Temples
Motion, Bristol | 2-4 May
What fresh hell is this?
While the UK festival market is increasingly overladen with the same-old lineups nestled under a different corporate sponsor, there remains a chasm outside the capital for something to cater for those thirsty for something with a little heft; a hulking figure behind a barely opaque fug of bong smoke. Well, that chasm has just been filled with a bone-shattering thud.
Any initial reservations about the venue – not that there’s anything wrong with it, it’s just a slightly awkward fit to drop a couple of thousand vikings into a setting usually reserved for wide-eyed club kids – quickly assuaged once the stunning line-up was announced. In fact, Motion worked extremely well. Logistics were slick and considered, performances split across two rooms of varying sizes, with the remainder of the huge space seemingly devoted to various beer dispensaries. Give the people what they want, right?
Having worked out way through an outside court yard heaving with leather and denim battle jackets, the first band of the weekend to catch our eye were Athens, Georgia husband and wife duo Jucifer. Their menacing sludge metal cacophony sent jaws floorwards, running Canadian doomsters Blood Ceremony very close for the title of set of the day. The latter’s witchy Jethro Tull-meets-Sabbath sound out-progged everyone else on the bill, and singer, keyboardist and flutist Alia O’Brien’s sheer exuberance and confidence kept all eyes fixed firmly in her direction.
Next we were thrown into the thick of the main stage maelstrom to experience Brutal Truth’s final UK show, which came with all the intensity and conviction you’d demand. An hour of unapologetic grindcore power, the face-melting assault was tinged with a real poignancy that such a potent force are going out at the top of their game – but that’s the only way to go. To cap it off, Electric Wizard, despite a few sound issues, brought their brand of psychedelic heaviness out in spades, diving straight into their set with squealing feedback and raining down a welcome barrage of grooves.
The main complaints from day one had been due to a vegetarian catering issue, and to the credit of the organisers, these issues were addressed on the fly, with punters allowed to bring their own packed lunch on Saturday. It’s lucky too, as attempting to digest the dynamic doom of Amenra or an in-your-fucking-face showing from crust punk titans Doom on an empty stomach is a big ask.
Perhaps the most anticipated set of the weekend, post-metal godheads Neurosis brought their game-faces to the top of Saturday’s bill, with many attendees seeing them for the first time since stripping of their signature visual onslaught. This band have made a career of taking massive strides into the future, moving beyond their hardcore roots to deliver some of the most profound, soul-scraping metal ever recorded, so while this is a step back, you can be assured it’s not regressive. Their set began with the sprawling A Sun That Never Sets, followed by a mind-blowing version of Locust Star. The consuming scope of their live sound is wholly transcendental, heading straight for the soul, and the crowd fell under their influence, transfixed by the vibration. A column of volume extended from the stage throughout The Tide and closer Stones From The Sky; a spiritual, revelatory experience from a band in a category of one.
Onto Sunday, where we were quickly indoctrinated back into the swing of things by Finnish band Beastmilk’s deathly new wave punk, which came on equal parts Gary Numan, Turbonegro and AFI, fronted by a gothic Jello Biafra. All this, in case it’s not clear, amounts to a good thing.
Across to the main room, where we witnessed another of the weekend’s many untouchable moments. Led by Jimbob Isaac, veteran leader of Swansea doom legends Taint, the release of HARK’s debut full-length earlier this year confirmed them as one of the most thrilling bands of their ilk – that ilk is groove-laden stoner metal; dynamic, depthy, memorable, remarkable. They dominated the main stage, swooping through progressive-without-being-prog, technically-flawless-without-being-technical anthems with effortless intensity. When they were joined by their mate Neil Fallon, vocalist with tonight’s headliners Clutch, for recent collaboration Clear Light Of …, it was almost unbearably triumphant. They left the stage at 6pm, and we were left knowing the day couldn’t get any better.
That’s not to say it got any worse. Dragged Into Sunlight erected a candelabra at stage front and proceeded to devastate; hooded and shrouded in smoke, searing white lights pounding in time with brutal double-kick blastbeats and guitars bleeding raw. We then returned to the Main Stage, where death ‘n’ rollers, Doomriders took us through a fast-paced set that demonstrates their knack for somehow combining dark, detuned riffs with something akin to 70s classic rock.
Then came the climactic showing from the aforementioned Earth Rockin’, Elephant Ridin’, Beard Burnin’ boys from Maryland: Clutch. And from the opening whoomp of The Mob Goes Wild through to the closing clenched fist of Electric Worry/One Eyed Dollar, they didn’t miss a mark.
Certain tracks stood out – the audacious title track from recent full-length Earth Rocker, the gargling, soaring The Regulator – but it was all such an unadulterated pleasure, it seems trite to pick out individual moments. The crowd were a beer-and-sweat-sodden vision of elation.
An hour later, with the masses dispersed, Bristol shaman of all things heavy and the man responsible for Temples, Francis Mace, will have surveyed the wasteland with the intense satisfaction of a job incredibly well done. This one’s in it for the long haul.
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Words: Phillip James Allen, Jack Bolter, Rich Bitt
Photography; Ross Silcocks
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