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First in the firing line are Fixit Kid and their fearsomely dirty, trashy, feedback-ridden noise. It's an all-out punk-metal-hardcore assault on the senses, with the occasional outburst of dark melody. Then, just as you think it's all fallen apart, in a wall of shrieking, howling noise, they somehow manage to rescue... well.. something from the carnage, before finally trashing mic stands and ripping apart their bass guitar and stalking off stage. A fine start. Tonight Reynolds (bloody Reynolds!) lapse into old-skool mode, but still play metal as it should be played, lurching ever deeper and building ever stronger, drifting apparently nowhere before taking us even higher than before. They drive intricately onwards, riffs almost falling in on themselves or weaving delicate patterns, only to do a complete u-turn and retrace their steps exactly. At times it seems like they're just jamming out a break, others they're crashing headfirst into a totally unexpected 7/4 groove. Both incarnations can be just as powerful, complementing the other superbly, as they keep one thread of a riff going for ages, fade to almost nothing, and then make a burst of metallic violence seem perfectly natural. Following each other's tentative lead, an insistent hitch-beat sounds almost understated until it jerks back to life ten times its original power, finally drifting into the distance on the back of one last chiming rhythm. Reynolds know that great heavy metal is forged from both muscle and intellect. Tonight they have more of both than a whole issue of Kerrang! It was in this very venue, some 18 months ago, that Ligament played their very last gig, supported then by a bunch of ne'er-do-wells called Mogwai. Now, one half of Ligament is resurrected in the guise of Part Chimp, a lurching, lumbering slab of proto-blues that wins you over through sheer persistence alone. It opens on a bout of staccato heaviosity, like Mogwai's loud bits on a thousand downers, before a mournful yell shakes you out of the groove and it all staggers to an abrupt halt. He then begins to leap precariously about the stage, like a giant trying not to crush entire cities with each step. Maybe they lack the guile to really catch fire, but some of the riffs swarm and slash like Geiger Counter or Zen Guerrilla, rumbling relentlessly on and not stopping until they hit a dirge of a carol that is rescued only when it bludgeons you into submission. So the jury remains out on Part Chimp, for the time being at least. But only the hardest of hearts would deny them a second chance. Steve |