The Explosion

*Gallows *are fast becoming a phenomenon. Having trundled around the hardcore underground circuit for the past couple of years, picking up fans along the way with their fear-inducing sets, many more have taken notice of late because of their astounding debut album, Orchestra Of Wolves. Their newfound reputation has seen them acquire support slots at short notice with Papa Roach and Lifetime recently, and tonight with The Explosion.

Tonight is a regular night on stage for the Watford quintet. With wiry, tattooed vocalist Frank Carter tearing a muscle in his shoulder during the first song and then getting hit over the head by Laurent’s guitar halfway through the set, Gallows' wonderfully chaotic car-crash of a live show is led from the front. Carter seethes and screams a fury that cannot be tempered, which proves to be as captivating as it is disconcerting.

The rock ‘n’ roll guitars that fly through wonderful, sing-along tracks like _‘In The Belly Of A Shark’ _are played behind heads like only the great showboating guitarists can, while the bass provides low down, balls-to-the-floor rumbling rock action. It all keeps the crowd moving and, for The Metro Club, a cavernous moshpit opens up in front of the band – one that their wild-eyed frontman descends into the midst of several times.

The boundaries between stage and crowd are blurred tonight, with the diehards cropping up on stage and on the microphones maybe a few times too many. But it’s not like anyone’s going to try and stop them proclaiming their love for this band.

Despite the onstage presence and bluster, there is a humility about this band that exists in stark contrast to their instantly memorable songs and impressively imaginative lyrics. Frank Carter suggests that his band is going down less like a “sack of shit and more like a carrier bag of shit this time”. I’d say that they’re going down a great deal better than that.

Photo courtesy of Ready Steady Jedi