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We Are the
Ocean/Chickenhawk/Proceed
, Hotham
Street
9th October 2010
Reviewed by
In the sweltering environs of the Academy 2, the popped-up metal of Proceed
tumbles from the PA. Occupying the same polished, commercial-metal niche
as Lostprophets, they share the same overwrought emotional vocals as the
Welsh band. The ‘we’re filming a music video, so you need
to get down the front’ ruse works effectively as the crowd is propelled
stagewards in the hope of possibly being featured. The suspicion that
many of the current crop of ‘metal’ bands are merely McFly
with heavier guitars is an impression that isn’t dispelled by the
current act. A cliché, yes, but strip away the volume and the distortion
pedals and it remains a reasonably accurate description. The glumness,
or rather aloofness exhibited by metal bands traditionally isn’t
replicated here as their frontman is closer in spirit to, well, someone
out of McFly, Metro Station, or (God help us) The Jonas Brothers as he
plugs the product and exhorts the audience to join in. Their final track,
powered by a synth pulse that is more prominent than the trashing guitars
with the addition of a vocoder would sound far nearer to Scissor Sisters
than Black Sabbath.
Although Nerve may be present largely to watch Chickenhawk who follow
next, it seems that the vast majority of the audience quite clearly aren’t.
A term coined to describe US pundits who strongly advocate military action
yet avoided having to serve themselves (that means you, Dubya and Dick
‘Five Vietnam Deferments’ Cheney), the ‘Hawk’s
bludgeoning attack places them far nearer titans like Metallica than the
pop kids of earlier. The surge in volume and intensity leaves a huge section
of the audience dumbfounded however and in spite of the conviction on
display, the first two tracks finish to almost complete silence. Undeterred
they plough on, with a few patrons laudably making the effort to jump
around, but the massed outbreak of pogoing seen earlier vanishes.
The band admirably don’t appear to care either way, leaving feedback
whistling out of their amps between tracks to mask the non-response of
the audience. Hailing from Leeds, a city long associated with all things
goth, the group thunder along on elastic band basslines, boasting a rhythm
section that bends and flexes like a suspension bridge in a hurricane.
In marked contrast to earlier, virtually nothing is said between songs
in stark contrast to the over-enthusiastic plugging of Proceed.
Complementing the seamless bass guitar-bass drum interface, their guitarist
throws some classic rock shapes with frequent Pete Townsend-esque windmilling.
With a sticksman who has the chops in abundance to play this insanely
fast they reroute Seattle via the Pennines one track resembling a close
cousin of Nirvana’s Negative Creep, with the same desperate, strangulated
vox. Key track NASA vs. ESA, concerning the US-Soviet space race, hinges
on the couplet “Take me to the moon man/In a tin can” providing
self-deprecation and avoiding My Chemical Romance style self absorption.
I Hate This, Do You Like It? the group’s most recognisible song
provides the finale. Built on a chassis of frantic Eddie Van Halen string
tapping and machine gun drumming, the rhythm section slams down like a
drop forge in a steel works, recalling Sabbath’s proto-industrial
thud. As tight and sinewy as on record, the stop-start dynamics of the
track finally wins over a few converts as they leave the stage to modest
applause.
Walking onstage to an intro tape that sounds like a poor man’s
version of The Omen theme, We Are the Ocean head back to the default McFly/Linkin
Park setting mined by Proceed earlier. Despite having double the number
of guitarists, compared to Chickenhawk’s one, We Are the Ocean’s
axemen are roughly half as effective. Repeatedly bellowing at the audience
to “make some noise”, the entire venue seemingly heaves forwards.
The stock formula patented by Linkin Park almost a decade ago of screechy
vocals/anthemic rock choruses is adhered to rigorously, as the crowd -
frustrated by Chickenhawk’s rude imposition midway through the evening
- go wild. Whilst there is no denying the obvious skill displayed in precision
tooled pop-metal tracks such as Nothing Good Has Happened Yet, if the
ever present screamo vocals were removed sonically the track resembles
an early U2 track. Welcome to my Broken Home meanwhile races past in a
blur of military drumming, frantic riffing and tuneful choruses that doesn’t
add up to the sum of its parts in the way Chickenhawk seamlessly blended
the same elements earlier in the evening.
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