Life Sans Headphones

The following article is a rather pedestrian spiel about headphones; sorry about that.

I'll admit, I can be a bit of a snob when it comes to the devices I listen to my music with, but not in the obvious sense (no 'Sennheiser or GTFO' mentality here) I just know what I like.  What I happen to like are those silicon-shrouded earphones that nestle comfortably inside one's lug-holes, mainly because they produce a good amount of bass/tonal range.  They also have an added bonus of the people around me not being able to hear the tinny remnants of whatever I've chosen to endanger my hearing with on that particular commute, which I consider a kindness.

Speaking of commuting, music is the only thing that keeps me from going insane as a result of being crammed into various metal tubes for up to an hour at a time, nestling all-too-closely to the bustling masses' protruding extremities.  I can press my headphones into my ears, hit 'Play', close my eyes and fool myself into thinking that I am not actually trading armpit-sweat with the 19-stone Russian that I have been pressed against by the heaving commuter populous; at least until he moves and I get an updraft of the stench, dragging me back to the harsh reality that is the Northern Line at 8:30am.  

These distraction devices, which I had managed to hold on to for a considerable period up until last week, cost around £4 and I was content to keep them for as long as they functioned.  Sadly, due to the inevitability that comes with me being a fucking moron, I lost them in the very shop I spend 9 hours per day running around. I turned that place inside out in an evidently fruitless attempt to locate the damned things, finding nothing but disappointment, dust-coated pennies and long-lost relics that had been kicked underneath the photo lab as part of some bygone era.  

Defeated, I shuffled on home, having to bear the many loud, grating, screeching, wailing and downright off-putting sounds that London has to offer.  The next day, my journey to work seemed alien, as my ears were forced to soak in the repetitive train announcements, beeping doorways and the coup-de-grace, sniffling passengers.  One in particular would periodically inhale snot so sharply and violently through her sinuses that it was akin to someone tearing coarse sandpaper asunder, over and over again.  After the 10th time I was noticeably agitated; by the 30th time I found myself wishing some maniac would come in and flay her, or give her a damn tissue so she can liberate the mucus as well as our suffering.  In-between her nasal rasping I was being assaulted with the high-end of about three different genres of music coming from various people's headphones; I was in my own personal Hell.

By the end of the day I was unable to bear the prospect of being subjected to more unpleasant noise and purchased some cheap headphones from work; sadly these were not up to the task.  Actually, they were so poor that at first I didn't even recognise the track I was listening to.  It sounded like the music was being played whilst submerged inside a toilet cistern and I was standing on the other side of the bathroom door; In a word, terrible. 

I immediately went online with the intent of purchasing a like-for-like replacement but it seems they don't make that exact model any more; looks like I'll have to get with the times and grab myself a pair of Beats™.  Just kidding, I'd never stoop to such ridiculous levels, not even if my brain were on fire and those overpriced atrocities contained the facilities to extinguish such agony.

 - S.M

There was no point to this post other than to moan about how dependent on music I am to keep me from flensing the people around me.

Praeter Live @ Create - 27th July 2014

As a welcome change from my standard praise of already-established acts, I'd like to take time to address an as-yet little known hardcore/metal band by the name of Praeter.  These Kent-dwelling lads, half of which are good friends of mine, cropped up in early Autumn of last year with big dreams and ethanol-engorged livers.  They staved off the murky English winter with numerous jam sessions, bouts of song-writing and of course mountains of booze; an intrinsic lubricant to the creative process.

The photo that broke their 'awkward-band-shot' virginity. 

The fruits of the winter bore themselves bountifully in spring of this year, since then they've released two singles, one music video and have played a slew of live shows across the country, mostly in grungy pubs full of angry metalheads (not discrediting the enraged alternative community I hasten to add).  However, due to me being a terrible person under the guise of someone who never has any money to go places, I hadn't seen any of their live shows until last month where they played at a festival; naturally I elected myself as the photographer and local idiot.

I arrived on the day before they were set to play their afternoon slot only to promptly invite most of the band to a field party in the next town over, which ran long into the night.  Personally, a large section of that evening was a dizzying cyclone of narcotics and debauchery. I may also have had accidentally encouraged their bassist to imbibe a cocktail of fun chemicals, but that's another story in itself.

