Winter in Scala with Karnataka

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did attend the concert of Winter in Eden and Karnataka in Scala, London, on Thursday 13 December 2012. The gig was not otherwise well attended, and rather cold. The first band were muddy sounding, with a murky mix, and the singer saying she was recovering from a throat problem. They sounded a bit like Mostly Autumn, but without the guitarist. Though they had a guitarist. The headline band, Karnataka, were quite similar with a better sound mix, though I could not hear the synthesizer well. The singer, in gesture and temperament, seemed rather large for the stage and the rest of the band; though certainly no problem on the eye, particularly in the Christmas dress. Her hair indicated a pleasing pre-Raphaelite; though the music was not particularly Celtic, and the songs were long and developed. The guitarist was quite good, though some of the solos seemed a little pedestrian and would have benefited from greater rhythmic flexibility and a more sensitive axe, like a Stratocaster. Unfortunately, the band finished with a Led Zeppelin cover, which rather showed up the rest of the compositions. In total, it would be a "ho ho hum" from Melachi.

Katacurious

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, did attend the gig of Junius, Alcest and Katatonia at the Academy, Islington, on 10 December 2012. The venue was full for both the support bands, and Junius played a solid, slow and somewhat grungy set that was well received. Alcest played similarly slow and more atmospheric music, with rather long songs, sometimes sounding trancy, like a heavy Enya, with the celtic vibe. The vocals were too low in the mix, felt I. Katatonia seemed better than last time I heard them at Koko (when they kept stopping), and were notably, well, loud. Although I liked their performance, I feel there is something lacking; possibly it is the rather unimaginative rhythm section, or the monotone emotional delivery, the lack of melody, or the way very many of the songs end oddly. Pleasing, yet curious, in the mind of Melachi.

Brand Talanas

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did attend the concert of Talanas and My Dying Bride at the Islington Academy on 7 December, 2012. The Talanas set was well attended, the music sounding a bit like Opeth without the tunes on the way to Augury, the bassist sporting what looked like an 8 string bass, and the singer most personable with a passable Johnny Depp or Russell Brand impersonation. I will certainly be looking for some more stuff from them. My Dying Bride played very slow and rather heavily for a long period, in a rather gloomy vein; the most interesting sections musically were duets with the two guitars. It lacked the blues-based vibe and the riffs you find in say, Black Sabbath or Electric Wizard. The few faster songs, such as the final one, were the most effective, to my mind. They sounded rather like Katatonia, but rather less flexible (who oddly are playing there on Monday). Maybe an acquired taste, then, but without doubt serious doomsters.

IQ Medium to High

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did attend the IQ concert at the O2 Islington, London, in December 2012. For reasons unknown to me, this annual gig seems to attract a certain type of balding, rotund old people, who stand around the bars drinking and talking loudly, and this was no exception. Even listening through this, the vocals seemed a bit rough to the ear, particularly towards the beginning of the evening, though less so than in previous years. We were spared a saxophone. The most effective songs were the more recent ones, such as Ryker Skies and Harvest of Souls, which tended to allow themselves a little more time to develop. Well, nothing much new here, but I will probably go next year as well.

Pentatonic Bar and Project Mayhem, Chiang Mai

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did visit the Pentatonic Bar, Chiang Mai, Thailand, in November 2012. Walking back to my rather dire hotel, I wandered past an open disco bar, and determined to leave this dismal city as soon as possible. Then I heard what sounded like the strains of Iron Man from a nearby shed. Entering, and finding it decorated with vaguely rocky, sprayed murals, I found a dozen patrons, young Thais and few foreigners, and a four-piece band, Project Mayhem. Ordering a beer at about 80B (1.50£), and reclining at the back on an armchair apparently retrieved from a dump, I remained to listen; this band played numerous rock standards, they were really smoking, literally and figuratively, with greatly fluid lead and bass guitarists and fine drummer and singer. Even their cover of Stairway to Heaven was goosebump-inducing. Thinking perhaps the town was not so boring after all, I dropped in a few days later, to see them again playing for friends and some beer. Anyone planning a transcontinental flight to see a band could do much worse than travel to see Project Mayhem at the Pentatonic bar in Chiang Mai.

Zeppelin Cafe, Phnom Penh, Cambodia

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did visit the Zeppelin Cafe, Phnom Penh, on Street 51 by the Walkabout Hotel, Cambodia, in November 2012. It is small and narrow; there were about a  dozen patrons on a weekday night. I sat at the bar and spent the evening opposite a picture of a moody Ozzy, listening to deep cuts from 70s hard rock, many of which I had not previously heard. I drank beer and spirits alternately, in keeping with the vaguely American ambience, managing with some effort to ring up a total bar tab of ten dollars. There were two waitresses, looking about fourteen, though they may have been older; joined at 11pm by a young man looking about ten, though may have been younger. They were efficient but not terribly communicative. Despite the wall of vinyl, the proprietor played entirely from his computer; on enquiry he said that he had copied some of the vinyl to digital, though other tracks played from an original digital source. Well, what can I say? Clearly one of the truest and best bars in the world.

Rock Pub, Bangkok

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did visit the Rock Pub, Bangkok, near Ratchatewi Skytrain station, in November 2012. The venue is of normal pub size, with a stage at the far end, on which a band, Mundee, was playing to about a dozen patrons, mainly Thais with a few westerners. I ordered a bottle of beer from the bar, which was rather expensive for Thailand, at 119B (about £2.40) and listened to a slightly slowed down version of Sweet Child of Mine, which was quite effective, followed by a similar number. After this they stopped. Well, this was rather tame for 2am on Saturday night.

