Sold on Devil Chimp

A Chimpspanner

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did attend the gig of Sylosis, Devil Sold His Soul and Chimpspanner, at the Academy Islington, London, on 24 January 2013. When Chimpspanner started I groaned, as they appeared to be a vocal-less 3 piece playing jazz fusion, but after a while a deep metallism came through, matched by great and well-structured virtuosity, without any pointless guitar solos. But probably half an hour of this was enough, as it is difficult to concentrate on a band without a lead and obvious themes for much longer than that. Nevertheless, excellent supporting material.

He sold his soul

Next Devil Sold His Soul, the singer giving a fine appearance of a chimp, leaping and screaming. Initially again I was not impressed, but gradually began to remark the strange slowness of many of the songs and the frequent almost processional passages, as though he were shouting incantations, against a funereal beat with swirling synthesizers, also with no guitar leads, despite numerous guitarists. Though I have no idea was he was screaming about. Won over, I picked up their CD next day at HMV. But I think the repetitive sections would benefit from more sophisticated modulation. Some of the "clean" vocals were painfully out of tune.

Sylosis and shorthairs

Sylosis played for a bit under an hour and a half, the sound quality was excellent and the vocals were much stronger than I heard previously, and the guitars seemed this time in tune throughout. The material from their new album seemed more aggressive but with less of an epic quality than the rest. Curiously some resembled the folk metal bands, more like a jig, I suppose this follows from playing complex figures quickly. All in all, I, Melachi, found this a most satisfactory evening.

No pain (au chocolat)

View in cracked mirror

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did stay at the Mirabeau hotel, Brussels, in January 2013. The hotel is located in a sort of gay Arabic district on the grimy boulevard to the Gare Midi, though next to the tram stop; in all a location probably not recommended for those of nervous disposition. Presenting my booking, the clerk gave no signs of recognising it, and asked for payment in advance, though he did take a credit card. I climbed the steps to the fifth floor, rather a mistake since the intermediate floors seemed under construction with wires hanging from the walls and lights in the very narrow stairwells going on and off intermittently. The room itself was small but acceptable, and appeared recently refurbished, though the mirror had a long crack, and the flush required judicious fiddling with the cracked button-panel to stop it running continuously.
There was no bath but the shower worked. The TV channels were all in foreign languages; the beer glasses were a thin plastic. The room was not very warm, though the heating was set to maximum; there was snow on the ground outside, which may explain this. I was woken at 4am by drunken people shouting from the street below, shortly followed by rubbish collecting vans, and did not get much more sleep. Descending for breakfast I found that the elevator did in fact work, it was just that the summoning light did not illuminate. For breakfast there was self-service with several pieces of not terribly fresh bread, one type of cheese and small packages of jam, with coffee and tea. There were no croissants or pain au chocolats. But for that, I would stay again, at least during the financial crisis.