Witchsorrow play to a sparse crowd, but still manage to kick up a storm. Nick Ruskell churns out barbaric slabs of distortion while bassist Emily and drummer David make a perfect partnership in more ways than one. Rivalling Jus Oborn and Liz Buckingham’s partnership in manner in which they communicate so exquisitely with each other.
This powerful compact performance is more than Shazzula can muster. Solo member atmospheric drone doom projects can prove tricky to translate in the live arena and while the accompanying feature film on the back screen helps provide the nocturnal 70s horror ambience this lady is looking for one the organ subsides it is clear that fiddling with an effects unit fails to conjure up hideously introspective feelings of foreboding. In more intimate surrounding this may prove more effective but for now this is a languid trip that few are buying into.
Satan’s Satyrs fully embrace their occult metal heritage featuring vocals very reminiscent of Ozzy Osbourne. ‘Show Me Your Skull’ has some ballsy riffs but other than that there are not a great deal of hooks to draw you in.
Eerie sound of thunder and the garish projections fill the stage as ‘Witchcult Today’ announces the arrival of Dorset’s Electric Wizard. The second departure of sticksman Tim Bagshaw and subsequent reintroduction of Simon Poole sees a tighter more efficient outfit which should hope to dispel recent memories of sloppy performances.
For the most part the set flows like molten lava; relentless and constant. Material from new opus Time To Die (Spinefarm) is consistent with the band’s early work, mining the depths of paranoia and subterfuge to compelling effect. Enveloped by a cloak of Hammer Horror psychedelia Wizard are at times mesmerising yet the cavernous venue doesn’t seem prepared for the bombastic showing with tonight’s set being quieter than some of their recent outings.
While the wheels don’t come off tonight, we don’t escape a snafu in the sound department when Jus Oborn’s amp blows up during ‘Funeralopolis’. Luckily Nick Ruskell is on hand to supply his equipment, but Oborn looks pissed off at this slight interruption. Soon enough the black tar riffage cut through the PA allowing the show to be brought to a cathartic climax. Not the triumph the band would have hoped for but in places Wizard showed capable of transfixing an audience who shall surely be ushered into their loyal Supercoven.
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WORDS: ROSS BAKER
PHOTOS: LUKE DENHAM PHOTOGRAPHY