Review: Kadavar, Marble Factory

Venice Beach, California, 1965. Jim Morrison and Ray Manzarek meet in the golden glow of an Oliver Stone movie and go on to soundtrack the ’60s for the Beautiful People. But what about the people who weren’t beautiful and didn’t get invited to the big sixties hippy free love party – the blue collar kids, who gorged on cheap speed rather than brown acid and found their prospects distinctly ungroovy? In the post-Manson/Altamont comedown, they forged a darker, riff-heavy sound that was to become heavy metal.

Venice Beach, California, 2015. Fifty years on, their children (or, possibly, grandchildren) are keeping this great tradition alive in the form of The Shrine. A trio of greasy longhair skater dudes who trade in self-styled ‘psychedelic violence rock’n’roll’, they’re not above appropriating the Sabbath Bloody Sabbath riff and there’s more than a soupcon of Motorhead in their heavy, high-energy garage-rock sound. Frontman Josh Landau prefaces every song with an explanation of the lyrics. For each one that celebrates “the power of rock’n’roll” there’s another inspired by “staring out your window at 4.30am waiting for the garbage truck to come and take the rest of your shitty life away.” I believe that’s what our hippity-hoppity friends mean when they talk about “keepin’ it real”.

Probably the only band ever to use Lee Hazlewood’s 1969 country obscurity The Night as their intro tape, Berlin beardies Kadavar are working hard to build an audience the old-fashioned way. Tonight, however, they’re the underground choice in the competition for Bristol’s rock pound, finding themselves up against Skindred at the Academy and Pat McManus over at The Tunnels. They don’t help matters by saddling themselves with a misleading band name for a trio who trade in stoner proto-metal with a dash of psych (but not enough to attract the wrong sort of beardie, if you get my drift).

Naturally, they’re a magnet for that lazy ‘retro rock’ label, but take a look under the bonnet and you’ll find they’re creating something fresh and exciting from a well-worn template. The Last Living Dinosaur boasts a huge loping riff, The Old Man leads off with a bona fide earworm of a guitar figure, and Living in Your Head is an epic psychedelic hard rock wig-out that sees guitarist Christoph Lindemann throwing his head back, beard a-quiver, as he drives it along with a series of electrifying solos. They also employ an unusual stage configuration, with tirelessly flailing Animal from The Muppets/Keith Moon-style drummer Christoph Bartelt the centre-front focal point, displacing bassist Simon Bouteloup almost into the wings. Simon and Garfunkel-quoting, crowd-pleasing encore Come Back Life is delivered with sufficient energy to remind us that there’s plenty of animating spirit in this Kadavar, whose music and facial hair will endure long after Movember is done and (cock)dusted.