Gojira

When the only band to have come out France with the express intention of making our ears explode and an ulterior motive related to the preservation of the world’s ecology play a gig in London, I’m always the first one to throw my name into the hat.

Having been literally stunned by *Gojira *at The Great Escape Festival earlier this year and then almost decapitated by an even better performance the following month at Download Festival, I had a reasonable idea of what to expect: bowel-twistingly loud death metal with artillery guitar and a bass sound so heavy they wrote a bloody song about it.

It just doesn’t make any sense to turn huge, crashing slabs of heavy metal goodness into dainty, floating feathers. It doesn’t matter how heavy it is if the volume is turned down so low you can have a telephone conversation and not have to shout unless you’re right down the front among the considerably heaving moshpit, one which manages to spit out a healthy offering of enthusiastic but troublesome crowdsurferers.

Despite the sweaty efforts of the flailing punters as they cascade towards, over and through the Frenchmen’s equipment, burly, massive-haired singer Joseph Duplantier is unfazed. His mic' stand is re-erected and he proceeds to growl and roar his way through almost an hour of tracks from their two records.

The key to Gojira’s brilliance, however, is the abundance of massive hooks, lines and sinkers. This band is not all about brute force. Sure, the guitars on every single track sound like a different kind of machine gun aimed directly at your bonce, but it’s the fact that they’ve managed to find fifteen different machine guns that keeps you interested. A minute-long drum salvo and a constantly headbanging bassist who appears to have a neck like a rubber chicken’s also go a long way towards entertaining a crowd.

As a result, regardless of volume, this music will get to you. It will run under your skin and through your veins. I promise that this band will live with you forever if you give them a chance.