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We Are Scientists point pipped us with the immortal line "The scene is dead but we’re still trying". Yes, the scene is dead but apparently some are still trying. People have been saying it for a-ges. Emo, that uncomfortable buzz word that’s hung itself from the most dramatic tree, the deathly hallow swinging, culled and cumber, intestines springing back on themselves flailing mid air like a slippery serpent, has lost its soul, nothing remains but a cardboard consumerist cut-out used to sell more Bleeding Star tees.
The Taste of Chaos is usually this big deal; a celebration of all things rock! And, rightly so. Last year, everyone’s favourite ‘my girlfriend dumped me and I’m going to write a song about it’ band, Taking Back Sunday, headlined; alongside Saosin and Senses Fail. With the exceptions of Gallows, this year the line up is pretty shit. Let’s start the criticism at whichever numpty branded this a sell out gig; patches of crowd recede like an old man’s hairline and there’s enough space to swing a cat about.
We arrive just before Gallows take to the stage. Unsurprisingly, they aren’t up to their usual high octane antics. The poor loves have been on tour for what has got to be the last year – solid - and did the full leg of Warped Tour. They are obviously burnt out (come on! Let ‘em do what Rock stars do best when not working- sit in four day old pants and wank to their hearts’ content!). Despite Gallows’ commercial success, they are actually better suited to smaller venues; their intimate interaction with their crowds and general on stage shenanigans are that much harder to administer with a larger, and let’s face it, much less friendly crowd. Gallows’ live sets are about seeing and being; it’s a spectacle sure, but one which warrants crowd participation and the break down of barriers; Brixton’s audience/ crowd divide is so strong that any attempts to transgress it, appear futile. They endure their way through many of their best songs, Frank leaps into the crowd during ‘In The Belly Of A Shark’, but it is the only time during the entire gig we see him leave the stage; ‘Come Friendly Bombs’ sees Frank’s little bro join him in stage. It’s not a bad gig, but it’s certainly not their best.
For a band that nobody ever admits to liking, Aiden sure have a lot of fans creeping around the venue in all their kohl eyed, black suited, and depressing glory. Aiden play their way through many songs from their new (ish) album. It’s like My Chemical Romance fans mistakenly ended up at a Fall Out Boy gig, but luckily found Aiden, so it’s all okay again. The harder fans amongst them (you know the ones not crying at the side of the stage) go a bit mental for ‘Teenage Queen’ and ‘One Love’ but they’re the only ones; the rest of us are slowly dying of boredom.
Disturbingly, someone plays a Nickelback song in the interim and it doesn’t sound too far removed from the music pumping from the speakers during Rise Against’s set. Thankfully they play their bestest song, ‘Prayer For The Refugee’; their rifts are lush, executed inadequately, but the sound has been pretty poor throughout, so it’s probably not RA’s fault that they sound far superior on record. Onwards!
Let Kelly Osbourne’s dishevelled, disposed-condom découpage, Bert McCracken, cheer your tarnished soul. He points at his subjects from his hierarchical stage, to dance for him. Yes, like monkeys in a zoo; they’re now performing ‘tricks’. Thankfully those of us less than impressed with The Used’s latest sacrilege can find redemption in the outpourings from 2002’s self-titled. Namely, ‘Taste Of Ink’ and ‘Buried Alive’ but even ‘I Caught Fire’ (from ‘In Love and Death’) features. Unfortunately they continue to play most of the set from their newest effort, so its road hitting time, alongside many TOC veterans - the 10.30 northbound Victoria line is crammed with us. There’s always next year; let’s just hope the scene hasn’t bled to death over your nice white vans by then.