A deeply disturbing and sordid story.

Moving swiftly on, I awoke to find almost everyone gone and my head feeling like a melon that had been chucked out of a lorry which had been travelling at speed; I also had the prospect of an 11 mile bike ride ahead of me.  I promised I'd make it to their show, so I headed off, hoping the ride would sober me up and straighten me out a little.  It turned out to be of some help, despite a few close calls where I'd straight-up forgotten how to ride or lapsed into daydream-mode.  I eventually arrived at my destination in just over an hour as well as a couple of pints of sweat lighter.

The others were still asleep or getting ready upon my arrival, one of which stared out of their window in disbelief and uttered "did you just fucking ride here from where we were last night you crazy bastard?!" to which I issued an exhausted nod.  I was granted passage and slumped on the sofa whilst they prepared themselves for the afternoon ahead.  Focusing on the television required a huge amount of effort, but this activity was cut short by the bassist appearing and encouraging me to feel his unusually high pulse; it was evident that he was coming down rather heavily.

Didn't stop him playing like a pro, however.

After the singer had finished waxing his massive beard (for maximum effect) we loaded the car up with equipment and made our way on foot, as there was no room for passengers once all the noise-gear took residence.  On the way, the band's lead vocalist was addressing his ambivalence toward the impending show, reassuring himself that it will be okay because "it's only a local one".  He then took his phone out in order to blast some pre-gig pep-up music, during which time I could sense his focus narrowing as he prepared himself for the stage.

Everyone regrouped once at the festival itself and, after a hasty frisking by the security staff, we were granted passage.  Praeter's slot were still three acts away, as such the members began to mingle, talk about merch and undertake whatever rituals they felt helped prepare them for the concert.

Apparently this included mandatory man-hugging.

After some time it was finally their turn to embrace the stage of the  Right Track Music tent as Praeter, by far the most aggressive and energetic act to play at the festival that weekend, so much so that the emcee issued a disclaimer proclaiming as such.  The sound-check was predictably riddled with problems, as the lads on the mixing desk had been levelling for punk bands and acoustic acts up until that point.  It all evened out (to a fashion) and it wasn't long before they were finally ready to play.  I took a quick look around the tent to find that 90% of the crowd seemed to have turned up specifically to hear Praeter tear the festival a new one, which must have been a tremendous confidence boost for the lads.

They played an explosive and energetic set, roaring through several of their original songs which included their singles 'This Is Hell!' and the zomb-core(?) hit 'Patient Zero'.  They dedicated 'Brutality', a law enforcement-shaming automatic-shotgun barrage of a track, to a sadly-absent friend of the band.  Every member contributed vocals at some point during the set, be it gang-shouting or individual segments, all with the aggressive aplomb one would expect.

Dem screamz.

Incidentally, each individual member gave it their all; the guitarist was very animated, running about the stage and tossing his fringe-swept locks until they became a sweaty mess. The bassist, despite him probably feeling like the aftermath of a forest fire kept it tight and adopted a strong stance, even with the sound guys doing a dreadful job of keeping the low-end in the mix.  The drummer was precise, energetic, aggressive with his vocals and generally looked as if he was having a whale of a time.  The vocalist completely submitted himself to the performance, pacing around the stage to maintain his focus and belting out the metronome-accurate barks and inhuman screams he is known for.  His bearded face the picture of rage with each vocal outpouring, which showed just how much effort and focus he poured into the act.

Pictured: how to do a metal correctly.

They closed their set with a superb rendition of 'Troublemaker' by Olly Murs. During this final track, the vocalist launched himself into the crowd whilst still gripping the microphone and roaring into it; a sight to behold if I do say so myself.  During all this chaos it had began to rain quite heavily outside, drawing even more people into the tent; I feel that the larger crowd gave Praeter the energy boost to finish strong.

Someone ripped his shirt, HULK MODE ACTIVATED.

In summary, it was an amazing festival debut for the band, but it was a shame the sound team couldn't get their arses into gear when it was needed.  Luckily for Praeter, audio issues did very little to detract from the pure energy and precise musicianship these lads are clearly capable of.   I scorned myself for letting this be the first time seeing them, as I instantly wished I had gone to their previous shows to watch them grow as performers and musicians.  Suffice to say myself and others wish to hear more from these blokes, maybe in the form of an album soon...

