SAINT VITUS AND THE GRAVIATORS
LONDON UNDERWORLD - 07/12/10
It’s hard to believe that such a massively influential band as Saint Vitus waited 20 years between UK shows before their triumphant sold out gig at The Islington Academy, as reviewed before in Metalteam just this February (http://www.metalteamuk.net/reviews10/review-stvitus.htm). Now, just 10 months later, these seminal masters of doom have again graced the shores of Britain, and sadly, yet again, just a single show as part of a far more extensive European tour, and once again, only in London. This time around, their chosen venue was London’s infamous little basement of metal and rock, Camden’s Underworld. Why had the band chosen such a small venue? I mean, the Islington show was a triumph, and The Underworld has under half the capacity of the last show. That’s a question I just can’t answer.
As it was, by the time the opening act, Sweden’s The Graviators, hit the stage, the venue was pretty much empty. Maybe other would be gig goers had more knowledge of the band then me, and had wisely decided to stay away. If I’d know their set was going to be the way it was, maybe I’d have chosen to join them. Coming on stage as if confused, frightened and stage-struck, the vocalist put down a ring binder of his lyrics stage front, and each song was introduced by nothing but its title after a nod to the guitarist, the singer seeming to be constantly lost and out of place. Whilst the bare-chested bassist enthusiastically stamped around the stage like a drunkard being tasered, and the guitarist and drummer were full of energy, the vocalist, sounding like a young Ozzy Osborne, managed to look out of his depth, and frankly scared. Yes, the first couple of songs had a couple of mike changes until he was actually heard, but he looked distinctly uncomfortable, clutching the mike stand like a shield to hide behind, and not once managing to engage the audience. As a drinking buddy so succinctly put it, “yeah, they’re like early Sabbath, but early Sabbath with no charisma.”
During the change over for Saint Vitus, two things happened: firstly, Dave Chandler came out to dedicate the show to the recently lost and much lamented Armando Acosta in a surprisingly high pitched and gentle voice; secondly, several hundred metal warriors arrived from nowhere, filling The Underworld’s basement from front to back with a sea of denim and leather. Within minutes the venue went from being a chilly and scantily populated basement to an elbow room only sweat pit, and from the second the band walked on stage, the reason was obvious. Using the same amps, the same drum kit, and playing similar progressions as the hard to remember openers, Saint Vitus showed what a massive difference skill, experience, and just plain presence brings to a performance. Wino started with his back to the audience, framed in the venue’s lone spot, commanding the stage with just a clench of his fist; Dave Chandler looked like a crazy homeless man dragged from a park, forced into a black t-shirt against his will, and then blessed by the gods with an absolute mastery of the Gibson SG; Mark Adams was a study in concentration, teasing lingering notes from his bass like the last tone from a dying man’s ECG with just an occasional peace sign to audience to even prove he was awake; whilst new drummer Vasquez displayed the heaviness and teasing lightness combination of skills that made him a natural choice for new rhythm man. Every track was a quantum leap in skill and ability above the openers. Whilst The Graviator’s vocalist seemed to clutch his mike like a shield, Wino wielded his stand like a sword, attacking the audience with his timeless lyrics and force of personality. Clearwindowpane, White Majik, Shooting Gallery; all were spat out with a passion and venom that had the audience whipped into a slow blur of pumped fists and whirling hair. Every note had its place and a purpose, that purpose being to drag the audience into the world of Vitus, slap it around, and insist on a drowsy appreciation. Chandler grimaced and gurned his way through new tracks and classics alike, variously dragging slow wails and machine guns riffs from his strings, never once looking at the neck of the guitar, snarling at the audience with his snaggle toothed grimace, a perfect foil to the “try it if you dare” stare of Wino. Hagg, Saint Vitus, and I Bleed Black; all the classics battered the grateful audience, including yours truly. They may have been on stage less then an hour and a half including encore, but every second was an exhibition of excellence.
Saint Vitus proved why they are such a huge influence on so many in this all too brief invasion of UK shores, but I still don’t know why they chose such a small venue; this is a band that deserves to play such a more massive venue. Somehow though, it suited their crushing and intimate style. In the audience were fellow fans that had travelled from as far away as Newcastle and Scotland. I can only say if Saint Vitus ever play the UK again, with a new album or without, get to the gigs; it’s one of those “tell your children” experiences!
Review by Spenny Bullen
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