13/03/2008
Gallows
The 100 Club
5th March 2008
Some would say that the spirit of Punk died in 77 only to be taken over by second rate bands drudging sound-out without the ethos and attitude of their predecessors. I guess that’s kind of true. I mean, the Sex Pistols were so fresh and exciting when they kicked-off, that people were literally Cumming in their pants (possibly), and they’ll probably say that the magic of 76 will never be repeated. Sure, that’s sorta true; the whole collective attitude of Punk will never reach the dizzy heights of that bygone age. But we can still take solace and huge relief in the fact that Blink 1-8-fucking-2 aren’t the only ‘so called’ Punk band around. For Gallows are just about keeping the spirit of Punk alive, baby, and they’re doing it mighty well.
You only have to look at Gallows to realise that each member has his own sense of style; a certain ‘je ne sais quoi’ that sets him apart from his peers; a certain panache, if you were. I mean, sure, Gallows don’t exactly dress with safety pinned trousers, pink winkle-pickers and torn and frayed tees, but they’re definitely Punk. I mean, the whole point of Punk is that you and you alone are an individual in the way you dress and act and look but share a certain ethos, attitude or interest with the rest of the Punk fraternity. This ethos and attitude is clear in Gallows performance and a huge reason for their failure to disappoint at London’s historic 100 Club.
The Watford lads’ performance is as wrought with energy as a night in the sack with Arnold Schwarzenegger, the guv’nor dripping hot wax on your back, shafting you up the arse and calling you his “bitch”. A choice metaphor when you consider that Gallows are a hardcore Punk band. You may think that means thrashing guitars and drums blending together like some schizoid brain-fuck, but you’d be wrong. It’s accessible hardcore and, like an onion, it has multiple layers of attitude: Intelligence, rhythm, dare I say it… Soul?
Frank Carter, as I’m sure anyone with a knowledge of Gallows will testify, gives a raucous, full-throttle performance. As Brian May would say (seriously check out his blog), when Frank is performing “you can almost touch him… eat him… delicious!” I guess the wee fella’s kind of akin to Johnny Rotten, and not just because of the ginger bonce. No, both break the boundaries between artist and audience, interacting on a level rarely seen in live performance. Exposing his tattooed frame, Frank swings from the light fittings, spits, crouches, and leers in the face of the baying crowd.
The whole performance is flawless and even ‘ol general of grime Lethal Bizzle shines as he collaborates on ‘Staring at the Rude Bois’. Despite having a beefy entourage who appear to be preventing a Bizzle attack from the masses, the ‘rude boy’ still took time to crowd-surf; both highly amusing and in-keeping with Gallows band meeting audience philosophy.
Have Gallows brought Punk crashing into the new millennia? Planet Notion says yes, and anyway, they shit all over Blink 182. Who called them Punk anyway; fucking ponces!
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