Bass Girl Sings

I returned a Friday, at about midnight, when another cover band, Munsen, were on stage, though with a synthesizer that remained without a keyboardist, and to an even smaller crowd. They played a wide variety of requested covers, specialising in Ozzy Osbourne's solo material, the guitarist coping quite well; the vocalist might be better in the more modern thrashy style, thought me. The rhythm and "bass girl" sometimes sounded a little sluggish, but I often think this about cover bands, and it may be me rather than them. On this showing, I would say this venue is worth visiting, though there may be better things to do in Bangkok at 2am, certainly anyone with visions of headbanging Thai rock chicks (if they exist) will be disappointed. I also have the general impression that rock in Asia stopped in about 1990.

Full Moon Party

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did attend the Full Moon Party at Haad Rin, Koh Phangan, Thailand, in November 2012. That day torrential rain had continued from the previous week, but I resolved that I may as well go, rather doubting I would ever return to Ko Samui, having suffered unending monsoons on the beach, mosquitos in my hut, powercuts in near-deserted nightclubs, and a pickpocketing of my mobile phone by a ladyboy, for some reason strolling the streets at 2am (after spotting it was missing, I returned to find her, lurking in the shadows, and she gave it back).

Slide

I had thought the party a large hippy assemblage, a bit like Glastonbury by the beach, though I myself naturally arrived by speedboat. Passing numerous sellers of buckets of cocktail, I selected one including (in the demonstration display) Jack Daniels and coke. But instead of adding a nice miniature of JD, the gentleman poured an unidentified liquid of similar colour. Since all cocktails taste much the same (except, of course, margarita and frozen martini), I did not complain.

The moon did actually look quite nice, as did the lights across the sea, and the beach had maybe a dozen sound systems playing dance music, and buffed or beautiful backpackers jollying up and down, in a luminescent ink. No hippy was to be seen, and the music varied from a fairly trancy pop to the full-out house. I am not a great specialist in this genre, but I had the impression that the sets were not particularly good, and I am puzzled how it was possible to dance for eight hours to it.

There was a bit of fire-walking, and some people did become drunk, though fewer than you might see in Leicester Square any night of the week.

At the far end of the beach I found a pleasing cabin, I think called the Elephant bar, where one could sit on cushions and drink peacefully, though suffering from drum and bass, possibly the least interesting music known to man, all suffused by the damp and a sweet smoke. After a further stroll across the bay, where I was frisked by another ladyboy, who was this time frustrated by my experience, I settled in a reggae beach bar, which served as a fine refuge for the torrential rain at 4am, when I wrapped myself in gagoul, waiting to return for the speedboat back at 6.

Back on Chaweng Beach, Ko Samui

This involved an hour or two's queue, in which fisticuffs between factions of impatient backpackers was narrowly averted, followed by about half an hour's wait at the other end on a leaking bus with a driver who was waiting for some drugs to take effect so she could sober up. But finally I did arrive safely home to my hut on another damp beach; and it is indeed not likely that I, Melachi, will return to Ko Phangan.

Heart of Darkness, Phnom Penh

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did visit the notorious Heart of Darkness Club in Phnom Penh, in November 2012, after midnight, after a session, and on my own. Of unsound mind indeed, then, but the security did not bother to frisk me. The beer was $2 per draft. The club is nicely decorated in a gothic-Cambodian style, there is a smallish dancefloor downstairs, with a serious sound system, and a pool table upstairs. I am not very familiar with dance music, but I think it was some euro-trash. The guests were mainly trashy young Cambodian men and some international gap-year-trash. Unlike myself, of course. There were a dozen Cambodian or Vietnamese women hanging around by the bar, somewhat professional though not very persistent, lacking the easy charm of their Thai counterparts. Although the barman was a bit gruff, the security were quite chatty. The club seemed perfectly clean and safe to me, indeed I went back on a Saturday and found much the same crowd but more of them. A pleasant addition to any evening in the Penh, says Melachi.

Yet Still the Cranes Fly

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did watch "The Cranes are Flying" (1957), a Soviet war film by Mikhail Kalatozov, in October 2012. It tells the story of a girl whose fiancé goes to war, and simply and directly, unencumbered by side-plots. The cinematography is first rate, though highly stylized; most shots could be framed as stills and displayed. The acting is hammy, to modern tastes -- whichever emotion is required from the script is presented, in the style of a Russian icon, more like an opera or comic. The few battle episodes are poor, and several scenes too melodramatic; surely old fashioned, even in 1957. With the change of a very few shots, it could have been set in any country, and with some updating (or, indeed, predating), at any time. Like any serious film about war, it is rather upsetting, and its simplicity tends to exacerbate this; rather more so than would some trendy, progressive  treatment. Is this a great film? Well, I, Melachi, in 2012, would say it is a fine film, within its limitations.

