(review by neil crud, pic sent by ruth)
It seems my theory that Rhyl goes through a boom n bust cycle every decade is true. Dave Gintis also said that if you have 5 local bands and each band member goes out to watch other bands and each band brings 5 mates aswell, then you have an instant crowd. Only it’s stopped happening. The bands that are playing will bring their mates, but there are no other musos watching. There is no core crowd. Maybe all the other bands are busy plying their trade, or maybe the truth of the matter is that the door policy dictatorship now denies entry to anyone who looks a sniff under 18. Jesus! Even I had to show ID the other day!
So if it is bust, then we have another two years of this until the next boom comes along. Although, if we believe the tabloids we’re all gonna be on the dole and homeless by christmas, so a night out in Rhyl to see some bands will be our only relief from the turgid existence that lies ahead.
So if you are faced with unemployment, you might be inclined to ask Giant for a job warming the drummer’s stool or maybe a dabble on the keyboards. For a band with songs to fill a stadium that could probably make the b-side of a Chris Martin composition, Giant sadly lack in those two vacant departments. I don’t care what anyone says but the Sisters of Mercy were shit with a drum machine, as were Carter USM. No bollocks y’see and no one to use as an excuse to not do a gig – (the drummer’s broke his wrist in a freak masturbation accident).
This is Giant’s latest jaunt around the more salubrious backrooms of the area, and it’s impossible not to start lobbing analogies about ‘finding their feet in the world’ and ‘deciding on a direction in life,’ despite Giant now being amongst the elder statesmen for rock from these parts.
On the contrary Impaled Existence are young, bumfluffed and unwashed. With the drumkit hardly mic’d up, they still have to learn that turning their 14 guitars up to max volume drowns the drums and downs the power of their songs. On the otherhand, it was still entertaining as fuck despite sounding like a rampaging herd of amplified chainsaws.
Impaled’s brain busting blend of metal thrash and sonic assault are as brutal as I’ve seen. The bands’ wild and chaotic guitars were on a perpetual search for the start of the apocalypse. The problem is that their attack is so relentless it starts to lose its power due to its forced repetitions and fear of musical downturns and nonlinear structure.
Remember that the best action films are the ones that know how to pace the action rather than the ones that blindside you from the opening to the closing credits. Same goes with music. Closing their set with hellbent intent on splitting everyones ear drums and sonically smashing the optics behind the bar, Impaled Existence apparently have no intentions of reinventing their sound anytime soon, but who gives a fuck, I still enjoyed it.