Coheed and Cambria

Coheed & Cambria should be an emo band. Indeed, prior to this show I was led to believe exactly that. With this show coming at the end of a tour with the kings/queens (depending on your opinion I guess) of heart-broken hysterics, Thursday, and with Further Seems Forever playing second-fiddle tonight, everything's in place for a night of grown men whining about lost loved-ones to a bunch of backpack-clad kids who'd give anything for a group hug. Only thing is, the emo never arrives.

That's thanks partially to my late arrival. Upon entering the venue, it's immediately obvious that a handful of folk are actually on their way out, having come only to see tiresome emo God-botherers Further Seems Forever. Well, their loss is all I can say, as Coheed proceed to belt out ten songs of epic intensity that would make Cave In think twice about ever plugging themselves into an amp again. The themes are essentially emo - girls, guys, the aftermath - but the way they're delivered is mesmirising. Bouffant-rocking vocalist Claudio Sanchez’s on-record vocals may smack of Aled Jones, but live his bellows are something else entirely, elevating the set from pretty damn good to downright remarkable.

‘The Crowing’ is a perfect example of muscular musical prowess combined with a killer sense of melody and passionate, albeit sky-high, vocals. It is, however, limp in comparison to the might of ‘Al The Killer’, which resonates viciously around the packed room, echoing At The Drive-In’s ‘Rolodex Propaganda’ and rattling the rims of my specs as it goes. Last time said specs were here they were squashed by marauding moshers. Tonight they survive, just. Unlike Coheed, who don't merely survive, but emerge from this battle utterly victorious (although an ill-advised mid-set jam pushed the limits of patience). In terms of pulling something completely unexpected out of the bag, tonight's set is right up there with Manchester United's (totally undeserved!) last-second Champion's League winner way back when. It's enough to have the hairs on the back of your neck not only standing, but craning around your cheeks to get a look. A year from now, don't be surprised to see Thursday languishing in the shadows, and Coheed wondering what they hell they were doing playing below such an encapsulement of insincerity for so long.