The Don flows home, finally

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did read "The Don Flows Home to the Sea", the sequel to "Quiet Flows the Don" by Mikhail Sholokhov, in English translation, over a two year period, on the beaches of several continents, finishing in October 2012 (though I did other things as well). Any reader of this review will have already gathered that I did not find it the most gripping of books. It deals with the Russian Civil War between the Whites, in particular the Cossacks, and the Communists. I will not reveal who wins, in order not to spoil the enjoyment of any who remain ignorant. Any selection of half-a-dozen pages or so of this novel, which is extremely long, will find a brief and impenetrable description of the stage of a campaign, a few paragraphs of naturalistic description of the steppe (e.g. "Where the ploughed land lay in frozen waves of silver snow, where the earth had been wrapped in dead ripples since the autumn, there, gripping the soil with greedy, living roots..." p.109) and a bit of fighting or a description of a dismal cossack dwelling. The campaigns are, to my mind, impossible to follow; I assume they make sense -  someone with a good map and taking notes of the offensives and principal characters might have better luck. The last two hundred pages or so are easier to read, if only because most of the protagonists have died. Indeed, the book differs from the previous instalment in that there are not so many people in it and the women do not get beaten up and abused quite as frequently, though again this may simply reflect the gradual deaths of their menfolk. The portrayal of the cossacks is memorable and remorseless: the overall impression is of lives nasty and brutish among the proud and stubborn. There is little of cinematic nobility or honour here. Some of the scenes of the women, in particular their deaths, are quite harrowing. But Melachi observes that life is generally rather unpleasant, if one thinks about it too much, and it appears this has especially been the case in Russia. In sum, I would say these are fine works, but the control of the flow of events is insufficient to recommend the endurance of their enormous length.

Um Om ...

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did attend the gig of the King Midas Sound and Om, on Sunday 30 September 2012, at the Scala, in London. The first band played loud sequenced bass beats with a few synthesizer warbles and occasional female and male vocals. It sounded like a rather slow and murky hip-hop. I had heard that "Om" themselves played modern interpretations of Byzantine chant. Judging by the many greasy, top-knotted beardies paying their respects I would not have been surprised to hear that the patriarch himself had sent a delegation. They presented a sort of drum and bass, occasionally with  rather weedy, synthesized oriental-sounding themes over the top. After about half an hour I stopped waiting to see what more was going to happen and simply experienced the totality. What can I say about this concert? Obviously to my ears it would have been greatly improved with a couple more guitars, and so I much preferred the Shrinebuilder project of their bassist (in London last year). But this sort of "heavy minimalism" is not something in which I have much expertise, and I cannot say this gig inspired me, Melachi, to acquire any.

Rocking in the Chicken Cottage

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did visit the Chicken Cottage restaurant by Mornington Crescent tube station, 21 High Street, Camden Town, London, on 22 September 2012. The price of 2 pieces of chicken and fries was approximately 50p more than in a neighbouring chicken establishment, nevertheless it seemed less crowded so I entered. Ordering the meal at £2.49 the pleasant though slightly bored operative asked if I would like a drink, and I asked how much a drink was. He said it was included and so I ordered 7-up, which was provided in a can. He then charged me £2.99, which I noticed was indeed the price of the meal displayed, when ordered with a drink. The additional cost of the can was therefore a further 50p, making a total additional cost of £1. He invited me to sit down if I was dining in, which I did, and he brought the food to my table and then transferred a tomato ketchup bottle to me as well, which was nice. The table was not perfectly clean, but not too bad; the window was seriously cracked, and there was a black bag, presumably with rubbish, pushed under the bench on which I was sitting, close to a standard plastic bin, though a built-in plastic bin was also available at the other side of the store. A man entered and showed the salesman an expensive looking watch; he shook his head and the man exited. Another man came and ordered some food; when he sat down, on the end of the same long bench, it rocked back and forth in an annoying manner, and continued to do so repeatedly. This bench clearly needed some more screws.

As for the food, the tomato ketchup was a little watery and probably not from Heinz. The fries were acceptable though some could have been warmer. The first piece of chicken was pleasantly moist, though would have benefited from a more interesting selection of spices and herbs. The second piece of chicken was a little dry.

I then placed my refuse in the more distant disposal bin, said goodbye to the salesman, and took my leave. In total, I would say it was on the good side of a fried chicken meal, and one's choice might depend on one's financial situation; next time I would be inclined to pay a pound or two more and visit the Colonel.

Ensiferum: swords and tubes

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did attend the Finnish roadshow led by Ensiferum at the Islington Academy on 18 September, 2012. The first band I thought had a new-mettalish sound, though calming down to a more conventional guttural and rhythm attack. I do not remember anything else about them. The second band, Amoral, were a bit similar but with more melodic themes, some guitar solos, and an impressive singer whose vocals ranged from the early Axl to the more modern guttural. Ensiferum began with a Irish jig type rhythm, and may well have played exactly the same theme for the next hour and half. I believe this is known as folk metal. The lyrics were mainly about the raising of swords, meant literally, but I could not hear them well. Generally, they resembled Alestorm, but without the jokes. They were deliriously received by a youngish crowd who bounced vigorously together throughout the entire set. Well, this was rather unsophisticated for the musical tastes of Melachi, though might have gone down well with foaming tankards, buxom wenches, and some sort of castle or great hall with long wooden benches and oak tables. However, the ambience of the Academy is modernist, the beer too expensive, and the girls thin and selling Jagermeister in curious tubes. I say yea to potential Oktoberfest experience, nay to exposed pipework.
 

