Old Man Gloom find delirium in the depths
JAKE OWENS
YOU COULD COUNT on your hands and feet the number of people in the Underworld when PETBRICK take the stage. That is criminal. The noise punks are the side-project of former Sepultura man Iggor Cavalera, easily one of the best drummers in heavy music. It’s his idiosyncratic smacking that drives the duo, his tribal-sounding snare instantly bouncing off the walls. Add in Wayne Adams’ cataclysmic noise samples and you have an oppressive half-hour that DIVIDE AND DISSOLVE can’t touch. On record, Takiaya Reed and Sylvie Nehill are an arresting drone metal force. Their cacophonous guitars and powerhouse drums are accompanied by subtle nuances that honour their indigenous roots. Here, though? The intricacies are lost in the venue’s blackness, making this pair sound more akin to a drummer slowly warming up at a construction site. Takiaya is also a painfully uncharismatic frontwoman between songs. Speeches about vital topics like colonialism and dismantling borders transform into awkward ramblings about how “punk” Camden is, and they go on forever. Sadly, this is a set with all the poise and skill of something at a secondary school open mic night.
In stark contrast, OLD MAN GLOOM sound like they’ve been genetically engineered to be the perfect post-metal performers. Of course, their prestigious line-up includes members of Isis, Converge and Cave In, but their penchant for darting from noise music to ear-battering heaviness will always make them a dynamic jolt live. Tonight is no exception. The first moshpit of the evening ignites immediately after that initial blast of guitar chords and never lets up. Guitarists Nate Newton and Aaron Turner lead the juggernauts’ vocal attack, although it’s actually bassist and backing singer Stephen Brodsky who flaunts the most intense pipes. His roar could slice London in two, which starkly contrasts with his merry demeanour onstage.
First and foremost, Old Man Gloom have always been a conglomeration of old mates from the Massachusetts metal scene, and their flawless chemistry spotlights that. Joyous smiles are frequently traded, before Sleeping With Snakes shows off a flicker of rock’n’roll theatre. Newton, Turner and Brodsky all lift their instruments and drop them at the same time, perfectly coinciding with drummer Santos Montano’s blasting percussion. Both the band and their fans have found happiness in the dankest depths of post-metal’s quagmires, and it makes for a night of communal catharsis in the capital.