Thrashatouille, Pariah and Betray The Throne
The Blind Pig, Sowerby Bridge
Review by Dark Juan
Hello, ladies, gentlemen and people of all other genders. It is I, Dark Juan, and in a tumultuous divergence of form (mainly because I am totally misanthropic and suffer considerable social anxiety), I, in the august company of Mrs Dark Juan, actually ventured out of Dark Juan Terrace on a SATYRDAY (sic) no less – this for two reasons. Firstly, The Blind Pig is a venue well known to Mrs Dark Juan and myself, because we have been friends with Julie, the absolutely delightful landlady, for many years, and because Mrs Dark Juan has made another “wonderful” creation for her to be placed in the venue. This was a giant pig’s head that Mrs Dark Juan had mounted on a baroque frame. Nothing unusual there you might think?
Oh no. Oh, no, no, no, no!
Mrs Dark Juan has somehow contrived to make the pig’s head both terrifying AND also like it has been flayed, and now it is VERY angry and hell-bent on revenge. Unsurprisingly, Mrs Dark Juan thinks it is “cute”, Julie fucking loves it and stuck it on the wall next to the performance area between bands. One might think that the baleful glare of a pissed off, flayed pig monster would wonderfully focus the performances of the bands, wouldn’t one? Thankfully, your correspondent was there to report on the proceedings.
First to pass under the critical observation of Dark Juan is Thrashatouille, the food-based Thrash Metal band (sans bassist for this gig because the real world intervened and he had to go to work) fronted by fellow Ever-Metal.com alumnus and hyperactive metal pixie™ Rob Sutton, the Pastry Chef, who was a delightful young gentleman to meet, even if there was a raised eyebrow from the cake-fucking homunculus when a large and already inebriated beardy weirdy lurched menacingly towards him to say hello. Nevertheless, the band kicked off a fine evening of metal and shenanigans with their most original blend of fast thrashing and food-based puns. Even Mrs Dark Juan, who is notoriously hard to please, was charmed by the antics of Thrashatouille and their pint-sized fizzing firebomb of a frontman within two songs, but as a baker, she was utterly horrified and disgusted by the antics described in ‘Red Velvet Romance’, where the protagonist really LOVES cake and chooses to express his love of baked treats in a… priapic fashion. Our cheerful little golem of a frontman then smeared cake upon his face whilst roaring and howling like he had an entire regiment of large and well-endowed dragoons rampaging up his chutney ferret and then a punter more pissed than Dark Juan licked it from Rob’s salty sweet face…
Not to mention the famed inflatable “DONUT!” made an appearance and a young chap in the audience came perilously close to being brained on the ceiling when surfing with it to the soundtrack being provided by ‘Maccies Monday’. All in all, a bit of a blinder of a show (as Dark Juan said in a most inebriated fashion to the band’s guitarist after the show without actually having twigged to the fact that said fine gentleman is visually impaired. This caused much hilarity and Dark Juan was thoroughly chastened but got a hug anyway) played by a band who were frankly the perfect way to start a Saturday night of Metal in a breezy and cold Yorkshire. And they won a fan in Mrs Dark Juan, which is not an easy thing to do. Top marks for a cracking set, full of giggles and moshing in equal measure.
Next up were Pariah, who it has to be said, left Dark Juan a bit cold. Their Machine Head-esque Thrashamania was perfectly acceptable, but I think the boys were on to a loser in a big way having to follow the bunch of baked goods violators before them. Pariah were a bit too serious after all the shenanigans and this was to their detriment. The rest of the crowd lapped up their speedy, aggressive Metal in an appreciative fashion though, so my being a bit disinterested could just have been me being a bit of a cockwomble and busily bothering Rob for a Thrashatouille t-shirt. Plus, Mrs Dark Juan had moved on to the Jack and cokes at this point and was requiring increasingly careful wrangling. Saying that, though, the lead singer playing an Explorer? Top marks for Metal guitar loveliness right there. Pariah were tighter than a gnat’s arse throughout their set and were perfectly approachable folks afterwards when faced with a horribly pissed Dark Juan trying to make friends with them. A pissed Dark Juan on a full-scale charm offensive is something to both behold and absolutely shit yourself at…
In short, Pariah are a very good band who play music that isn’t entirely to Dark Juan’s taste. This does not mean that they are not worthy of your attention.
Now, the headliners. Betray the fucking Throne. Not having to come to my attention before, I had no preconceptions of what they would sound like and their particular brand of sonic fury was fucking intoxicating! An absolutely brutal blend of UK Hardcore and the heaviest of Metal combine to bring you the aural experience of being trampled by a large and angry herd of socially conscious elephants chasing a bunch of neo-Nazis whilst all wired on metric fucktons of cocaine. The Blind Pig erupted! There was an instant pit formation, bodies bouncing any which fucking way and a wall of death – sad to relate, but your correspondent went down like a sack of fucking spuds on a wet patch, although the vocalist, an excellent and august gentleman, rescued Dark Juan’s hat and plonked it back on his head for him. Even Mrs Dark Juan, who is now a vastly experienced teenager, got her fighting blood up and rampaged into the pit for a bit of good old-fashioned violence and was slinging bodies all over the fucking shop.
Betray The Throne know how to play a fucking SHOW. Rampant, chest-beating aggression, power, breakdowns and beatdowns were the order of the day and their punishing, pugilistic brand of UK Hardcore Metal was just, well, fucking sublime for this mouldy old twat having ventured out for the evening. They were also fucking lovely people to chat to after. Their set was over all too fast, so two achy old farts repaired to the smoking area to go and terrorise the bands afterwards with good old Yorkshire friendliness. Having extracted a hug from the frankly terrifying (but otherwise really most charming) bass player from Betray the Throne and having told Rob and Thrashatouille they can crash at the soon-to-be-acquired Chez Dark Juan at the other end of the road from The Blind Pig (Mrs Dark Juan has warned him that she will not be accepting any baked goods from him in case he has bonked them) we retired into the rainy night and the Schwerer Gothikpanzer and home.
A fucking brilliant night!
Disclaimer: This review is solely the property of Dark Juan and Ever Metal. It is strictly forbidden to copy any part of this review, unless you have the strict permission of both parties. Failure to adhere to this will be treated as plagiarism and will be reported to the relevant authorities.