Everywhere, Overdrive

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being a man of wealth and taste, did read Dana Johnson's novel "Elsewhere, California" (2012) in August 2012, since I had heard it dealt with a black girl who liked Led Zeppelin. Unfortunately, I find this girl also likes to talk about African-American hairstyles, modern art, and, especially, baseball. I know nothing about these latter topics, so their semiotics, if any, remain oblique to me. She is from a poor area, and goes to a better area, then to college and eventually finds herself living with a wealthy "European", all in Los Angeles. The latter sections are intercut with the earlier ones, so I am not giving away the plot. The book is in the narrative present and the sections dealing with childhood are in a black dialect, which gradually whitens out as the story progresses. The transition from life in a poor (but decent) family to a situation of relative wealth strikes me as more crucial than the racial aspects, which makes the book less programmatic than it might have been, though whether this is due to the nature of the city in particular, or the country in general, I cannot say. It is all somewhat earnest, correct and reflective, more like a memoir than a piece of dramatic literature. The overall experience resembles the watching of a ballet, perhaps portraying the release of a battery chicken, and with the sound turned down. The childhood sections are not terribly interesting, being the thoughts of a 9-11 year old, but it gets better towards the end. And who can resist the image of the blacks of West Covina bopping to the Bachman-Turner Overdrive? Certainly not Melachi!

Borderline Magenta

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did attend the Magenta gig at the Borderline, London, on 8 September 2012. It was the first band heard by myself of the 2012/13 season, indeed since Black Sabbath at Donington Park, so there was something for them to live up to. The first band was Alan Reed, actually an acoustic guitar with an electric keyboard player. The songs he played were rather long and involved for an acoustic treatment, which is generally used for fairly simple melodies and heartfelt lyrics. Some of the exposed vocals were slightly painful, and I am not sure what possessed him to finish with an acoustic treatment of Peter Gabriel's "Biko" (as I could never quite work out why Peter Gabriel himself used to finish with it). However, he did say he had some CDs available with the songs played by a full band, and that these would sound different (for which I read, better).

The gigs of Prog are possibly the least stylish of all possible events (indeed, the only other non-balding person there was a lady scribbling in a reporters notebook), but since the lead guitarist of Magenta made the effort to wear a natty red tie, let the annals record that Melachi was wearing drainpipe jeans, in black, Clarks goretex boots, in black, an Electric Wizard T-shirt, predominantly black, topped off with a collared shirt, left open, in a fetching shade of black. Magenta clearly have that Prog choppy rhythm well sorted, the guitarist being excellent in all respects, other than the tie, using brief explosions of appeggios to mark the entries, in the style of Yes or IQ.  Their lead singer had, I think, a bit of an issue with rhythmic attack, and tended to bend the notes a lot, in the manner of a cabaret singer; more seriously she seemed to be singing to herself most of the time, sometimes with her eyes shut. She might work at slower and more directed movements, taking command of the stage, and being present for all the audience, particularly in such a small venue. She seemed more an accompanist to the guitarist. A few riffs would have added some variety and the singer could have strapped on a rhythm guitar to get some more meat into the instrumental sections. Nevertheless, they were almost there and I, Melachi, enjoyed this gig and would not mind seeing them again.

Blood of Aquarius

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did audition the album "The Thousandfold Epicentre" (2012) by "The Devil's Blood", in June 2012. I should record that my first impulse, on opening this, in the 2LP version, was literally to wow at the album-sized lyric booklet, in a magnificent multi-coloured style with spidering script on surrealistic imagery somewhere between William Blake and Salvador Dali. I cannot immediately recall such impressive presentation, particularly in the digital age. As to the music, my first thoughts were - retro, in fact so retro I would not have been surprised to hear them launch into "Age of Aquarius". Essentially a hippy-chick vocal sometimes doubled, with driving but not very heavy rock, certainly no more so, than, say, Procol Harum. But the most remarkable thing is the rhythm, it is all in a galloping pace, which I think is technically 8/8, and quite unusual elsewhere. Even in the couple of slow songs at the end, they feel as though they are just waiting to go back into that rhythm. As to the lyrics themselves, they seem to be about the relationships between the material and the spiritual, and it is somewhat satanic, though more in the abstract Manichaean sense than the simpler "dark mass" variety. The guitars play a muted role, and the songs are progressive, in that they progress, but more in the sense of variations on a simple theme than fully fledged-song suites. The last three tracks are slower and more atmospheric, the final one having a long play-out section which is not perhaps sufficiently varied to be interesting on record. 

So, retro and remarkable, but is this actually any good? I think it is very good, in terms of presentation, unity of theme, general musicality, and consistency (there are no weak tracks). I would very much like to see them live, when I imagine this band could easily sound much heavier and the play-out sections would be more effective. The weakness is that there are no stand-out songs - I have heard it many times and cannot quite remember any themes. But compared to other releases around this is clearly one of the most interesting, and it is blessed by Melachi (in the sign of the cross, that shall be inverted!).

Hotel Falesia, Portugal

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being a man of wealth and taste, did spend a week at the Hotel Falesia, Alcoteiras, Portugal, in July 2012. Obviously, not a man of that much taste, or I would not have stayed there. The first problem with this hotel is that it does not have any obvious stairs, meaning it is necessary to hang around for the lift, even if just going one floor. The next problem is that it is not by the beach. There is a shuttle, or a half-hour walk down the elevator of neighbouring hotel, where one would have to rent chairs and parasols and pay 12 euro for a cocktail. Third, on half-board they do not serve water at dinner unless you pay extra for it, the minimum being E1.50 for a very small bottle. Fourth, there is only one pool, one restaurant (a buffet), and no entertainment worth mentioning, except a strange quartet of reps, one of whom is out of tune (being a charitable person, I will not say which). There is nothing interesting nearby (it is a modern resort area), and it is also rather a long walk (one and a half hours) from the town of Albufeira. On the other hand, the staff are friendly, personable and efficient, but without the annoying, automatic bustling efficiency that one finds in resorts catering to US visitors. The hotel was clean and the room service was fine. There were just about enough sun loungers. Some complained the water in the pool was too cold. Cheapest cocktail was 5 euros, a pint of beer was 3 euros, and there was a 1 hour happy hour when it was 1.50. Jigsaws were available. However, Hugo's plastic-chair bar by the road down the steps at the front charged euro 1.50 for beer at all hours, and also with friendly service. A 5 litre box of wine is available from the supermarket there for about 4 euros.

