Gallows

Going to see Gallows is a damn near guarantee of a good show - the addition of two awesome support bands merely the icing - so it’s little wonder the Astoria is packed from opening. Punk / hardcore outfit Fucked Up give things a sludgy, rhythm section driven start (or was it that notoriously muddy Astoria sound system?), with massive vocalist Damian leading forcefully and spending much of the show offstage, buried at the edge of the crowd. Unfortunately he doesn’t repeat any of his antics displayed at the Barfly days earlier, the most unconventional of which involved a candle, a bodily orifice and a lighter...

Anti-Flag play with such energy and force it’s amazing to think they’ve been together for over a decade – the crowd receive them almost as enthusiastically as they do the headliners. Politics and punk can make for a cringeworthy combo but not tonight. Anti-Flag play like they’re headlining Wembley and bass player Chris (number 2), as well as looking and acting like one of the most punk rock men in punk rock, speaks inspiringly – "You’ve come with five friends but leave with 2,000". They go home with at least one new fan tonight.

Gallows, quite the veterans themselves by now, come out swinging and almost immediately the young and up-for-it audience is riled into a circle pit. Always a technically impressive band, the relentless touring and their mainstream success has no doubt taken the some of the urgency out of Gallows' performance but they do their best to maintain an edge. It’s a fascinating dance to observe; band play music usually appreciated by a limited audience, find themselves getting attention from the likes of NME and beyond, sign lucrative major label deal, then the struggle to stick to their roots ensues.

Eagle-chested vocalist Frank fully intends on having his cake and eating it. He takes every chance to slag off the NME and their awards show - where he'd performed the previous night (apparently they did it to, “support their charities”), despite the fact the very show he is headlining is a – you guessed it – an NME sponsored event.

It’s a catch 22, and one that on a larger scale everyone from Kurt Cobain to Eminem has struggled with. Still, their popularity is justified – they are riotous, heavy as fuck and they can write a cracking song too, perhaps none so much as ‘In the Belly of a Shark’ which positively explodes tonight. Lethal Bizzle rolls out for ‘Staring At the Rude Bois’ though he adds very little to proceedings.

What’s not so expected is the spectacle at the end of the show when the band have left the stage and the house lights are up. Frank can’t resist returning and grabbing the mic under the full glare, and delivering a tirade against the audience “putting bands on a pedestal”, insisting that Gallows are just hard working people like the rest of us and that we’ll “ruin a band that way”. Someone in the audience obviously expresses a differing view at that point because Frank suddenly yells something to the effect of "You wanna try me?!", throws the microphone down and leaps into the crowd to beat the shit out of said audience member. Chaos briefly erupts on stage and in the audience, where Frank is eventually dragged away and bemused punters are left shaking their heads. Is it punk? Probably not. Is it right? Definitely not. But is it real? You bet.