Hippie Death Cult and Ironrat – LIVE
Hippie Death Cult and Ironrat
Northern Quarter, Wood Street, Huddersfield
18/05/25
Review by Dark Juan
Rating: Fucking awesome gig with totally unnecessary drum solo that was somehow still kind of groovy.
It has been quite the weekend over in West Yorkshire. It was the Eurovision Song Contest final on Saturday night, and it is a tradition in Dark Juan’s household that we place upon his head a very silly hat, buy one’s own bodyweight in beer and revel in the undoubted, otherwordly insanity of four hours of Europeans (and bizarrely, Israelis, for a European contest although the Aussies sometimes get a look in too) singing the most outlandish nonsense with stage sets that could rival either Prisoner: Cell Block H for their flimsiness, or JJ Abrams era Star Trek films for their futuristic shininess. Dark Juan normally gets absolutely tanked, and this time was no different, as I woke up at 3am in considerable pain on the sofa because A) I am now a grizzled old fart and could be charitably called an elder, and B) had been battered into a deeply uncomfortable Z- shape by the Smellhounds. Mrs Dark Juan had sensibly retired to bed some time earlier.
Anyway, Austria won, and Dark Juan was quite cross because it was some small man caterwauling absolutely awful shite.
This led to some debate the next day about whether Dark Juan was in any fit sate to do anything, especially as he had spent the day removing crap from Crow Cottage in a vague effort to prove somewhat useful, and to abate the inevitable hangover. Anyway, it was decided that Mrs Dark Juan and I would do the rarest of things and venture out. I don’t really like people, you see. They tend to be noisy and unpredictable. Nevertheless, our good friend Gordon is the drummer in Ironrat and I had promised him that at least Dark Juan would be there to support him. It helps that Ironrat are a very, very sexy band and their grooviness is assured. You can also be assured that they are heavier than a Soviet all-female hammer throwing and weightlifting team who have been force fed steroids and beef and have names like Svetlana and Olga.
It also helped that Ironrat had landed a peach of a support slot, being as they were playing with Portland, Oregon’s Hippie Death Cult. Their muscular Psychedelic Stoner Doom is simply to die for and to have one of the USA’s finest bands (in Dark Juan’s rather less than humble opinion) so close to home, with my mates supporting them, made it a bit of a fucking no-brainer, so off we trotted to the Northern Quarter. And promptly saw Gordon having a pint in the corner, so off we went to chat to him. Needless to say, Dark Juan immediately collared Stu, the bassist, and relieved him of a t-shirt, because we support our local metal bands around these parts. The Northern Quarter is a decent boozer as well. Flensburger Pils on tap.
Excellent.
Ironrat
To the music! First to take the stage was Bradford bruisers Ironrat, whose beefy, chunky Doom Metal has met with Dark Juan’s approval on record already, and live, they absolutely kicked the arse of the poor sods who had the misfortune to stand close to them. They have a fucking GIANT of a frontman in Martin Wiseman, in more ways than one. As well as being a man who clearly is one step away from being recruited by the Blood Angels as a Space Marine, he’s a perfect focal point for the band, large, imposing, a swirling mass of tattoos, beard, dreadlocks and Gibson Flying V guitars, and possessed of a gravelly, bluesy voice that is the perfect foil for the granite-like, mountainous Doom Metal they play. They are the sound of an approaching and extremely dangerous avalanche. They do not play music. They crush you under endless, colossally heavy grooves. And they aren’t stopping until you are LIQUID. Gordon Wilkinson hits the drums harder than Dark Juan hits the booze on a Friday night, a percussive whirlwind that destabilized tectonic plates, and Stuart’s bass work is thunderous and punishing and never less than lethal. As is the guitar work of Wayne Hustler, a man who is possessed of one of the finest Metal names there has ever been, whose riffs are bigger than a Gerald Ford-class aircraft carrier and considerably more dangerous. These good Yorkshire lads know how to put on a show – real highlights of their too-short but immensely satisfying set were ‘Weed Machine’, which is about exactly what you think it is, and a real crowd pleaser in ‘Wasted’, a Doom Metal anthem about the futility of the regular 9-5 that most of us endure. Although Dark Juan has just started doing 9-5s after ten years of 48-hour duty periods and missing out on all the good stuff, and is currently quite fond of it. All in all, Ironrat fucking killed it. Simply magnificent band and you should all immediately go and buy their records and merch and tell them Dark Juan sent you. Monstrous. Just monstrous. And all absolutely bloody fine chaps to boot. I’m proud to call them friends.