Dining Hall

Chef Angelo is himself a great advertisement for the attraction of his food; I particularly recall the chef veal and the chef orange duck. But not a place to come if hoping for steaks, hamburgers, outdoor grills, hot dogs, or lobster and seafood on ice.

Police assist stranded day-trippers

The Western Wonders tour with Jose and Joaquin was excellent. The trip to Seville was a disaster with only a few hours in the town, the guide saying little of interest but in three languages, and the coach breaking down on the way back leaving us in the bus on the side of the motorway without air-conditioning for two hours.

Metalhead count was two: slipknot t-shirt on longhair with his parents, and motorhead t-shirt on tattoos in Lagos. Porsche count was also rather low, mainly Cayennes.

Obviously, I, Melachi, was not the target market for this hotel, and cannot quite remember why I booked it. Might suit people over sixty, though 

if I were over sixty I do not think it would suit me. 

Edit:
~Edit:This 


This review provoked a nice answer from the Hotel Manager and the following hilarious comments:

Download in 2012

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did attend the Download Festival at Donington Park, England, in June 2012, arriving just in time to hear Opeth phone in their last song and complain they had travelled from Sweden for 10 hours to play for forty minutes. Well, some of us travelled for  8 hours from London and if they have this attitude and continue writing self-indulgent jazz then the conceited quilt-smuggler will find himself playing for twenty minutes after an intercontinental flight to Guam, where the Steel Panther's album has reached quadruple platinum, so the leotards informed us, having sold 500 copies, which I think might be an overestimate, since second-rate cod-80's metal is superior only to, say, third rate cod-80's metal, speaking of which the Black Veil Brides rather bravely appeared on stage to the most hostile reception I have seen for a long time, though I do not think any of the mud actually struck them; to be fair numbers of supporters were also present and I did get the impression they were the real deal with a rock and roll attitude. These latter bands bookended Trivium, the step up in performance being quite embarrassing, they do seem to get better, or at least I get more accustomed to them each time they appear; indeed the day started off with As I Lay Dying sounding rather like, well, Trivium. And after Opeth I had heard Nightwish, a rather operatic production, might be nice to watch from the balcony of a peristylum hall somewhere, rather spoilt by the lead singer's Swedish accent sounding rather like a headmistress of one of the better schools. Sylosis romped in the murky acoustics of the Max tent, out of tune to start with and the guitar remaining rather low in the mix throughout, probably not their best performance, and the vocals a bit weak, compared to many of the other bands in similar style. Suggest they find a vocalist who can sing and write some lyrics, leaving the lead guitar free for concentrated shredding. Then let them continue to carve their brutal sonic cathedrals in the darkest mines of Moria. The Butcher Babies have a fair old chop to go to reach this level, screaming incoherently to metalcore backing. They said they would be in Aberystwyth next week, but did not specify the street corner. After the Biffy Clyro, no idea what they were doing there, played Metallica, sounding rather like... Trivium. I suggest they get an extra guitar or a synthesizer if they don't want to remain a novelty act.

Saxon played a very well received set early Saturday to a large crowd, looking rather more lively than I had seen them a week or two ago in London; the same could be said of Kobra and the Lotus who started Sunday. Devildriver and Lamb of God delivered their punishing thrash to fearsome pits. The softer sounds of  Sanguine were rather lost behind the pummelling rhythms of the nearby stage. A rare treasure was Mechanical Smile, playing an angsty rock entrancing the bedroom jam stage. The singer might work on looking at the fret board rather less when picking out her chords. The ritual of Ghost was exceptional in type among the performers at Download, and not at all bad in form either, and I wonder if there is not more room for the theatrical or prog approach on the modern scene.

Oh, and the last act were Black Sabbath, with an excellent bassist, fine guitarist, very physical drummer and an odd but very effective front man. They played almost entirely the earlier, blues-based material, rather a curious choice in such a large venue, and sounded quite different to all the other bands.

Wall Trips

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did read Mick Wall's "Paranoid: Black Days with Sabbath and Other Horror Stories" (1999) in June 2012. The narrator claims to have been a music journalist and the book is about his use of heroin and other drugs, while interviewing various metal bands in the late 1980s. He repeatedly says that he was only interested in drugs and that everything he wrote was nonsense. Such a pronouncement may not be the best advertisement for the book; but I can confirm that he indeed has nothing interesting to say on any subject whatsoever, particularly the music itself. He appears contemptuous of everyone, and very much on the fringes of the bands he writes about. My copy ends suddenly on page 222; I do not know if this a manufacturing error, or is supposed to represent something sinister. Sudden overdose? Sudden sobriety? Fascinating, I, Melachi, am sure.

Metal Gods on Repeat

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did attend the Judas Priest concert on 26 May, 2012, at the Hammersmith Apollo, London. The first band, Kobra and the Lotus, did not provide any enlightenment as to their curious moniker, playing fairly standard metal of the traditional style, indeed sounding quite similar to Judas Priest themselves, though the generally fine lady vocalist singing about an octave lower. The lead guitarist was also quite notable, but I would have to hear a few more of his solos to finally pronounce on that point; they were not on for long, though, since the sound was a bit sludgy in the lower midrange, they were  rather difficult to listen to. The second band, Saxon, were quite well-known in their time, and played in a similar style. I thought the rhythm guitar attack most impressive. The Metal Gods themselves played I think the same set as in London last year, which was a bit of a disappointment. Under Blood Red Skies was in my opinion the best, though no-one else seemed to like it. Having seen Rammstein recently, the flames were not terribly exciting. The music of the style of this era is not my favourite, being rather simple and poppy (except for Iron Maiden, obviously), but who can resist a man in hooded silver cloak, together with trident? He said that the Priest would be back, and if they are, so will Melachi.

