DEAFHEAVEN sear hearts and minds in the West Country.

THE FLEECE, BRISTOL Post-black kingpins unleash a sonic hurricane across the West Country

THIRTy yEaRS agO, bands like Deafheaven would have been burned down quicker than any 1,000-year-old church for bringing mainstream ideas into black metal.

It’s a pill many seem to have trouble swallowing nowadays – but not for tonight’s crowd who’ve only gone and sold out The Fleece on this particularly chilly Sunday evening.

Within the first few minutes of INTER aRMa laying down their comfortably numb prog-gaze, everyone stares off into the soft blue haze of the stage, letting their minds wander. Playing straight into the Virginians’ hands, riff by riff, layer on layer, the tension builds that gradually puts the venue’s foundations to the test. By the time anyone’s realised what the hell is going on, the levee breaks as a wave of doomridden blackgaze engulfs all. Every square inch of sound is dedicated to brewing pure liquid despair in a ritualistic display of metal that uses the genre to its fullest capacity.

Just as our brains begin to restructure, the damage is already done, leaving the room breathless.

Packed in tighter than a school of sweaty sardines at an all-you-can-drink brine party, dEaFHEaVEN certainly have their work cut out, but meet the challenge head on. Getting stuck into their breed of post-black metal, the five-piece smash open Honeycomb with enough force to obliterate the scepticism from any more kvlt members of the audience. On an emotional level, very few bands have mastered their dynamics with such elevating intent.

Though the intensity is nowhere near as concentrated as the support, their melodic colouration is on point, giving George Clarke’s vocals a piercing weight and balance that he delivers passionately as the sweat pours off of him.

They keep things fresh with a setlist centred around their latest album, Ordinary Corrupt Human Love. The record has found its place in a live setting quite comfortably, flowing organically with the likes of fan favourites Sunbather and

Brought To The Water. Immersed in the bath of pastel lighting, their aesthetic comes off strongly, which is easy on the eyes even if it plays a little too hard on the hipster credentials. The crowd are lapping it up big time, though, and as Dream House sends the room into darkness, no one is ready to quit. It’s safe to say they can consider Bristol conquered.