These lads are a tough act to follow.

... right guys?

 - Sam

Praeter's single 'Patient Zero' is out right now, click on the pic to experience it!

Lamb of God - Wrath

It may come as very little surprise that deep in the recesses of my heart nestles a metalhead, though I am loath to use the term due to the somewhat misappropriated and negative connotations associated with it.  Nevertheless, in my wild youth I sported long hair and could be found throwing myself around at small-town Friday evening concerts, usually dancing and almost definitely inebriated.

I was also apparently deeply pretentious (Circa 2006)

Around the time I began to ebb away from that phase I was introduced to a band by the name of Lamb of God, namely through their album Ashes of the Wake.  I thought the groove-laden riffs, precise percussion and guttural yowls to be quite thrilling at first but slowly, through a desire to explore other genres over anything else, I let my interest in the band fall by the wayside.

It wasn't until perhaps two months ago that I decided to tune back in to heavy metal properly once more, a decision I am glad to have made, as no other music seems to make me feel that ineffable mix of excitement and energy it is known for.  Don't get me wrong, other genres have bent my mind in all manner of amazing directions but for me, metal hits that sweet spot, at least for now.

I regained interest in Lamb of God after watching a superb documentary about the band's legal struggle following the singer's accusation of injuring a fan at a show, leading to said fan's eventual demise.  It painted the band as very likeable, down-to-earth and emotionally diverse; the polar opposite of what their musical side portrays.  The soundtrack to the documentary was composed of the band's back-catalogue of songs, most of which I failed to recognise.  You can see now that my curiosity was piqued and I simply had to sate my need to familiarise myself with everything that they had recorded since 2005.

Of the three albums that I had lagged behind on (Sacrament, Wrath and Resolution), their sixth offering, Wrath, was the one that jumped out at me and aurally pummelled me into submission; not to say the others lacked in quality, but this one gripped me by the ears and totally arrested my attention for its duration.

The cover alone warrants high praise, or fear, depending on your mindset (Source)

The album opens with a near-saccharine southern-tinged acoustic number, which progresses into a lead-guitar intro before launching your head-first into the album proper to the sound of 'In Your Words'.  Within this one track, LoG not only reminded me why I liked them in the first place but showed me why I'd continue to like them even more than I had previously.  The vocal styling and range of Randy had improved vastly, which is saying a lot seeing as he already sounded brutal two albums previous.  The guitars sounded cleaner and more precise; the drumming was as punchy and tight as ever, whilst retaining a somewhat raw edge that was refreshing to hear.

I found myself tapping along and mouthing the words to several tracks, even upon first listen, which to me was indicative of a solid album which I'd no doubt enjoy many times over.  Since that first listen it has been the soundtrack to my commute for 2 solid weeks and I am yet to tire of it.  In fact, subsequent plays have only sought to strengthen my adoration for the album.  Personal stand-out tracks are the blistering Contractor, a track which seems to effortlessly set up the perfect circle pit were it played live; Broken Hands, which contains sharp, melodic riffs, plus it is a true showcase of Randy's sheer vocal talent, and finally the album closer Reclamation, a seven-minute journey which sees the tempo shift a few times, bookended by haunting acoustic guitars and the sound of waves crashing on some desolate shore, true to the track's subject matter pertaining to our self-destruction and that of the planet.

They're a happy bunch of lads, really. (Source)

I can honestly say that this album will nestle quite comfortably in my classics collection, rubbing shoulders with the bands I fell in love with back when I was a greasy drunken teenage mess, when going to live shows and expressing myself in the most energetic and ridiculous manner I knew possible was an average weekend.  Typically, I'd choose this point in time to decide that I'd like to see Lamb of God live, only to find out they have gone on hiatus, probably until I ebb back out of my heavy metal phase.  I remain the optimist, as I am sure it won't be long until both I and the band return to the fray once more to create a beautiful mess out of a heaving mass.

Finally, here's a fan-made video for Reclamation, it is pretty awesome.

 - Sam