MUDHONEY, MEAT PUPPETS + METZ
Manchester Academy | June 7th
Crack has been saturating in filth for the last few weeks in preparation for one of the maddest gig line-ups we’ve seen this year. It’s a rare occasion that you’re offered the chance to see two sets of legends – grunge godfathers Mudhoney and Kurt Cobain muses (and occasional collaborators) Meat Puppets – only for the line-up to be topped off by Sub Pop’s noisiest newcomers METZ. Manchester Academy was in for a beast of an evening.
Right from the get-go we were subjected to METZ’s unshakable force. Their most glaring feature was just how incredibly loud everything was – like a primordial club to our soft heads, the band pierced their audience with snare upon snare amidst a background of abominable noise. Singer Alex Edkins was positively neurotic in his relentless screaming and guitar hurling, exacerbated by his drummer’s flailing limbs. The band sounded so out of control that it seemed almost at odds with the paradoxical tightness of the performance, as they ripped through a faithful set that showcased much of their debut album.
Despite METZ’s ferocious efforts, Meat Puppets really took it to the next level. From the opening whistle of The Monkey and the Snake the band’s intricate blend of Southern country and punk was unstoppable. They reeked of flair, free-styling their way through the likes of I’m A Mindless Idiot (at the request of an audience member) and Plateau, scowling band leader Curt Kirkwood offset by the lunacy of his brother Cris’s bass-caressing and squirming. The crowd never stopped dancing to the earthquake of grooves these veterans poured out. A sublime adaption of the Beach Boys’ Sloop John B foregrounded a stupendous jam of Lake of Fire to finish off a performance that may well have displaced the headliners. It really was that special.
For much of the now-bursting crowd, though, there was only one act who could truly own the stage this night, and they were not to be disappointed. Mudhoney’s mammoth 25-song set unveiled much of new album Vanishing Point alongside a rich selection of their plentiful back catalogue – from the mass singalong of I Like It Small to grunge-foregrounding anthem You Got It (Keep It Outta My Face), the band’s energy was as insatiable as that of the crowd. The inevitable moshpit enveloped hordes of topless, sweaty punks with the opening bars of Touch Me I’m Sick. With revellers literally hurling themselves upwards in a seemingly gravity-defying ruckus, Sweet Young Thing Ain’t Sweet No More comes in a flood of despicable grottiness. Mark Arm’s voice sounds as strong as ever, and he looks astounding as he graces the stage with his silver-glittered guitar – this is a band that can still exercise their superiority over a scene they effectively created. A trio of classic hardcore tracks by Fang, The Dicks and Black Flag close Mudhoney’s set with testament to an undeniable truth: these guitars aren’t going away any time soon.
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Words: James Balmont
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