Clwb Ifor Bach, Cardiff
Tue 12 Mar
words: NOEL GARDNER
★★★☆☆
Using the term loosely, this show is part of a package tour, in that it features three bands, all from Scandinavia and displaying ample camararderie towards each other, and us. Are we looking forward to so-and-so? Did we enjoy the last band? Did you know that I am the singer from Kvelertak’s father? That last one comes courtesy of Ole ‘El Doom’ Andreassen – who fronts Norwegian opening band El Doom & The Born Electric, wears a cowboy hat, and presides over a stylised and often very good splice of Clutch, the Bad Seeds and 70s prog rock. Oh, and he also invents familial links to the headline band. Banterous, for sure.
On what may prove to be the coldest day of all of 2013, middle band Truckfighters dress as if they’re about to hit the beach. From Sweden, they are heroically out of sync with rock fashion in their uncomplex apery of Queens Of The Stone Age and (especially) Kyuss; they do it well, if that’s your bag, and have a great and thick guitar tone. Avoiding the torpor that is often associated with these kind of stoner rock bands, they bounce around the stage like itchy teens and venture into the audience on a couple of occasions.
Hailing from the Norwegian city of Stavanger, Kvelertak have existed in a non-local consciousness for nigh on three years, or since the release of their debut album. Kvelertak got enough people chattering to prick up Roadrunner Records’ ears; said multinational metal label release Meir, their second LP, this month. While it’s unlikely that they’re expected to be million-sellers, there is a definite accessible sheen to their songs – shoutalong choruses, melodic parts – which bely the black metal and metalcore iconography and Erlend Hjelvik’s throaty vocal roar.
They sound bloody awful for the first couple of songs in their set, with the sound levels making their combination of blastbeats and showy, dimly Turbonegro-ish glam-punk feel like an entirely messy clash. Eventually it gets better, as these things tend to. They really don’t need three guitarists, but at least it makes it look like a bit of a party up there, something helped by Hjelvik and his sweaty encouragement of a partisan if not overly wild audience.
Nekroskop, dedicated to the band’s road crew, is one of their best songs, existing midway between the Motörhead end of NWOBHM and the hardcore chunk of, say, Cursed. Månelyst (their songs are invariably in Norwegian, an admirably non-commercial stance), from the new album, has lots of onanistic soloing and guitars held vertically. The massed clapalongs are in effect even before the encore – one song only, confusingly titled Kvelertak, but an utterly corny albeit knowing anthem of self-celebration. It’s enough to get about 15 of the crowd up on stage to take over mics and guitars, increasing the warm communal feeling which, you detected, was already in effect on this tour. It probably won’t be close to the best gig any of these bands play, but flew the flag for modern Scando-metal cheerfully enough.
