Saturday, 12 March 2011

Glamour Of The Kill, Norwich Arts Centre

Surely part of the point of the Owl is to open our minds to new experiences, broaden our horizons and better acquaint ourselves with musical sub-genres not often found within the pages of NME or whatever The Mirror's pop music supplement is calling itself these days.  And we here in the Norwich wing of VO like to do things a little differently to the rest of the world (insert your own joke about siblings here). So it is that a clutch of us are heading to the Arts Centre to check out York's premier exponents of what my newspaper calls "anthemic metal", Glamour Of The Kill.  And,'s not pretty.
It must be said that this is not a world in which I feel comfortable.  Metal for me extends only about as far as AC/DC, and some metallers would probably do unspeakable things to my cat if I stood up amongst them and tried to place Australia's finest export in the same boat as the rubbish I am obliged to endure this evening.  The thing about AC/DC though is that, even though they do really only have one song, at least that song has a tune, and one you can whistle.  Every single time.  GOTK are so far removed from any concept of the tune it's laughable and, while they may argue that that's not really the point, well, to me, it is.  And while there must have been people living in LA in the mid-eighties who were reluctantly dragged along to a show by some new band called Guns N Roses only to have their heads pinned to the wall by the opening bars of "Welcome To The Jungle", there was never any threat of that happening here. 
So with so little happening on stage, the sparsely-populated crowd command all the attention, and quite a show they provide too.  They are bonkers, at one point lining up on separate sides of the floor before throwing themselves headlong into each other like some crazed Robot Wars-inspired line dance.  And the best thing?  If one of them goes to ground amidst the mayhem, the rest of the "throng" cease kicking the shit out of each other to help their fellow reveller to his feet.  It's strangely touching...
And so much more fun than the lumpen dirge being served up by our headliners.  So yes, my horizons have been suitably broadened.  Now can we have some more indie please?

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