ORPHANED LAND
UNDERWORLD, LONDON
Israel’s metal peacekeepers raise spirits and hackles
angry. He’s angry because his voice is beginning to creak after successive nights on the road; he’s angry because his microphone is cutting out; and he’s angry because, well, he’s got every right to be angry. He’s angry at the state of the world, about “governments and humanity” and all that stuff. “I threw away my Jesus outfit,” he snarls. “Fuck that!”
Orphaned Land’s new album, Prophets & Dead Messiahs, is also angry, a state-of-the-union address for those troubled by the torpor of celebrity culture and the ineffectiveness of our leaders. But as the eerie strains of album opener The Cave drifts through the venue, it’s clear this isn’t going to be an evening dominated by lecture and recrimination. Instead, it’s a vivid, wildly uplifting set that’s as celebratory as it is inclusive. Occasionally the Eastern-influenced sections glide towards the novelty end of Eurovision, but We Do Not Resist is a triumphant call to arms, The Kiss Of Babylon (The Sins) is an exotic, multiheaded beast of a song, while Let The Truce Be Known kicks like a raging mule, thumping and grinding its way towards Nirvana. And although Kobi’s vocals are beginning to creak around the edges, the rest of the band play with machine-tooled precision and the audience are on hand to assist. They’re encouraged to provide the backing vocals throughout, and on the closing Norra El Norra (Entering
The Ark) they’re as much a part of the performance as the band. It’s epic. Somebody needs to buy this band an orchestra. And a choir. And a much bigger boat.