https://www.facebook.com/ironrattheband
Hippie Death Cult
Next up is the main attraction, and a band that Dark Juan has loved for years, and that is Hippie Death Cult. It was with considerable anticipation that I stood centre-stage ready for their bluesy, Psychedelic, swooping Stoner Doom. Mrs Dark Juan had disappeared some minutes previously and then popped up stage-right having found Yan, the lead singer of Oakenthrone, also here to support Ironrat, and our other good friend Stoy, who we haven’t seen for a very long time and just appeared next to her. The intro tape began, and then the band crashed into (consults set list very kindly given to Dark Juan by vocalist and bassist Laura) ‘Arise’, and it was fuzzy, soupy, acid-dripping electric alchemy on stage. The bass was the dominant instrument here. It was the lynchpin, the foundation of the sound of Hippie Death Cult, the fount from which all wisdom, and fucking killer riffs are emitted from. It growled and prowled and roared and crashed around you in an all-encompassing blast of low-end heaviness. Eddie Brnabic’s guitar is an able foil for the strum-und-drang of the bass, however, counterpointing the thunderousness with sharp and serrated licks and fills and monster riffs, all played with a dreamy Psychedelic edge, or a bluesy sensibility that adds to the overall hallucinogenic ambience of the band (Mrs Dark Juan called it noodling, but I told her that it was exploration of musical themes and ideas and an expostulation of creativity. She then laughed at me, called me a rude name which I shan’t repeat here, and went to the bar. She brought me back a pint with her, and all was forgiven). One feels that Amazonian frontwoman Laura might well have been taken somewhat by surprise by the innate, rough politeness of Yorkshire folk as she invited us cordially to all come a bit closer to the stage, as we had maintained a respectful three-foot gap between the stage and the crowd after concluding the first song. It was a Sunday, and perhaps there were a few sore heads. Naturally, we all grumbled and shuffled a couple of feet closer for the next song. Which was a fine, if somewhat meandering affair. However, it held interest, and Dark Juan really digs extended Psychedelic breaks. Real highlights of the set were absolutely stonking versions of ‘Red Giant’ and Dark Juan’s favourite Hippie Death Cult tune, ‘Toxic Annihilator’. The rendition Hippie Death Cult played on this night was just staggering. Tighter than an armada of duck’s arses and more powerful than a fart after a vindaloo, Hippie Death Cult took the tune and wrung every single last iota of life from it – Harry Silvers on the drums beating them half to death and Eddie Brnabic peeling out riff after riff, solo after glorious solo.
Then there was a drum solo. Quite a long drum solo. Dark Juan stood there somewhat bemused, Eddie sat down for a bit and Laura left the stage, presumably to visit the lavatory. Mrs Dark Juan vanished, and Dark Juan wondered if we were going to have a repeat of when we went to see Paradise Lost in York and she had got bored, wandered off to find some chips, and then tagged herself onto the back of a ghost walk. However, it appeared that she had gone to replenish the beer. For which I was most grateful.
Hippie Death Cult finished what was a jolly fine evening of entertainment with a splendid, Death Culted version of the Sabbath classic, ‘Fairies Wear Boots’, and then it was all over. The joy had left the stage, and we were back in the mundane, grey world, on a grim back street in Huddersfield instead of the rainbow-tinged nebulae of Psychedelic Doom surging over us in waves of serotonin flooding magnificence. However, they are splendid people and once Dark Juan had made himself known to them, were pleased to make my acquaintance, as for some unaccountable reason, they have read my previous words on their releases. I tried to buy their merch too, but the card reader stopped working, to the eternal gratefulness of the Dark Juan bank balance. I shall rectify this soon. Anyway, many hugs were exchanged twixt band and Dark Juan and photos taken with uncomfortable looking Oregonian people before Mrs Dark Juan and I exited outside, where we came across Martin and Gordon and discussed the fact that we are all tremendously Metal, yet we all have shit small dogs.
On that note, we went home.
Oh, and Dark Juan warned Hippie Death Cult what people from Bristol sound like, seeing as they were heading there next. Alright, my lover…
https://www.facebook.com/hippiedeathcultband
Ironrat are:
Gordon Wilkinson – Drums
Wayne Hustler – Guitar
Martin Wiseman – Vocals and guitar
Stuart Hillman – Bass
Hippie Death Cult are:
Laura Philips – Bass and vocals
Eddie Brnabic – Guitar
Harry Silvers – Drums
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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.
