Review: Epica, O2 Academy

Imagine being an expectorating late ’70s punk rocker who somehow gains access to a Tom Baker-era TARDIS and nips forward in time to see how that Year Zero policy of prescriptive musical incompetence has panned out. Once you’d got over the shock of finding that the cred-fixated NME is now a woeful pallid freesheet promoting manufactured American pop stars, you’d presumably be aghast to observe ‘the kids’ (and more than a few adults) flocking to bands who make ELP seem like The Ramones. Yep, it’s unofficial Symphonic Metal Month in Bristol. This third and biggest gig of the series kicks off aptly named Dutch outfit Epica’s UK tour and marks their first incursion into the West Country.

But first: “Are you guys ready to do some Swiss yodelling?” It can only be Swiss folk-metallers Eluveitie and hurdy-gurdy player/vocalist Anna Murphy introducing the Swiss-German version of Call of the Mountains. Hey, it makes a change from the Gaulish in which many of their lyrics are written. Eluveitie were six months into their Origins trek when they headlined the Bierkeller this time last year and are still on the same tour, having recently wended their way through India and South Africa. That means the set is pretty familiar, but there have been a few changes along the way. Violinist Nicole Ansperger has been replaced by Shir-Ran Yinon for undisclosed family reasons and, perhaps in acknowledgement of the fact that they’re on a bill with the formidable Simone Simons, Murphy now gets more of a spotlight, performing a scintillating solo vocal on Scorched Earth from Helvetios, with flute accompaniment by mainman multi-instrumentalist Chrigel Glanzmann – he of the arse-length dreadlocks and the only musician capable of inciting a circle pit while wielding a wind instrument (Ian Anderson never tried this).

Eluveitie really ought to be headlining venues this size by now, and as far as the Academy’s packed and wildly enthusiastic audience are concerned they already are. But while it’s great to see them on a larger stage – there are eight of the buggers, after all – there are constraints to being a support band. Chiefly, the sound balance, which is always a struggle to get right with a mix of acoustic instruments and death metal, takes some time to get sorted. So while traditional opener King should have been a crisp, shouty and fiddletastic frenzy, it comes across as rather muddy. By the end of their set, however, they’ve won an encore and a huge crowd singalong of Inis Mona.

While some symphonic metal bands do little more than pay lip service to their classical influences, Epica takes theirs very seriously indeed. Hell, Simone Simons is a trained mezzo-soprano and the band once performed music by the likes of Verdi, Grieg and Dvorak at Hungary’s Miskolc Opera Festival, backed by a full orchestra and 30-piece choir. There are no such expensive extravagances tonight, with much of the unashamed orchestral bombast restricted to backing tapes or performed by grandstanding Coen Janssen, who enjoys whizzing round his Jordan Rudess-style revolving keyboard and gallivanting about the stage sporting the world’s most preposterous musical instrument, which resembles a strap-on keytar as designed by Salvador Dali. At one point, he even pauses to take a selfie with a fan.

In addition to the often fabulously overblown orchestrations, Epica’s music hinges on the dynamic between Simons’ clear and pure singing style and that of ‘grunt vocalist’ and band founder Mark Jansen. This is now a common enough feature of symphonic metal, but Epica use it spectacularly, notably on the operatic Cry for the Moon. In a career-spanning set, they take us all the way back to 2003’s The Phantom Agony, while serving up a good half of current album The Quantum Enigma, all presented to impressive dramatic effect on a minimally dressed stage with a state-of-the-art lightshow. But while the music might be grand and the lyrical concepts heavy-duty, from quantum physics to the dangers of organised religion, there’s absolutely nothing po-faced about the delivery. Clearly enjoying herself, Simons even leads the band in a gloriously undignified display of disco dancing through set closer Design Your Universe.

The encore includes an absolutely barnstorming Unchain Utopia before they give vent to their death metal roots with a ferocious Consign to Oblivion, including a politely incited (“Kick some ass, but don’t break anything!”) wall of death. Yes, kids: excess can be fun too.