Dying Fetus are the stuff of metal legend. Veterans of the tech-death scene and so beloved that they had a (admittedly slightly tongue in cheek) petition devoted to bringing them to Download Festival. They are a force to be reckoned with. Along with metallic-hardcore mob Malevolence and blackened-thrashers Goatwhore, they set about destroying the Garage. Needless to say, it was brutal.
Sheffield’s Malevolence have a strong following in attendance judging by the volume of merch donned by those in the crowd. The five-piece take to the stage and a massive hole immediately opens up on the dance floor, a vacuum that is immediately filled by young men who barrel around, swinging their arms and spilling pints over those at the edge indiscriminately. The bands breakdown focused brand of metalcore is chugging and weighty, with the odd sub-Pantera groove thrown in for good measure. The rhythm section are a highlight, Charlie Thorpe slaying it behind the kit admirably, but it’s a shame that for most of the set the guitars are crushed under the weight of the bass heavy mix. Alex Taylor prowls the stage wretching out vocals but seems to exit almost solely to repeat the phrase “get the fuck up London”.
NOLA’s Goatwhore are much, much better. Slick and mechanically precise, they simply kill it. Louis Benjamin Falgoust II is utterly commanding and imposing in equal measure, leering into the crowd whilst playing his mic like a guitar. His rasping highs are caustic, Black metal tinged, his lows guttural and powerful. Their sound mixes traditional metal (as the wealth of spiked wristbands, leather and denim will attest to) with blackened thrash, and their set is a whirlwind of relentless tempo. Zack Simmons has the manic kick drum gallop down to a fine art, and Sammy Duet throws down some squealing solos.
John Gallagher asks the crowd if they are “ready for some brutal shit?”. Despite roared affirmation, nobody’s truly ready for what follows. Dying Fetus will tear the skin off your face and rearrange it into a meat Picasso. Among the machine gun snares and spine-wrenching double bass work of Trey Williams are some deep, almost sub-sonic grooves that make it nigh impossible not to bang your head. Gallagher and Sean Beasley cut into the brutal, burly riffs with some admirable tech flourishes including tapping and some dizzying sweep picking, their hands crossing their fretboards like tazered spiders. They make it look effortless.
The stop/start riffs and shifting structures of ‘In The Trenches’ and ‘Second Skin’ are heavy as fuck, and set highlight ‘From Womb To Waste’ perfectly showcases the duality of their vocal attack – Beasley’s mid range snarl and Gallagher’s beyond guttural pig squeals are both joyously incomprehensible. Throughout the band incite crowd surfing and circle pits, but stop to thank the crowd and seem genuinely humbled to be there, doing their thing, twenty years from when they first started. They are the answer to the question – ‘why NOT Dying Fetus?’
