WILL HAVEN

CONJURER 229 THE VENUE, LONDON

To ratchet up the buzz already engulfing

CONJURER, bassist Connor Marshall windmills for eternity to a storm of tense, explosive, post-metal-inflected aural bullets. This is the intro you’d expect from the UK’s hottest newcomers after last year’s defiant, genre-splintering Mire and the energy doesn’t let up, scraping the sea bed of sludge and post-metal with Dan Nightingale’s bulldozing vocals, leaving a visceral imprint that lingers as WILL HAVEN take up the mantle. There’s something solidifying about watching the Sacramento old guard tonight; recent material from Muerte echoes the garage aesthetics of El Diablo, the exploding riffs of Carpe Diem and the ambience of Voir Dire. And the band feel it, attacking every groove and dense tone with invigorating confidence. Present day slab The Son is an atmospheric awakening but the crowd’s approval is heightened during familiar cuts Dolph Lundgren, Ego’s Game and Fresno. As a subtle reminder of those embryonic garage days, guitarist Jeff Irwin mounts the merch table for the final merciless strains of Saga, while Grady Avenell and the rest of the band add the finishing touches to their bleak, blistering show.