Die So Fluid - Camden MonarchReviewed by Clapperpaw on 10/02/2004
I stand in front of three points onstage from which a wall of sound is constructed and emitted, built from the driving raw blaze of punk, a sound distilled to severe percussive poundings and beautifully brash vocals that peel back a layer of your skin with each note. If the punk bearings are the core of this outfit then the outer shell is even more impenetrably unflawed and fierce. Wraithlike but not waiflike, Die So Fluid is cemented with chemical allure. An addictive metallic taste that bubbles, broods and boils to the surface in heavy ebullitions with no restraint or lack of conviction. Grog’s vocals are the poison kissed on your lips with a deep sinking blow to the strings of her bass, to the towering, piercing screams, spitting razors from her throat with a voice that shatters with no bounds. Visually striking, tattoos and piercings aside she can fool you into thinking that she’s still the same old pussycat but as the few years passed away, the scratching post has been left annihilated and pissed up against. Striking I say,unquestioningly, but with what matters more, she is a lady blessed with vocal skills that are the strike of a match when your bowels are soaked in lighter fluid.
On backing vocals and drums, Al proves exactly why he’s played part to a Grammy award-winning record. From speedy thrashings to a slower turbulent pace, he is a strong, skilled musician, whose drumming parallels the vocal gymnastics and stormy guitars that collectively deviate from charging knives-out anthems to twisting spirals of sound. All of which exposes an understanding to some of their own influences such as Tool and Deftones. Sitting behind his drum kit furthest from the front of the stage he is the chambered organ that pumps and beats the blood in circuit and provides awesome harmonies as the enigmatic mohawked motherfucker Drew captivates the crowd, riling them into an astounded frenzy with the a highly appreciated guitar solo here and there. Dexterous Drew is the third element to a band tonight that has been out-of-sight for the past year. However all equally crucial, they have never sounded so tight and together before than they do tonight at the Camden Monarch.
It has been a year in which they have evidently evolved, now heavier and loaded with a barrel of new material from their forthcoming debut album ‘Spawn Of Dysfunction’. Intense songs filled with bitterness and empowerment, emotionally cathartic and punishing without squeezing the focus out from their delivery of ripping riffs and head-banging beats; leaving you standing before a trigger that shoots bullets to your brain. All three single releases get their chance to shine, snarl and seduce the audience tonight from the sheer naked brutality of ‘Operation Hypocrite’ and melodic onslaught of ‘Disconnected’ to the sultry spine-tingling climax and top crowd pleaser ‘Suck Me Dry’. Back in 2002 we may have been treated to all three singles as well as b-sides ‘Will Is Dead’, ‘Beyond Help’ and the “show me how you love to hate” horns in the air anthem ‘Smear Campaign’ but with the new direction of the band, stand-out tracks such as ‘Circus of Sin’ and ‘Kiss The Floor’ leave them for dead. ‘Spawn…’ has never sounded so good and just about finished everybody’s necks off to the point that we could all rotate them a full 360 degrees, exorcist stylee. Without a doubt, the band’s first London gig in…far too long, was warmly received and had the same effect on the fans as it would be like if Hugh Hefner had just seen Jordan after being denied the company of boobies for a year…
So I’ll end, myself, with a quote: “Death borders upon our birth, and our cradle stands in the grave. Our birth is nothing but our death begun”.
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