SUMER
VENUE TALKING HEADS, SOUTHAMPTON DATE 05/04/2018 SUPPORT DECAPOD, TEMPLES ON MARS
For the south coast’s progressive rock fans, it’s a disheartening yet all too familiar sight: an evening of experimental music from a promising young band at the Talking Heads that draws an insultingly small crowd. Tonight, the 300-capacity venue – a cornerstone of Southampton’s rock and metal scene – barely welcomes 50 people through its doors, resulting in a tiny but dedicated gathering, united in anticipation for polyrhythmic punishers Sumer.
But before this intimate concert can hit its cathartic, riff-fuelled climax, it falls to the mathematic Decapod to kick-start proceedings. The quintet’s time signatures are astounding in their off-thewall lunacy. However, their tone and arrangements are so heavily derivative of the masterful melancholia of Tool that it hinges on distracting. It’s hard not to listen to cuts like Sodium Glow – which fuses subdued vocals, swaggering guitars and dancing percussion – without yearning to be experiencing the twisted originality of Lateralus or The Pot.
After Decapod’s parade of lengthy, mid-paced tunes, the mighty melodies of Temples On Mars add an invigorating wave of rock’n’roll energy. Combining the confident pomp of metal, the pure catchiness of hard rock and the wacky eclecticism of prog, the London four-piece have a collection of anthems, thanks to their lauded self-titled debut album. The exciting guitar riff of When Gods Collide is an early highlight, providing a heavy-hitting bang that’s soon complemented by the soaring singing of So In
Love With Your Own Drug.
Despite a short set, Temples On Mars prove that their greatest strength is their ability to make progressive music that’s contained in brief, catchy snapshots.
Sumer suddenly roar into life as if from nowhere, stunning as they explode into the first of many addictive guitar- and drum-led grooves with zero fanfare. It’s a jolt of an opening that fits the tone of the rest of their 45-minute barnburner.
Boasting three guitarists and two lead singers, these British bruisers juxtapose crushing, early Mastodon-like heaviness with a sombre vocal styling reminiscent of the depressive side of Radiohead. The performance is as primal and visceral as progressive metal could ever hope to be, with frantic yet focused mania ruling the roost. It elicits an equally titanic response from the venue’s minute gathering.
Even the cleaner and more emotive avenues that Sumer find themselves exploring on End Of Sense and The Animal You Are feel like they only exist to make the next immense breakdown all the more weighty and indomitable.
Needless to say, as Pinch, Cut closes out the performance with one final, gigantic shred, it’s clear that this five-piece’s direct approach to pummelling prog is one that spellbinds.
“SUMER’S PERFORMANCE IS AS PRIMAL AND VISCERAL AS PROGRESSIVE METAL COULD EVER HOPE
TO BE.”