Brighton Freebutt 24th April 2009
Devil Sold His Soul
Tonight heralded my first visit to the recently (I say recently, I really mean a fair while ago) refurnished and redesigned downstairs of the Freebutt, and I have to say I am a little disappointed, they seem to have gone for the ‘why have a good small area for close-knit energy exchange when you can stick a pillar right in front of the stage” type of interior design that a lot of venues tend to prefer these days, but ignoring my critique of the new layout first off we have the first two support bands…..
Whom I missed… so it certainly is an excellent start. Ok third time lucky; Shaped by Fate.
Ferocious, frustrated yet still fantastic.
This self decreed ‘Jager before doors’ tour was certainly not evident in the confrontational manner which SBF took to the stage, front-man Paul proved to be a formidable force prowling back and forth, passionately screaming into a microphone that could only pop and fizzle as it tried to contend with his hellish roars and therefore straight off the bat an irksome situation arose, along with a replacement lead to halt those irritating distortions, however a replacement crowd could not be found, much to the distaste of the ‘Fate. A new audience was in demand due to the static nature of the current one, an absence of wind-milling and two stepping was more than apparent and despite the valiant, not to mention pro-active, attempts to galvanise some life into the stationery masses, rigid they remained, but this review was intended to be on the band’s performance which was, despite being hindered by the aforementioned crowd and mic lead (also two guitar cables needed replacing and halfway through the set their drummer had to resort to single pedal duties after retiring half of his double kick), engaging, venomous and above all - rocking.
New song Gene Wilder was a storming pillage of the senses and judging by the fact that the band have sold out of compact discs, it looks like those “nice cunts” from south Wales will be around touring their arses off for the foreseeable future, which is certainly no bad thing, perhaps with a gnat’s wing’s width more crowd participation next time.
Crowd participation however was not something that Devil Sold His Soul concerned themselves with as they came bounding out blisteringly, firing on all cylinders (in fact thy may have borrowed some cylinders in an attempt at making an uber engine, the likes of a Veyron might only be able to keep up with). They don’t so much melt faces as vaporize them, leaving small piles of dust and the choking scent of smouldering hair left swirling around. Their scathing form of hardcore, which throws in elements of electronica, is a guttural bellow of intent. More metal than The Rise and far less pop than Enter Shikari, this band lurches and destroys like a fortification crushing colossus whose weapons aren’t fists and fire, they are epically built crescendos and pump-action beat downs.
Devil Sold His Soul sound like the movie Sunshine without the shitty serial killer/Event Horizon story line. Gargantuan and gleaming and even when they pause for respite the baying crowd demand more, which results in a Hellfest 2001 - Converge scenario with the microphone cutting out, yet vocalist Ed still manages to get his desperate screams heard over the startlingly thunderous meld of drums, bass, guitar and keys.
An apocalyptic end to a gig that continually teetered on a knife’s edge.
Listen: www.myspace.com/devilsoldhissoul & www.myspace.com/shapedbyfate