Saturday
June 9
It’s
bloody warm at Donington! If only post-hardcore favourites Aiden’s
turn on the main stage was so hot. I know Goths don’t like
sun-light…maybe that’s what’s killing their performance?
Nothing seems to work, although the band all play well they all seem
to playing a different song – metal solos are shoe-horned into
the middle of punk riffs, which are so inoffensive, weak and life-less
I wish they hadn’t bothered to play at all.
Still they
aren’t as bad as 30
Seconds To Mars who are like a trip to the dentist, only
more irritating and painful. Their only point of note is that Hollywood
actor Jared Leto is their front-man. After 5 minutes I wish that Leto
would recreate that scene in Fight Club where he gets his face smashed
in……anything to make him stop his whining.
Thank fuck
for Gallows!
Gallows are the real deal, no pretence, no posing and no gimmicks just
the most energetic, brutal, hardcore-punk rock going. The five lads
from Watford catapult the place into complete pandemonium, as Frank
Carter snarls, sneers and jerks around the stage screaming his odes
to life and love. The band know that that this is the place to prove
their worth and are proud to be on Donington’s hallowed grounds.
Calling ‘someone special’ phone Carter shouts ‘Say
hello to my fuckin’ mum’, tells her that he’s on stage
at Download and it’s on with the carnage.
By the time ‘Orchestra of Wolves’ acts as a feedback-drenched
finale, the sonic attack has claimed several mics, a drum-kit and much
of the crowd as victims. I’m battered, bruised and beaming –
no analysis needed - rock needs bands like Gallows.
Slayer
are….well…Slayer, doing what Slayer do – brutal and
fast thrash metal. There is no such thing as a band Slayer performance
and today is no exception. They should be on at Download everyday.
It’s
a shame to see such a small crowd gathered to see Satellite
Party, the importance of Perry Farrell in the history of
rock cannot be underestimated. Bounding on stage as exuberant as ever
Farrell sings ‘Here we go’ and his new band kick into ‘Stop’
by former band (and alt. rock trailblazers) Jane’s Addiction –
the crowd goes, rightly, mad. As with JA and other Farrell band Porno
For Pyros; when Satellite Party play their own tracks, like ‘Dogstar’
and ‘Kinky’ they flit effortlessly between styles, everything
they touch infused with a hard-rockin’, funky edge. Half an hour
of this rock n roll party is far too short but being treated to JA classics
‘Been Caught Stealing’, ‘The Mountain Song’
and Ain’t No Wrong, Ain’t No Right’ there’s
no way you can feeling short-changed.
Farrell
leaves the stage as a crowd gathers for a band that have more notoriety
than acclaim and are the poster-boys of the glam, ‘hair-metal’
scene – stupid songs, about being stupid for people who like stupid
hair and collecting STD’s – well that was my assumption.
‘Crue, Crue, Crue’ shout the assembled glam-rock hoard as
Motley Crue
play ‘Dr. Feelgood’. It does feel good, and I see the appeal
of this straight up good-time rock – for about two minutes, then
it dawns on me…..my initial assumptions were right. The Crue have
aged badly, their music is dated and all the drinking, drug-abuse and
disease has made them warped-leather-faced parodies of themselves, at
least in their hey-day they had youthful looks and energy on their side.
Like that annoying uncle at family parties who is desperately trying
to hang on to his youth by being down-with-the-kids and looking like
a twat, instead of accepting he isn’t as young as he used to be.
Motley Crue also look like twats, and when you get past the nostalgic
façade it becomes clear Tommy Lee isn’t that good a drummer
(he just hits them damn hard) and Vince Neil sounds like he has his
balls stuck in a vice (or a hard-rock smurf). I leave promptly as Neil
explains he was getting a blow-job back stage from two sisters….I
can’t help hate him. Not only is he on stage spreading his poor
excuse for music into the British air, but he’s also spreading
Chlamydia.
I need a drink!
by
Chris Marks
Friday
Sunday
