Music / Reviews
Review: Avatar, SWX
Britsludgers Mastiff bill themselves as “a miserable band from a miserable city” (Kingston upon Hull), but seem cheerful enough to be opening this show. Their first couple of songs sound like generic old-school hardcore – a frenzy of thrashing about and shouting – and are greeted with general indifference by the rapidly swelling crowd.
But who could resist a song entitled Beige Sabbath? Dedicated to “all those stoner bands who worship Black Sabbath but don’t have an original riff in them”, this slows the pace a little and succeeds in getting our attention.
is needed now More than ever
Eventually, they even manage to inspire a modest mosh pit. And if in doubt, try a “Fuck the Tories!” chant. That does the trick.
Being American, Veil of Maya are much more slick and, dare one say it, showbiz, giving it plenty of “I want to see your fists in the air!” and “Make some noise, Bristol!”
They’re one of those metalcore bands who make a sound that’s much bigger than could possibly be produced by the four musicians onstage.
Trouble is that the mix melds the guitar and bass into an indistinct mush that soon becomes repetitive. They’re enjoyable enough in the moment though, and manage to get a huge circle pit going.
Sweden’s Avatar are on a completely different level in terms of musicianship and presentation. It’s been a joy to witness their ascent from that support slot with Halestorm at the Academy to headlining the Anson Rooms and now moving up to a heaving SWX, with just a brief Covid interruption. Those who despair of ever finding a festival headliner to take over from the likes of Kiss when they actually retire rather than pretending they’re about to do so need look no further.
Engaging, cane-wielding frontman Johannes Eckerström has been honing his Next Generation Alice Cooper ringmaster schtick on the club circuit for years and is now a fully-formed rock star, who welcomes Bristol’s “freaks and outcasts”, joking that he has a special affinity with the city because he lost his first hat here.
The driving title track from new album Dance Devil Dance proves a perfect opener, the entire band being in lockstep with their formation headbanging and hair swinging.
SWX is too small to accommodate Avatar’s full production, so Johannes announces that the whole venue is now his stage.
The band feign bafflement when he disappears during Puppet Show, only to reappear on the balcony where he makes a balloon animal, which he drops into the sweaty throng, and performs a trombone solo. Indeed, balloons are quite a feature of this show (as are pyro and streamer cannons). Heavy metal needs more balloons. And trombones.
He returns to the balcony later for a solo performance of Tower. But in the meantime, drummer John Alfredsson has acquired a second kit at the front of the stage for When the Snow Lies Red, which is cruelly dismantled and carried away by gimp-masked prop-wrangling roadies at the end of the song.
There was no reason to expect they’d play much from Avatar Country, since they brought the full production with the throne last time, but then two giant banners unfurl bearing the portrait of the king (not our useless monarch, but dreadlocked guitarist Jonas Jarlsby).
And there he is centre stage, crown in place, picking out the opening to A Statue of the King.
The Dirt I’m Buried In from Dance Devil Dance gets everyone singing along with its huge chorus and Avatar leave us with old favourites Smells Like a Freakshow and Hail the Apocalypse, with a suitably apocalyptic further broadside from the streamer cannon.
Now that’s how to put on a show.
All pix by Mike Evans
Read more: Metal & Prog Picks: February 2023
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