Uprising of Angels

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being a man of wealth and taste, did read Marc Baldwin's novel "Uprising of Angels" (2011) in May 2012, since it deals with a topic of interest to me. It is the story of some residents of a ghetto area of Los Angeles involved in the 1992 riots. It is written in a modern narrative style, from the point of view of the characters, though in the third person, using the language they might have used, had they been inspired to write down what they were thinking, and thus some sentences are rather long, no doubt  to give the impression of immersion, a bit like this, but with simpler words. Sections dealing with one of the gangs are written in what I believe may be an African-American patois, and in the present tense. Sections dealing with the Koreans are in Korean. Despite this, it seems quite well-written and these artifices did not bother me too much. There is some bad language and violence, though not as explicit as you might expect. The plot is quite similar to a police action movie, though there are rather too many characters for it to be a screenplay. It doesn't seek to analyze the city or the riots in depth. I would perhaps have liked fewer characters looked at in more detail, as the book is not very long. Though you could argue that the people of that area are not very interesting anyway, or they would not be rioting. I did find the premise that a white family would move from La Jolla to South Central Los Angeles rather hard to believe. And one of the gang members has an ex-wife who says at one point "I am a full professor of literature at USC and Deacon at the Church" which seemed to stretch credulity. Some more detailed description of the environment would have been nice, and a map.  


How this compares to other action literature, I cannot say, for I do not read such literature. Whether the black dialogue and dialect-narrative is realistic I will not comment, for I do not know any such people, though it would be interesting to hear from them on this point. Whether the book would be admired by fans of the film "Crash", as is suggested on the back cover,  I do not know, because I have not seen this film. But I quite liked this book, and was joking about sections being in Korean. 

Hackett Still Wired

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did attend a concert of Steve Hackett, at the Assembly Hall, Islington, London, on Sunday 20 May, 2012. He is best known as the former Genesis guitarist with a distinctive pianistic style, involving muting the strings after each note is struck, giving an effect very like a synthesizer; and for an extraordinarily chromatic solo at the end of the 1973 live recording of "The Knife".

Forty years on, neither chromaticism or pianism were much in evidence, the guitar work being rather conventional, and he really needs to work out to be a bona fide guitar God. The show had an interval, and I had a comfy chair at the front. The first half was 70s material from his old group and first solo album. Highlights were Watcher of the Skies and the outro section from the Acolyte. The drumming vocalist is best not remarked upon, though the original bar was set rather low. The lower string of the bass was slightly out of tune at the beginning. There was a backing guitarist I could scarcely hear, who also sang pleasantly enough. The second half was newer material neither I nor most of the audience had previously heard, a bit like Mostly Autumn crossed with King Crimson. The male vocals sounded taped. The saxophonist was excellent, though to turn the tension up a further notch some phrases could have been bluer (flatter). Rock guitarists who try to lead their bands have always struck me as an oddity: Slash, Schenker, Rutherford; Hackett also. I suggest he let someone like the lady vocalist ("Amanda" I believe) reinterpret the Genesis songs, if not all of them, and make the show more of a collective affair. Where is the shame in playing the guitar? Particularly when it is still connected by actual wires. Melachi has spoken!

Primordial Prime in Islington

6 May 2012, 00:13

Sat 5 May – Primordial, Hell, Winterfylleth

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did grant an audience to Primordial at the 02 Islington, London, on 5 May 2012. I heard most of the first band,Winterfylleth, and was impressed. They played much in the brisk shamanic two-step of the pagan style, which I had last heard from Wolves in the Throne Room, though with their songs nicely structured and decent variations. My only query was whether the shamanic two-step was entirely suited for "English" pagan metal, is it not more a Nordic or Eastern structure? I was sorry not to pick up their vinyls after the gig.

Next were a band "Hell", strangely I had never seen them before. The cross of thorns borne by their singer was interesting, and the crow-mask when he moved to "bring out your dead" even more so; and when we got to the auto-flagellation, this was perhaps excessive... I last saw blood in Islington from the lady of the Theatre des Vampyres, perhaps they should get together. Strangely I had complained only last week of the lack of synchronism in the headbanging of Insomnium, here we actually had choreographed headbanging, with the heads moving to the back and the side in order. My question with regard to these gentlemen was I think relating to the music, always important for a band, I feel, and here not entirely exceptional. Their song about Macbeth was perhaps not at the same level as the rest (being a rather odd topic). I hoped they would do a metalled-up rendition of "Gethsemane" towards the end, but was not to be. But very interesting, and I would like to see them again, though perhaps not buy their records, if any. And I do not think I would go as far as the young lady in front of me, with a tattoo of pitchforks, possibly their emblem, in a circle between her shoulder blades.

Then the headliners, Primordial, as they said, from Ireland, Republic of. I thought he asked rather too frequently whether we were alone, since the answer was not altogether unclear. But a very impressive vocalist, who could perhaps add a little menace to his repertoire, and with actually meaningful lyrics, quite a rare thing in the metal scene, possibly the Irish influence. If only Opeth could write a lyric at least once in a while! Had many epic, powerful and memorable songs, I recall Coffin Ships, Judas, and Empire Falls, and one about Slaves of Rome, - and to remember this never having previously heard them is great credit to them. A few more guitar solos and a greater moshing would have improved matters still further. Hope to see them back in London soon.

