elsewhere), supporting each other and walking amongst their fans, was the only thing that really mattered to the attendees.

Thrown straight into the action, the first band up were Shields who, accompanied by stage two’s mad lighting set-up (hangar-flooding strobes and big strip lights burning holes in retinas throughout), tore into their set with energetic abandon. The heaps of echo on vocalist Joe Edwards was as much to do with the spacious metal hangar as whatever delay had been added through the sound-desk. Edwards and floppy-haired guitarist Sam Kubrick’s wild stage antics (one bouncing whilst snapping his neck violently, the other shooting himself in the chin with his fingers as he sprayed out water) deserved better than being met with bleary-eyes and folded arms but their hefty, inventive metalcore grooves certainly set heads gently nodding.

Aeolist lead vocalist Bradley Gallacher made great use of a flight-case to raise himself above the crowd. Sporting a network of tattoos and augmented lobes (one fashioned into a teardrop, the other boasting a huge tunnel), his slow prowl, lascivious leer and eyeballing of the crowd certainly loosened a few bowels. More so, the entire band’s utter abandonment to their post-rock noodling (closed eyes, heads bobbing, swaying gently) made each passage of scathing death vocal even more effective. Part-Contortionist, part-Between The Buried And Me, they certainly proved beyond doubt that they know a thing or two about the art of flow.

Featuring a Mikael Akerfeldt lookalike on vocals and bursting with NWOBHM and thrash-light tendencies, Aeon Zen seemed a little over-reliant on their introductory samples to get each song going but when they hit their stride there was plenty of warm, soft ambient keys courtesy of Tom Green. Sadly, it all felt a little tacked together and considering the fact that they were deemed strong enough to tour with the great Devin Townsend, that’s somewhat of a disappointment.

Saving the day (replacing Destiny Potato who had to pull out), Exist Immortal over on stage one absolutely nailed it. Their death-heavy tech fired up the slowly-massing crowd into a bout of fist-pumping and frontman Meyrick de la Fuente made certain we reached a peak of frenzy for the big hit “Edge Of Infinity” from their debut full-length. With all that hair flying about it was hard not to buy into each and every swirling, hammering groove.

Italy’s Destrage were an utterly manic burst of colour. No matter which genre you tried to stick them in (melodeath / metalcore / progressive metal) these Italians had a way of breaking free. Thanks to all the samples and a vast, floor-shaking bass drum, it sounded more like Rage Against The Machine were playing Nintendo against Dragonforce. Utterly bonkers from beginning to end. You had guitarist Matteo Di Gioia looking like Ali G, sporting a black beard, blonde crop, knee-length socks and a spasming body and singer/rapper Paolo Colavolpe tearing into the first few rows to deliver his invective in torrents.

As Chicago trio Alaya hit stage one, everything changed. So accomplished, tight and superbly emotive were they, that there was an instantaneous sense that the thrilling mayhem of the support acts had ended and the assured pomp of the headliners had begun. With stonkers like “Grace”, “Sleep” and “Poor Gloria” threading their way through the minds and mouths of the crowd, the soft floating cascades and arpeggios that surrounded the infectious choruses hit home and moved heads. With such little material to choose from there was a tendency for a mid-set slackening of impact, but with frontman Evan Graham Dunn literally bubbling over with enthusiasm (“We’re having the time of our lives at this festival. It’s been worth every dollar and every mile”) it was easy to become completely immersed in the performance.

Having left bereft guitarist Chris Purvis behind, Friend For A Foe  made sure they paid due tribute and enjoyed the moment. After losing Chris Barreto to Monuments we were blessed with multiple vocalists tonight with regular leggy blonde Max Curnow taking the lead role. The alternate blonde, Nikki Simmons (Drewsif Stalin), played a superb cameo skipping her way into the crowd before cheerfully ending with a “Thank-you for letting me party with you guys”. The pumped-up guitarists were soon in with us too and Curnow quickly followed, fighting his way into the crowd only to sink to his knees to scream his heart out. There was a bit of mic trouble and a few holes in the sound but their infectious energy made for compulsive viewing.

Aliases were able to laugh away stage two’s continuing “technical fuck-ups” by offering the crowd plenty of foot-on-amp posturing as Pin (ex-SikTh) and Leah Woodward hammered away at their guitars. It all made for a blindingly intense experience, both sonically and visually (those strobes again).

With a shift back to the main stage, there was a sudden sense of abandon, the pit properly began to kick-off and it was all due to those happy-go-lucky Eggheads The Safety Fire (9/10). Each of their firecracker numbers like “Old Souls” and “Mouth Of Swords” sparked a new bout of bouncing bodies as fists punched the sky. Amongst it all one overzealous fan was manhandled from the venue (never a pleasant side) by some pretty heavy-handed security who seemed desperate to calm the fervour. The taped segues brought a certain element of calm to proceedings but those titans of scrambling tech had their moment of genius to blow our minds and the high-pitched climax of “Beware The Leopard (Jagwar)” was it as vocalist Sean McWeeney hit that insane top-note.

The Ocean were restricted a little by their surroundings. Undoubtedly, that pesky sun peeking through the roof and the downsized stage set didn’t allow for complete immersion in their moody masterpiece Pelagial. They still made a fist of it though with the lighting crew doing a grand job of throwing blues and purple spots down at them. There was also a scattering of interesting filaments shining out from on stage and their enigmatic ocean blue bubble-boards offered a visual piece of the puzzle to connect to. Without the band backlit and the enigmatic video to fall back on though (something that so powered their own intimate tour performances) the show lacked the necessary impact. However, this being Tech-Fest we did get a robot dancing in the crowd so it wasn’t all a wash-out! The joys of those soft builds and the deep, scarring, all-encompassing vocal attack of Loïc Rossetti was immense. Time and again, he ran forward to scream into the faces of his adoring fans. Robin Staps was equally monstrous as with head hung he hammered out the doomy strains of the emotional “Bathyalpelagic II”. Against all the odds, they’d only gone and left us dazed and confused once more.

With UK progressive metal godfathers SikTh reforming and headlining here, you could forgive the venue for packing them in until catching a glimpse of the band became a matter of Darwinian theory. The stronger and more determined won out leaving this old sod with little to view but a red glow and the occasional choice bobbing of Mikee Goodman’s dread-covered head as he mounted the barrier. What was heard was more than enough to inspire. Referring to the mayhem before him, Goodman’s satisfied cry of “Having been gone seven years you don’t expect this kind of shit” said it all. You only had to know how much this all meant to the crowd from the reverential chanting that emerged from every mouth in the venue as “When Will The Forest Speak…?” rung out. With Goodman leading them like some deranged puppeteer the whole gig became an utterly cathartic experience. A place of worship – where else would a chant for the festival organiser kick off? Yet here we were hearing “Si-mon, Si-mon” spinning round the hangar. Mr. Garrod must have shed a tear, this event being a real labour of love for him. Like the fans, he too must have been in his element as “Sanguine Seas Of Bigotry” kicked the conveyor belt of crowdsurfers off. Sadly, as “Wait For Something Wild” left us with jaws agape this reviewer had to tear himself away.

Old Father Time is such a cruel master, but even he might have moshed a little that night that SikTh preached to their disciples once more.

Festival Website = http://uktechfest.com
This review also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2014/07/uk-tech-fest-newark-showground-13714/