Power-trio Conan are heavy and distinct enough to have created their very own genre: ‘Caveman Battle Doom’. After conquering their way across Europe and Austrailia in support of their latest release, Blood Eagle, they returned home triumphant to sonically smash some heads.
First up, Brighton/London based hardcore sludge mob TORPOR. Their fantastic choice of band name doesn’t match the physicality of their live set. They flit between brooding, atmospheric guitar passages and blistering, abrasive walls of glorious noise. Nats Spada is predatory and imposing, prowling the stage and the front rows of the crowd while belting out caustic shrieks. They end to roars of approval and Simon Mason thrusting his drum stool to the heavens in victory. Ones to watch.
GHOLD are a power duo composed of a set of drums and a bass. Paul Antony and Aleks Wilson both take on vocal duties, screaming as if with one raw, demonic voice. The bass tone is utterly filthy, felt more than heard in some instances. The lack guitar in their sound is barely noticeable; bass chords and drum fills round out the sonic landscape enough so that you don’t feel a lack. Despite some slightly scrappy bits and a drum kit that at one point looked on the verge of collapse, the tempo variations and stop/start dynamics are pretty gripping.
11 Paranoias are slightly more traditionally doom minded than the preceding acts. Their long, drawn out grooves benefit from Nathan Perrier’s fluid drumming and are given a unique edge by Mike Vests guitar work; they often delve into spacey, dark psych vibes, especially in the guitar solos and reverb drenched sound. Their big, spacious chord progressions are well executed, but unfortunately come across as slightly repetitive and a tad lacking in terms of engagement.
The crowd’s anticipation for Conan makes it seem like they can’t hit the stage soon enough. Immediately throwing down a colossal and lumbering ‘Crown Of Talons’, they nail the mood down. They are unquestionably, unbelievably heavy – throbbing, almost sub-sonic tones and lashings of feedback threatening to bring the Underworld down, especially on the utterly bowel churning ‘Foehammer’. Jon Davis belts out some chilling, tortured screams and Chris Fielding compliments with some booming and guttural growls, and the vocal attack is augmented with a brief appearance by Craig Bryant of Bast. Newest addition Rich Lewis is a monster behind the kit, hammering out pulverising beats before slowing things down with dexterous cymbal work.
Conan’s head crushing, ritualistic take on doom is like the soundtrack to every bad experience from your life flashing before your eyes as the sword comes down to end it all. And it’s bloody brilliant.
