Batushka ensure that all Hell breaks loose

Kanonenfieber take an OTT approach to black/death metal

REMFRY DEDMAN

GERMAN MELODIC BLACKENED death metal troop KANONENFIEBER employ a dramatic aesthetic, which feels fitting for tonight’s show. Ringleader ‘Noise’ and company come dressed in army-style uniforms and black face coverings, looking like a ghost legion amidst a siege of smoke, snow and, at one point, even a black Christmas tree utilised to accentuate music influenced by genuine documentation recovered from World War I.

They certainly leave an impression, with a surge of bodies amassing at the merch stand once their set comes to a close, and while they were only conceived in 2020, they’ll undoubtedly be making waves in the years to come.

However, it’s nothing compared to the theatrics of BATUSHKA –this being the incarnation helmed by Krzysztof Drabikowski after the band split into two versions, and perceived by many to be the ‘real’ keepers of the flame. The stage, bathed in a sinister red light, is adorned with a coffin, a skull, candles, a pulpit, lit incense, banners and –after a lengthy, tension-building intro –seven figures in monastic robes that conceal their identities. The set mirrors the Eastern Orthodox practices that have inspired Batushka’s music, more specifically the ritual ofа Panihida П –a solemn service enacted for the repose of the departed in the Eastern Orthodox Church.

Aptly, Batushka play their second album (named after the aforementioned liturgy) in full, and it gives their shows a particular sense of pomp and ceremony that only black metal can offer. It’s a compelling stage set-up, even if the band are somewhat static –the majesty of the event gradually seeps away over the course of the 75-minute set. The aesthetics are secondary to music anyway, and Batushka’s tunes are extraordinary –an all-consuming amalgamation of black metal and theological chanting that reverberates around a vortex of the angelic and the demonic.

Playing an album in full can be a fool’s errand, but Panihida flows expertly in a live environment, with the album’s nuances captured perfectly by the addition of backing vocalists that bring the liturgical throat singing to stirring life. Four selected cuts from Batushka’s 2015 album, Litourgiya, round off the set, but it’s the ceremony taken as a whole that really sticks in the mind. The epithet ‘ritual’ has been bandied around by many bands when describing their own shows, but with Batushka, it seems a truly fitting label.

MAGGOT HEART NAUT

THE BLACK HEART, LONDON

Sadly, NAUT frontman Gavin Laubscher no longer gesticulates like Nick Cave with a bunch of ferrets down his trousers. His relatively restrained performance is indicative of anew level of confidence running though the goth/post-punk quartet, though. Jack Welch’s Billy Duffy-esque guitar lines and the primitive grooves are a driving force behind a series of fevered trawls that get the Black Heart dancing like there’s actually no tomorrow. MAGGOT HEART sound genuinely vital tonight: fierce, vulnerable, bustling and inquisitive, as if all human life is erupting throughout their songs. Punk rock lies at their base, but it’s more the spikier, restless 90s US strain, tracks such as the opening Second Class reeling and heaving in its intoxicated urban sprawl, as Linnéa Olsson’s taut sneer sounds both defiant and beset by demons. Between songs she talks about the state of the world being internalised as anxiety and the need to find aflame to fight back, and the likes of Concrete Soup’s tensile Voivod-esque whirl are a search for inner certainty among chaos. It’s all forged in the trio’s obviously close, telepathic bond and in a freewheeling sonic adventurism that feels like an act of absolute necessity. JONATHAN SELZER

COREY TAYLOR

EVENTIM APOLLO, LONDON

Corey Taylor might be best known for Slipknot, but he’s been just as busy with his other band, Stone Sour, as well as forays into solo material –and tonight is a celebration of all three. “Welcome to the party, you crazy motherfuckers,” he grins after Post Traumatic Blues, before pulling out deep cut Tumult from Stone Sour’s 2002 debut. He draws on a wealth of material from his life, along with an ill-judged cover of the SpongeBob SquarePants theme that nestles between Slipknot’s Before I Forget –which the crowd predictably go apeshit for –and Snuff. The setlist is all over the place, to say the least, but he’s clearly revelling in it, even if the crowd can’t clap in time for more than a few seconds. “Alright, get it out of your fucking system,” he quips at one point when the crowd chant his name. The staging is a lot less elaborate than his usual, but it’s still hugely indulgent as an evening, celebrating as it does the musical legacy of one man. Corey’s worn many masks and been called many things, but if there’s anything that’ll remain constant, it’s his remarkable ability as an entertainer, and tonight delivers massively.

WILL MARSHALL