Words – @splinters_and_nails
Photos – @djsedick & @splinters_and_nails
On the morning of my 28th day working streak, as I poured my morning coffee as a final step before speeding out the door, I realised that it was friday and that I had not booked any work for the weekend. I would finally get a weekend. Thoughts of a low and lazy weekend took hold; some family time, maybe a pint or two of Real Ale, something on the bbq and, most importantly, couch time.
My lady love called me after she had dropped of our daughter at school for our daily briefing and remind me of the two parties that my daughter had on this weekend. My Friday vibes dropped as I realised that couch time had just slipped through my fingers.
I went back to cutting cement sheet for a billionaire’s spa garden bed less enthused with a keen eye on the smoko alarm.
The sun was out for two-pie-four-sauce o’clock which slightly lifted the lethargy but after returning to the cancer dust sheets, about to make making my first cut of the afternoon, my phone dinged with a notification from school, there was head lice in daughter’s class, again.
My daughter takes after both me and my lady love, she has thick, unruly hair, a perfect hiding place for those blood sucking dots. And being the parent with superior eye site, it has become my duty to peer through my daughter’s hair one layer at a time on a hunt for anything that moves. And no, the shampoos and treatments don’t cut it, my daughter’s hair is a haven for the critters. There it was, the final nail in the coffin, I couldn’t even have Friday night to do sweet nothing.
I arrive home that afternoon, knackered and covered in cancer dust, do the ritual hellos and kisses before jumping the shower to get two minutes of down time. I got out of the shower, headed down stairs embracing my destiny of busy dad weekend, that’s when the phone rang, it was my friend, Dan, what a lovely surprise.
Dan is the sort of person who would concealed carry a hand gun if she lived in Texas, not because she likes guns or violence, because she is a master of confrontation, a quality I appreciate in a friend, direct.
Dan was calling with an invite to Burton C. Bell at the corner,
“Who”
“The guy from Fear Factory”
“Oh, cool. Fuck yeah”
Buttons C. Bell, I bet his hair wouldn’t be a dream home for lice.
So here I am, 28 days of work, a late-night peering into sandy hair looking for dots with fangs, an excessively loud and overcrowded roller blade party later, worn out but not down, on a train to the Corner Hotel in Richmond. Let’s hope tired grumpy dad doesn’t fall asleep at the bar before doors open.
The Last Martyr took the stage in style, hair loud, instruments louder, with some hard-hitting tunes that took advantage of some serious strobing.
Dan was kind enough to let me commandeer her camera to shoot these Muppets doing their thing. It was good fun to dust off my trigger finger and The Last Martyr pulled out all the stops with some huge energy to capture. Up front in the photo pit I was blasted with a wall of sound as the crunchy staccato riffs of this cyber pop metalcore quartet flooded from the stage. These new djenty bands don’t usually tickly me the right way but something about the aggression and passion that was on display won me over.
The drummer was on point, holding all the noise and layers together with tight double kick precession and a steady drive. Unfortunately, he was set up on the far left corner with half of fuck all lighting on him, sorry mate, you look great hitting things but I’m not sure any of the photos capture your skills.
Mid set The Last Martyr dropped a cover of Bomfunk MC’s Freestyler, that definitely got the crowd moving. The metalcore kids kept the power delivery high, only lulling temporarily at noisy industrial interludes presumably to give the strobe lights a breather.
Honestly, I wasn’t expecting all that from these hip young kids but they blew this tired dad’s socks off. If you ever get a chance to see them live, you should definitely drag your ass out. The Last Martyr, very nice.
The wait for C. Bell was starting to get to me.
Come on mate, I’ve got ears that need to bleed, I’m in a rush. But I had to content myself with drinking cider next to the mixing booth while Dan prepared her trigger finger for the main event, I hope I didn’t mess up her camera settings too much, good luck Dan.
Burton C. Bell took the stage with the power and presence that only a true veteran can, commanding the attention of all eyes and ears in the space with the charisma of a cult leader.
Track two, dog day sunrise, I mean name a better track two! The laid-back industrial vibes seduce you deeper into the cult. The tempo change and simplicity of Burton C. Bell and the Bell Band compared to The Last Martyr is hypnotic. Steady lights, moody Track three is the ripsnorter Drive Boy, Shooter from his recording with Geezer Butler, the bass player who needs no introduction, what a treat.
Fuck his voice is great, growl at me more Burton C. Bell!
The rest of the set was a nice mix of C. Bells entire career including, Fear Factory classics like Descent and Repin, Ascension Of The Watcher’s track Ghost Heart, and his solo releases in a sort of greatest hits mash up. We were also teased with a new, as yet unrecorded track Cold Lazarus, can’t wait for more music for this legend of the stage.
Big Burton kept his low key, gravely cult like power through his time on stage at the corner and I lapped up every minute. The mid scooped over crunched industrial, What a Saturday night.
Massive thanks to the Corner Hotel Crew, Maric Media and SBM Presents for having us.
EVERYDAY METAL – SUPPORT LOCAL HEAVY METAL
