|Venue:||London Camden Underworld|
I’m not a superstitious person but I have to say I felt slightly uncomfortable making arrangements to see a band called Dying Fetus whilst my wife was 9 months pregnant. Was I tempting fate? If I pre-booked the ticket before the baby was born would it all go wrong? Thankfully the fetus in question didn’t die and popped out healthily last Wednesday opening the door (barring cot death) for me to get my latest fix of extreme metal at my venue of choice, The Camden Underworld.
The old adage says you can’t judge a book by its cover. Well I was guilty of such judgement when it came to the band Job For A Cowboy. I simply decided, crap name for a band so they’re probably crap. A healthy slice of humble pie later and I can categorically state they’re NOT crap. The Arizona five-piece put on a pulsating 45 minute support set. Beginning with a fairly standard death metal sound, clicky drums and the like, they seem to evolve as each song passes. There are traces of hardcore, punk, the odd Pantera-style riff and tuneful guitar solos thrown into the mix. One song slows the pace right down as though taking a leaf from fellow Yank metallers Obituary. The band themselves are a blur of energy, Jonny Davy on vocals, slugging red wine straight from the bottle, putting in a fine shift with dirty guttural snarls and whipping up the crowd whilst plugging their new album, Demonocracy. Quality stuff, just a shame about the band name...
“It’s not my fault I’m pregnant and I love drugs. Who cares? Fuck the baby, let it die”. No, not a week old text message from my wife but the introductory sample welcoming Dying Fetus onto the stage as they erupt into From Womb To Waste with a concrete slab of a riff and the mass stage-diving commences. Whereas Job For A Cowboy’s performance was frenetic, the Fetus leave the menace of their music to ignite the crowd, dual vocalists John Gallagher (+ guitar) and Sean Beasley (+ bass) rarely venturing away from their respective microphones. Make no mistake, that’s not a criticism.
There is a hypothetical frequency in science referred to as ‘the brown note’, a tone reputably so low it causes humans to lose control of their bowels. Attempts to prove its existence have so far failed. Until now. Gallagher’s vocals are so deep, so sunken, so demonic that The Underworld is in danger of being flooded in shit each time he opens his mouth. I’m in awe.
For those not familiar with the band, growling duties are shared in every song, Gallagher and Beasley trading vocals just like Slayer’s King and Hanneman trade guitar solos. As for the drums, if I’d had better music lessons at school I might be able to explain in a professional journalistic way just how good, how technical, how fast Trey Williams is, but I didn’t so I can’t. But take my word for it, he’s pretty damn good.
And have I mentioned how heavy Dying Fetus are? Like a fucking aircraft carrier. Highlights of this brutal set include In The Trenches and Your Treachery Will Die With You. They’ve certainly encouraged me to look further into their back catalogue so I can relive such cheery titles as 'Skull Fucked' and closing song for tonight, 'Kill Your Mother, Rape Your Dog'.
On my way out of the venue I pass the merchandise stand. In amongst the black t-shirts smothered in indecipherable band names are several pairs of grey tracksuit bottoms, DYING FETUS written all the way up the leg. Not sure how well they’d go down at my local badminton club so I save my pennies for another day. But as I head off into the London rain I think to myself I have a new fave death metal band.
Posted: Tue 25 September 2012