Aye to a great line-up of bands, one of the best I have heard. Nay to early curfew; in fact my companions and I took revenge by staying on for the subsequent Club de Fromage disco and got thrown out for excessive slam dancing. Which was not a sorrow.

Melachi out of the Zone of Dovlatov

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being a man of wealth and taste, did read Sergei Dovlatov's novel "The Zone" (1982), in May 2012 (in an English translation purchased from the rather nice Russian Bookstore at Waterstone's Piccadilly). The book comprises short stories about prison camp life in the former Soviet Union, linked together with brief letters to a putative publisher. The stories deal with relations between guards and zeks (prisoners), the author having been a prison guard. Nothing really happens in any of the stories, and it is rather difficult to keep track of the characters, who are numerous and all very similar, or why the paragraphs follow one another in the order they do. Although in simple language, and apparently without literary pretensions, I could not understand what was actually meant to be implied by many of the sentences. Such as, at random: "The girl's lips were warm and rough as a small leaf warmed by the sun" (p. 85).  "The over-laundered flag hung limply,"... etc. The book is not satirical, unless it is a great surprise to you that relationships exist between people in prisons. The list of "shocking" things he says he "could have written about" is rather unlikely to shock anyone.  Unless it is a sort of double-bluff. Who knows? Who cares? I would suggest the book would have been better written as a classical novel with a plot, and some well-defined characters. If the book is not a critique of the specifically Soviet prison system, admittedly a well trodden path, it is not easy to gather its purpose. These are the words of Melachi!

Paradise indeed Lost, at the Scala

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did grant an audience to Vreid, Insomnium and Paradise Lost, at the Scala, London, on 29 April 2012, and hereby bring my report. Of Vreid, I saw but a little, having been delayed by an extremely long queue, the Underground, and an entirely new station having been erected at Kings Cross. They were playing a little marching music when I arrived, with growling vocals. I could not make much of it. Next up were Insomnium, a melodic death metal band, melodic being a relative term in this sort of company, referring to the inclusion of audible chord changes and lead guitar solos, both of which this band did include, and rather well. I thought they were extremely good and particularly crushing towards the end with a number "one for sorrow". They did not get to the joy, but this is also not unusual. I shall certainly look them up in future, though their headbanging could be better synchronised.

The main act were Paradise Lost, who seemed to take a long time to get on stage. They were OK, though I would not have known they were a "doom metal" band had I not so heard previously, since a surprising number of the songs resembled covers of Depeche Mode. The singer appeared to have a sore throat, and was not projecting very well. I heard them once before, when they were outclassed by the support band (Ghost), here I am afraid I also felt it was Insomnium's night. Paradise Lost suffered from a lack of killer numbers, which, considering how long they have been around, is probably irremediable. I have four of their albums, and can only remember one track, actually, "As I Die", which isn't really very good either. Here they played it somewhere in the middle, which left the audience audibly musing what they would finish with. Also this was one of the few times I have known a crowd stand in bored silence waiting for the band to return for the "encore". Could be everyone's favourite support, though.

Let you kneel before the ears of Melachi!

Melachi at the feet of the Electric Wizards

Melachi at the feet of the Electric Wizards, 31 March 2012

2 Apr 2012, 19:29

Sat 31 Mar – Electric Wizard, Witchsorrow, Age Of Taurus, Purson

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did attend the Electric Wizard Concert at the HMV Forum in London on 31 March, 2012, and hereby bring my judgement. I had not previously heard of the 3 support bands.

The first act, Purson, most mighty merchants of the metal-riff, were befittingly bearded. The lead guitar could have been higher in the mix towards the end -- to more fully manifest the majesty of such a regressive woolly mammoth of an axe-wielder! I will most certainly be seeing them again.

The second band, Age of Taurus, I originally thought were all female, but upon closer examination it became apparent that probably only one was female, the others merely wearing coloured clothes, though who knows what a still more thorough investigation might reveal! They were accompanied by an odd sitar-like instrument, but to my ears were neither fully witchy or properly progressive, nor well-structured, nor even free-jazz, in the neo-Opethian sense, but merely rather confusing. I would say I was rather puzzled by them and not too inclined to repeat the experience.

The third band, Witchsorrow, all 3 members, had an extremely loud bass playing rather banal riffs so that at times the feedback drowned out the rest, though there was in truth not much more there to hear in any case. I suggest in my mind that they write some more interesting riffs.

The Electric Wizards themselves played from 9:35 to 11:05, against projections of Italian and Dutch horror films. There were three guitarists, backed by a splendidly lugubrious drummer. They were almost static, and I hope at their next seance to see them staring down, upstanding on pillars, in the manner of the ancient stylites. After a few songs the music was turned up to an acceptable level, and the riffs became too distorted to hear clearly. The overall effect was not unlike Hawkwind, back in the day.

Aye to neo-psychedelic experience, and Italian girls banging and lighting up all around me (I was near the front). Nay, that I could not recognise the tracks, as the music fundamentally sounded all the same. Be warned - all bands played extremely loud, and I wore earplugs throughout except at the end. Also, the clear 7" single on sale at the back turns, preferably, at 33rpm.

Behold, ye mighty! For I, Melachi, have spoken!

