“Fourteen years ago we released an album,” singer Maynard James Keenan told a packed Brixton Academy last night. “It was a political hot potato.”
Briefly excusing this dark aside regards his Irish ancestry, he ploughed on:
“It's our job as artists to observe, interpret and report. We're merchants of emotion. We need to spread love like chlamydia, as often as we can."
As luck would have it, they’re insanely good at that. A Perfect Circle's set was nothing short of breathtaking.
For the devoted fanbase – those lucky enough to have snapped up tickets in the four-minute window they were available – this was a shameless mutual love-in from start to finish.
The set spanned their impressive back-catalogue, punctuated with standout covers – notably an assured take on AC/DC’s rambunctious ‘Dog Eat Dog’, a worthy tribute to friends and heroes sadly lost recently.
Upon a beautifully ordained stage, crafted to induce a sense of escape into A Perfect Circle's artistic world – lasers, projections, podiums, the works – the band opened with the title track from new LP Eat The Elephant. A gentle, piano-led intro veered sharply into rockier terrain when guitarist Billy Howerdell – who rocked up later than everyone, bar the bassist – tore into his lead guitar. Lyrically, the song addressed the elephant in the room: why can’t APC have come back sooner? Singer Maynard Keenan's words: "This massive endeavour / Ominous and daunting / Crippling undertaking" could well reference the difficulty in getting the band together. Luckily there’s a happy ending: "Take the stab / Take The swing."
They didn’t let up one bit from here on in. When bassist Matt McJunkins, who also tours with Eagles of Death Metal, arrived on stage for the transition into second number ‘Disillusioned’ things ramped up regally. There was an outstanding moment towards the end, where everything cut out for a split second, then roared back ten-fold for the outro where Keenan powered into a full-throated ‘Dopamine’ chant.
The theatrical impact of 'Disillusioned' was heightened by the band’s decision to ban phones. The crowd weren’t just hearing them sing about the West’s neurotic relationship with social media and technology, alluding to the beauty that could be had reconnecting sincerely with nature – they were actively partaking in the cut-off that APC think society so dearly needs.
Subsequent cut 'The Hollow' – the biggest single from their album Mer De Noms, and a fine gateway track for people new to APC – went down a storm. Its brooding, dark feel was underlined by a flame motif on giant screens positioned around three rows of spotlights, looming at the back of the stage like malevolent standing stones.
For the first part of the set Keenan kept his powder dry; a menacing yet stoic presence, never yielding, never flinching. That is, up until 'So Long, and Thanks For All The Fish', whereupon he began swinging his towel around and loosened up, bathed in Armageddon-teasing radioactive green lamplight. The track – hinting at what was to come later with his special dedication to those lost this year – felt particularly special as an ode to those lost in 2016. The invocation of Bowie carried profound heft in the Thin White Duke’s old neck of the woods.
Throughout the set Howerdell, all drainpipe jeans t-shirt and shiny pate, would hoover up most of the fan cheers for his heavy metal shredding. He was visually manifesting the hectic energy in the music, all night, brilliantly. But the most audible praise from the crowd didn’t always reflect the guitarist at his most spellbinding. He was out of this world laying down nebulous shoegaze-y swells of sound in tandem with the second guitarist. The pair were especially adroit on the Brinsley Schwarz cover ‘(What's So Funny 'bout) Peace, Love and Understanding’, which Howerdell takes lead vocal on. This got his vocal chords warmed up for the next cut, ‘Blue’, where Howerdell really shone, harmonising exquisitely with Maynard.
The true peak of the night happened after the band cottoned on that everything was going well on stage, so took a moment to reflect. Keenan delivered his knockout chlamydia line, before swerving into a cover of John Lennon's ‘Imagine'. The frenetic lightshow was reigned in, and each bandmember’s podium was illuminated to create an illusion of pretty petals blossoming; each musician their own stem.
This led to the two best performances of new tracks all night. Firstly, 'The Contrarian' and 'Talk Talk'. 'The Contrarian' was accented by a deep red hue onscreen, emphasising the depths of despair and anguish endured by Keenan at the time of writing. It was emotive to the point that if you were with me, there and then, I'd have to tell you there was something in my eye. Staggering stuff. 'Talk Talk's' instrumentals built perfectly to the best bit, where Keenan screams: "Get the fuck out of my waaaaaay!”, an incredible, cathartic sunburst of energy.
'The Doomed' was a massive highlight, built around Howerdell’s shred-metal nod to his guitar hero Randy Rhoads from Ozzy Osbourne's band. And it packs a punch lyrically. Arguably articulating Keenan’s take on Thatercherite individualism, the song is rich in harrowing imagery about vulnerable people in the world and the lack of community and support. For that to be the background, and for him then to go: “The new beatitude: Good luck, you're on your own’” when all the music cuts out, sharply underscores the kind of lovely bloke he is.
Anyway, metalheads rejoiced when 'Counting Bodies....' was played – it's a proper, no-nonsense clanking industrial racket, echoing the ferocity of war to immaculate effect. After 'The Outsider', Keenan made his second longest speech of the night to introduce the finale.
He said they'd play one more of their own before doing a song written by Malcolm Young, to pay tribute to all those who died recently and mentioned Anthony Bourdain and Chris Cornell. The band exited with their cover of 'Dog Eat Dog', and the “merchants of emotion" left our hearts pounding a relentless drumbeat.
In a touching epilogue, Howerdell – Keenan had left the stage by this point – sank to his knees and gratefully bowed in worship to the fans he so adores. The love was truly mutual; anyone there tonight would testify. And as far as I’m concerned, APC can do no wrong as one of the most technically impressive, endlessly inspiring and creatively fertile bands of their generation.
