 
Tonight in Clwb Ifor Bach there are barnets to
suit most every genre or clique: from skin heads
to heads full of untamed locks and indie-surf
boy mops to ZZ Top bearded chins. And all are
here to rock out with some of the most mentally
unstable dudes in modern rock, Black Spiders.
With glittering support from Slaves To Gravity
and The Kix, not one strand of hair – or
lack thereof – will be disappointed.
Girls who play guitars, The Kix, commenced proceedings
with outbursts of Fratellis-esque bridges and
emo angst tunes amongst pop punk licks to the
starter crowd. Versatile and not at all under-talented,
although seeming slightly timid under the spotlights
made them border on just noise at times, the girls
brought on their rock edged indie vibes with a
sampler of original material and covers of clichés
such as Jet’s Are You Gonna Be My Girl and
ACDC’s Whole Lotta Rosie.
Clad head to toe in black threads, with matching
guy-liner of course; it wasn’t just the
rock musos who were catered for. Subtly layering
style credentials underneath modern rock melodies,
Slaves To Gravity tick all the right boxes for
rockers and fashionistas alike.
Slamming in with a face melting start was merely
a sign of things to come for the meagre mob who
stood before them. Working harder than a Duracell
Bunny but to much less avail, Tommy Gleeson and
his slaves poured blood, sweat and tears into
every second and not getting much in return didn’t
appear to dampen STG’s spirits. If anything,
it only encouraged them to play harder; even though
after a week of touring and Jager fun, energy
levels are sure to be waning.
Energetic rock. Drumming to dance to. Riffs to
make you swoon as if Jude Law just walked passed
amalgamated for hip swinging, shape shifting club
banger. Good Advice slid in as the climactic intro
was a mere taste of things to come. That is, face-melting,
lung bashing fun complete with manic screaming.
What stands before us is a band with gumption;
Gleeson has enough flare to give Brandon Flowers
a run for his money while Jase Bowld could possibly
be The happiest drummers. The man spent the complete
set beaming from ear to ear. It’s hard to
fathom why, when great tunes like Dumb and Mr
Regulator, stacked with gritty riffs and smokey
vocals, the ever growing audience could not be
stirred past a mediocre head bob from the back
of the venue. Not even Toshi Ogawa’s acrobatics
nor Gleeson’s mixture of startled man on
the edge expressions and hip shaking could stir
the eclectic group.
Until Black Spiders. As their haunting intro of
castanet Wild West fitting licks, sidled across
and tickled our ears, the boys and girls begin
to file forward in anticipation of what’s
about to befall them. Filling the front row and
beyond are t shirts brandishing logos of Kiss,
ACDC, GNR, Bad Religion and Airborne.
Then the headbanging commenced. I believe it is
completely safe to say that 100% of Black Spiders
look like they have just escaped a mental asylum;
namely the drummer, whose manical expression is
sufficient to give Freddie Kruger a month of sleepless
nights. So unhinged do they appear that I am almost
positive at least one was a librarian in a former
life.
Covered in floral shirts and star tattoos will
attempt to lull you into a false sense of security.
Do not be fooled. The psychotic Black Spiders
will not melt your face. They will hack it up
into little pieces and feed it to your pet dog
as they command you to ‘Stay Down’
before launching into a deliciously aggressive
reprise of ‘Fuck you Black Spiders’
with the front line and beyond. Spoiling us with
tracks Woman and Man’s Ruin and each song
dripping in Black Sabbath tones and big rock riffs
made for something more than entertaining. I think
it was the constant fear of a mass homicide breaking
out.
‘What good is a rock without a roll?’
Not much. But the way Black Spiders’ guitarist
can switch from physically abusing their axes
to stroking them oh so tenderly as if they are
embracing a loved one is surely the bigger question
to ask. Some would say it’s bipolar. Whatever
the diagnosis, perhaps a session with a trained
professional wouldn’t hurt in getting shot
of the Daisy Duke-dreams in which ‘Kiss
Tried To Kill Me’. Echoes and wah wahs used
to the max with hauntingly good, psychedelic intro
to ‘Kiss’.
One particular crowd member, with a definite Z
Boys vibe about hime, rocked out with his Rapunzel
esque doo whipping and lashing and hands that
never stopped clapping for the whole set. And
it didn’t go unnoticed with 3D antics and
a special dedication: ‘This is to you. This
song is called Man’s Ruin.’
Black Spiders – 4.5/5
Slaves To Gravity - 4.5/5
The Kix - 2.5/5
Review By Jessica Acreman
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