Melachi and The Acacia Strain, who were not pretty

Melachi survives a band that were not pretty                                           

Sat 17 Mar – The Acacia Strain, TRC, Brutality Will Prevail, Honour Is Dead, Chorus of Nine

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did attend a concert of The Acacia Strain at the Underworld, in Camden, London, on 17 March 2012, and hereby bring my report. I missed all the support bands, having to see a man about a dog in the nearby Burger King, a filthy place where they were refusing to give trays even to customers dining in. Furthermore, although I ordered an Aberdeen Angus burger, there was nothing on the packaging to suggest the unfortunate creature had grazed in the highlands, and was not actually from Uruguay.

On wandering to the Underworld, I found that there seemed to be a party going on outside, where the enterprising youth stood around upended crates sipping a weak beer. A strangely early curfew meant that the gig was almost over. The venue itself was only partly filled, but with very old people, including grannies and crusties with walking frames. My companion ordered a Guinness, it being St Patrick's night, which was decanted into several glasses before arriving, and the taste of which, he remarked, left anything Irish much to the imagination.

We ventured to the pit, where the band began to play. As they announced, they were not a pretty band, and I would not disagree with that. I was not familiar with their oeuvre, which resembled a sort of punky music but played on detuned guitars rather than the nasty jangly ones. I did not notice any guitar leads and the songs all sounded quite similar. Among the bands I know, it was most similar to Lamb of God, but less dynamic rhythmically, maybe. The volume level was rather low except at the end. They also said they were all about aggression and nihilism; I could not hear the lyrics (although many of the audience were singing along to them), but I have no reason to doubt that either. There was some dancing at the front of the stage, and quite a lot of stage diving. Unfortunately, I had damaged my knee in the Cannibal Corpse mosh-pit the previous weekend (what nobler reason could one give for such an injury?), so was unable to take part on this occasion. There is also a pillar in front of the stage in that venue, which may as well have been expressly designed to break the neck of any stage diver. Though there were some flailing fists (or at least windmills) I would not say the atmosphere was particularly aggressive, though I understand someone twisted his ankle.

I say yea to... well, not a lot really, though I quite enjoyed it. Nay to random fists, however well-intentioned.

Behold, ye mighty, for I, Melachi, have spoken!

A-le-storm, and the Vet

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did attend the gig of Alestorm and associated Pirate Metallers on Saturday, 18 February 2012, at the Islington Academy. The first band I heard were "Claim the Throne". They were intoxicated before playing their first note, and continued to drink through large funnels, which they passed among the crowd. Their tunes were folkish, though they seemed to lose their way and guitar strings somewhere in the middle. The band Alestorm sounded quite similar, and were greeted by a great waving of plastic cutlasses and eyepatches from a youngish and equally intoxicated crowd. I could hear every word they said, and the lyrics were indeed quite witty. Very much a party band, then, and I would not mind another party, though cannot imagine actually listening to their records in my living place.

Returning to that place, at the bus stop I met a young lady, returning from the concert, dressed in black, with folded head kerchief, saying that she had been to see "A-le-storm", which she pronounced in three syllables and in an American accent, as though she were unaware that "Ale" is, in England, a common beverage, a bit like Coca-Cola; and there she encountered two others, but dressed with colours, indeed stylishly, and it transpired that they had known one another before, in Hong Kong, and had not met for many months. Finding myself seated alongside this latter couple onto the bus, they announced how much that first lady had changed, that she used to dress like a normal person, but now looked like a freak; that they had never heard of where she had claimed to go to Veterinary college (London Met) and that she had always been strange, though that it was good she had adopted a strange and new character, in a strange land.

I, Melachi, have no comment to make, other than such is many a mosher's lot. But this is a tale told by Melachi, and it is a true story.

Melachi Dreams of a Theater at Wembley Arena

Melachi Dreams of a Theatre

 (edit | delete)

Fri 10 Feb – Dream Theater, Periphery

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did attend the Dream Theater concert at the Wembley Arena on 10 February 2012, and hereby bring my report.

First, the tickets were somewhat expensive and the Arena was only a half full, and I was rather far from the stage. It was also rather odd standing in a seating zone, as it was not thereby possible either to sit in a disinterested manner or to move forward in a natural manner. I would recommend this band to book a smaller venue in future, particularly if they charge these prices; I for one would be reluctant to go to the Arena again. It was also rather cold.

The support band were Periphery, most sat to listen to them. I had not heard them before; they sounded remarkably like Dream Theater with some guttural vocals. They started and finished rather neatly and their last song did sound quite interesting, I would be happy to see them again. They might have played for longer, maybe started earlier.

The popularity of Dream Theater themselves is rather a mystery to me, with guitars and keyboards without a heart and a singer like the fabulous Freddy without the tunes. I have seen them three times; on this occasion they were I thought rather slow off the mark, however after a silly acoustic section they seemed to warm up, or perhaps turned the volume up, and it took off more. I, Melachi, am a great enemy of drum solos, and invariably use them to get a few drinks; however their drummer, whom I had never heard of until he appeared on stage at the High Voltage festival the previous year, then produced a splendid and listenable-to drum solo, and this evening was the same. He is without doubt the finest drummer I have heard. And I have even heard Phil Collins! Now I just have to learn his name. The final track the band played in the main set, Breaking All Illusions, did move towards the sublime, particularly the guitar solo, though one might have hoped for this level throughout the evening. So finally I walked the causeway to the station not dissatisfied.

Aye to the more relaxed compositions, leaving the performers and audience some room to breath. Nay to lack of opera glasses.

These are the words of Melachi!