MACHINE HEAD

BRIXTON ACADEMY, LONDON

Bay Area thrashers celebrate 25 years of Burn My Eyes

WHEN GUITARIST PHIL Demmel and drummer Dave Mcclain handed in their notice last year, Machine Head’s future looked bleak. Happily, there are now two line-ups based around the remaining core of Robb Flynn and bassist Jared Maceachern. One features Burn My Eyes guitarist Logan Mader and drummer Chris Kontos, reunited to play the album in full for this 25th anniversary tour, while the other is a full-time band completed by Decapitated guitarist Vogg Kiełtyka and drummer Matt Alston.

From Imperium’s ‘Hear me nowwwww!’ roar, the full-time line-up prove their worth, running through a series of greatest hits. The nostalgic likes of Take My Scars and The Burning Red sit alongside modern heavyweights Locust, Aesthetics Of Hate and

Catharsis, Vogg’s extreme metal shredding playing off Robb’s laidback grooves. Robb is the hypiest hype man, throwing out Spongebob-esque “I can’t hear youuuuu!”s, rave-like “Make some noiiiiiise!”s and many “Raise your beers in the air!”s – not to mention 1,000,001 “Motherfucker”s. There’s an atmosphere of joyful disorder, as Robb asks: “Do you feel alive, London?”

It’s a dream night for 90s diehards, but a bunch of newcomers also identify themselves when Robb asks for a show of hands. At one point, he launches into a sincere monologue, reminiscing about Brixton being the first London venue they played, supporting Slayer in 1994. He talks about Machine Head’s struggles with drugs and alcohol, how it’s the anniversary of Vogg’s brother Vitek’s death (he was killed in a bus accident in 2007, at the age of 23), and the power of music to save. During a closing

Halo, his calls for a ‘rectangle pit’, sparking carnage.

And so, to Burn My Eyes. Davidian, which Robb once hinted he might never play again, is blistering.

Chris Kontos, wearing an anniversary hockey jersey, hits his kit so hard that a roadie runs out to secure it. Logan Mader, a walking gym advert, plays and stomps furiously. Their chemistry builds and builds, and then… halfway through Death Church,

the music stops. The band keep playing, until they notice the crowd waving their arms. Frustratingly, it transpires someone’s taken Robb’s beer instructions too seriously and spilled one on the sound desk, replicating the outage during Gojira here four months ago.

After a tense, 20-minute wait, the crew manage a workaround, with the venue agreeing to push curfew and the heroic staff staying for free.

The momentum’s stalled, but the goodwill is unbelievable. With everyone behind them, Machine Head finish the record and throw in Metallica, Rage and Slayer covers, treating the fans like old mates. In the words of Imperium, love will ascend.

ELEANOR GOODMAN