Now that Hammerfest has headed off to the sunnier climes of Great Yarmouth metal visitors to the West North West are fewer and further between. Hence even on a school night the opportunity had to be grabbed to see and hear some heavy vibes, as the Corby-ite sludge sluggers swung by this way on a UK tour.
What better way to emerge from the bleak/mild midwinter than with an uplifting day of blackened metal in the frozen wastes of South Yorkshire. The strong and interesting line-up put me in a mind our trip to the highly enjoyable North of the Wall in Scotland a few years ago, if on a smaller scale. In keeping with the hazards of dabbling with the dark ways the event had taken on a cursed aspect with a last minute forced change of venue/ city, and the loss of a couple of bands, but once you’ve committed to black you can’t go back. The prime bands I wanted to see were still there so all was good.
Hawkwind
There’s not many bands that have been going longer than me! Earlier in the summer I celebrated Black Sabbath’s 50th at the heart warming Home of Metal exhibition in Brum, hot on their heels, well… maybe at the top speed of a mobility scooter Hawkwind are having their 50th anniversary via a tour culminating at the Albert Hall in London. Johnny come lately Mark only first saw them 10 years ago but have enjoyed all their incarnations and tangential exploration sets I’ve caught since so thought this would be a celebration not to miss.
Despite running on fumes from the weekend, I was determined to have one more expedition to extend the entertainment, plus to test my faith in my new dodgy car with a cross-country trek. Had missed the headliners earlier this year at Roadburn when they were the last band of the whole event, and we couldn’t get into church venue they were playing so had a listen outside for a bit and then retired replete. They were raved about though, and it had been a while since I’d seen the awesome Bast, and even been to Nottingham, so foot to the floor we headed east.
I was already hungover in Manchester after a Saturday trip to FCUM and firm but fair refusal to gain entry to some Northern Quarter Establishments. Gave up trying to solve the mystery of where all the whiskey went and tried to restore the cultural balance visiting some art galleries. And more pubs. By mid-afternoon I was suffering badly but what better way to clear the head than Greeks bearing the gift of hardcore.