LIVE FROM THE PIT: Fucked Up and Fast Blood

There’s something great about a reasonably sized punk venue, the intimacy and

cosiness of it all makes you feel as if you’re doing your bit to support the local scene

by doing no more than just entering the place. Naturally it felt fitting to see

Newcastle’s own punk quartet Fast Blood open up in support of Toronto hardcore

legends Fucked Up for a night of perfectly-orchestrated chaotic energy, however as

the night progressed, the cracks did start to appear both on stage and in the mix for

both bands.

Fast Blood’s most recent project, Sunny Blunts can only be described as the audial

version of a massive punch square in the face, therefore it felt fitting to have the

group open so suddenly and aggressively as they did Usually it’s a very bold play to

start off your show with no intro and just to dive straight on into it but for Fast Blood,

this bold play ended up paying off. It’s never easy being the first act on but with

music so rapid and intense, they did a damn good job at setting the pace for the

night within the first few songs.

Despite this, ultimately it wasn’t enough to cover up the group's shortcomings of the

night. After announcing that they were still feeling pretty rough after a heavy night on

the town the night before, it all became clear just how shattered they really were. In

areas of Gone for Good and Pulling Teeth the vocals came up a little flat which

naturally began to trickle down to the instrumentals as they began to sound almost

naked as they were missing the extra bit of grit from the vocals. It suddenly became

clear that this energy was pulled out as more of a last-ditch effort to push through the

final show rather than to rile up the crowd.

Despite making note of how surprising the amount of energy from opening act Fast

blood was straight from the go, they couldn’t hold a candle to Toronto Natives

Fucked Up due to the theatrics of vocalist Damien Abraham. The defining factor of

what makes a good frontman in a hardcore band is their ability to essentially control

the crowd; there are countless frontmen and women in hardcore groups who’ve been

gifted with the superpower that allows them to switch into the superhuman version of

themselves but what separates Abraham from the rest is how when he steps on

stage, he almost becomes possessed by his microphone. As each song starts, you

can see him stare at his microphone with a look of horror and helplessness as if it

beckons him closer until it consumes him like an evil spirit and he lets out a set of

absolutely walloping bellows for the next 2-3 minutes. Abraham doesn’t make music

in Fucked Up, Fucked Up makes Damien Abraham and man is it a spectacle to see

live. From throwing and catching his mic like a lasso, wrapping the cable around his

face and even performing with water battles stuck to his face to look like some form

of weird, recycled gas mask. It’s very evident that Abraham loves his job.

While Abraham does an excellent job of getting the blood pumping, unfortunately it

was pretty much the only stellar part of the night as in terms of sound, the concert

was a muddy, unintelligible mess. Don’t be mistaken it had its moments, Bassist

Sandy Miranda had an amazing tone which cut through the monitors incredibly as

well as guitarist Mike Haliechuk who had an amazing solo to round off the show but

other than that, it was impossible to distinguish anything else throughout the entire

night. Aside from Abrahams little speeches in-between songs, roughly 3 lyrics in total

were actually intelligible that night which is fine for a die-hard fan, but for someone

who discovered them that night, they aren’t going to have a clue what songs they

actually heard if they want to listen to them again.

Ultimately, it was a night of ill health and muddy audio quality for Fucked Up and

Fast Blood, between the raging hangovers and borderline unintelligible audio quality

it’s easy to argue that these bands aren’t worth it, however the personalities of both

groups make it so that even despite the flaws, you never really focus on them. The

moment that vocalist Abigail Barlow lets out a scream or that Damien Abraham

sticks another bottle to his face or pours it all over himself, it suddenly all fades away.

You’re simply left in awe at the spectacle of it all.

Words- Alex Walden

Photos- Adam Lang