Davey Suicide (with Griever, Abandon the Weak, and KillyVarder) at Plymouth Underground - January 26, 2018

You feel like you're the only human in an undead crowd, waiting until you learn to die, to join the masses, because we came to the underground alone, and though you're comfortable here, you’re not ‘one of them’.

This is how I felt having entered The Underground in Plymouth on Friday night to see Davey Suicide, a band that, surprisingly, escaped my radar in all the years I have been listening to metal music. I’d been here before, no problem, but I was meeting some friends, and without a clue when they would arrive, I simply had to do my best to blend in. Only when local support band KillyVarder stepped up to the stage could I finally turn my attention away from pretending to be engrossed in my phone. The thing which immediately struck me was the way the bass made my heart literally feel like lead as its heavy chords pressed into my chest to fill the small room. The second thing was how similar in sound they were to Metallica and Bullet for my Valentine with their driving guitar riffs and heavily percussive drum work. It made me feel a little more at home as these were familiar bands to me. The vocalist, Tony Jackson, meanwhile, exhibited another of KillyVarder’s influences with a voice which combined the gruff guts of James Hetfield with the height of Iron Maiden’s Bruce Dickinson. Unable to see the stage too well through the sizable crowd, however, I had to make do with brief glimpses of whirling hair – that of bassist Jack Salmon – and the strangely serene pose of guitarist Cieran Goodhall, nodding along beside his more energetic brethren. By the end of their set, my friends had arrived, bearing the news that they would be the most enviable hostesses of tonight’s headliner, providing a place for them to crash before they took on Bridgwater the next day. I could hardly believe my ears. As much as I envied them, I wouldn’t know what to do if it were me, opening my house to metal monarchy (excuse the alliteration, I couldn’t help myself). Fortunately, the second local support band, Abandon the Weak, were able to shake me out of my daydream.

Taking their cues from the likes of Meshuggah and Pantera, they delivered a crushing volley of guitar and headbanging drums which meant it was the floor this time which was vibrating beneath my one-inch thick boot soles. I needn’t have worried about not being able to see, however, as vocalist Garf Davies seemed content to spend most of his time atop the speakers at the front of the stage, despite what appeared to be a knee injury. From this position, his line ‘I am your god, you will obey me’, growled in the gritty cadences of Phil Anselmo and Devildriver's Dev Fafara, was made that much more domineering, convincing me that the weak would indeed have to be abandoned. Getting a little closer to the stage, hair windmills started to fly and a simmering boogie was starting in the imminent mosh pit, but by the end, this failed to reach boiling point. In the short break, my brain, trying to unscramble the possible influential overtones, convinced me to buy something alcoholic – not that I needed it – and I began to feel the task of reviewing the night wouldn’t that difficult. That was until Bournemouth metalcore band Griever arrived.

Mysteriously cloaked in fog and blue lights, I was already intrigued – and more than a little blinded – but as the lights dimmed, something reminiscent of Cancer Bats and Crossfaith tore its way through the gloom with unrelenting force, much like a sports car. The metallic rumble of Duncan Callaghan on bass idled smoothly in the background, but it was the speed and raw power of Johnny Halpin’s guitar and lead vocalist David Seymour’s bittersweet marriage of Liam Cormier and Oli Sykes, which threatened to give me road rash. My salvation came from the poignancy of guitarist and vocalist Luke Davis’ melodic choruses, weaving throughout with a nod to fellow Innersound Studios band, Asking Alexandria. I don’t know what I had been expecting from any of the support acts that night, but Griever most definitely made their mark, and by the love they feel for their fans, it almost seemed as if they knew it. Despite always making a fool of myself talking to bands after their gig, I managed to chat comfortably with David, hoping my road rash metaphor wasn’t too weird, and didn’t spontaneously combust when given a hug by Johnny. For a band as fiery onstage as the whiskey company endorsing them, they didn’t half leave me with a warm glow. At least until the main act started their engines.

Davey Suicide. The aesthetic of this band was as much a deciding factor in me buying a ticket to the gig as the name itself. Having no prior knowledge, aside from the promise delivered by ‘Torture Me’ and the influence of Marilyn Manson, I was not entirely prepared for the red-eyed scarecrow that was vocalist Davey Suicide swaying like a snake behind his mic. Manson’s characteristic guttural purr came through in his voice, as did his love for costume, appearing with devil horns and a ringleader’s striped coattails throughout the night, as well as an army helmet labelled ‘War’ for ‘End of the War’. (Does that make it the literal suicide of Davey Suicide?) Meanwhile, his undead bandmates, black eyes gazing from pale white faces, thrashed in homage to another influential band, Pennsylvanian mod rockers Motionless in White. From the energy of their music, rising and falling like a broken love song, and the way they filled the stage, nearly braining themselves on the low ceiling, it became clear they were made for bigger venues. Yet the intimacy of the room somehow felt right, as if we had been invited in, leaving our exes, our troubles – and, in my case, my entire degree – at the door, as if these songs were made for us. At least, it felt that way when I heard ‘No Angel’ was about that girl ‘you thought was a prude’ – for a moment, I

Niko Gemini

almost recognised myself. But the surprises didn’t end there as the call went up for a solo, which guitarist Niko Gemini supplied. As I tried (but failed) to artfully express to him after the show, guitar solos have always been one of my major draws when it comes to rock/metal music, just as much for the way they sound as the technique of their execution, so it was a privilege to see as well as hear Niko playing his instrument like an extension of himself. I must have said something right last night though, because I got another Famous Hug (as I would like to call them). Towards the end of the show, that simmering energy leftover from Abandon the Weak boiled up into a small mosh pit for the band’s debut song, ‘Generation Fuck Star’ – and with a heavy jumping beat and infectious tune, who could blame them? I, however, decided to duck out of the way of the slamming and flying limbs, having been caught in a much bigger mosh pit at a recent Korn gig in London. All the same, I didn’t want it to end. My ears were ringing, my neck ached from head-banging, and my boots were starting to hurt, but I knew that tomorrow, I had to go back to reality.

I said to their drummer, Decker, that I couldn’t say anything bad about the gig, even though I do an English degree which requires me to be critical. He said, treat it like a piece of fiction, and to be fair, this feels like I’ve written a Grimm’s fairy tale (probably took me as long too). Maybe some day, I’ll have the guts or the skill to look deeper; for now, I just want to put my own unique spin on how music makes me feel.