A short line-up on this evening, with only two bands playing, the mighty Crowbar supported by boys from Bathgate Warhead. The doors were advertised on social media as opening between six and seven p.m. which at arrival at the venue turned out to be eight thirty. Time enough to grab a burger and lollygag in apprehension of the show.
The show. Supporting act Warhead played a solid selection of songs, however the stage bantz was more like a pity party hybridized with a benevolent sales pitch. A conference with a meaty soundtrack their music was good, technical and really needed no compensatory grovelling to be emotionally engaging. Instead though the crowd were welcomed to a second rate Jo Brand type comedy routine of self-deprecation and self-righteousness that wasn’t very funny or fitting. Good heavy tunes though from Oor Shite [Warhead, the band were called Warhead and not Oor Shite I’m assured – Ed]
The crowd could have been left begging for the show to be getting on with but Crowbar in their namesake are not ones for fucking around. As the lights came on and the band met the stage the room couldn’t have been more psyched. The energy was ripe and the band were surprisingly ready to rock. As Kirk Windstein (The Riffmaster of Crowbar) stated himself, they had just wound up a US tour supporting Suicidal Tendencies without much of a break getting over here to entertain us Brits (UK tour, get over it.)
Crowbar know how to manage a tight space. The NOLA troupe could make a power chord on an air guitar sound heavy and motivational but the guys showed their generous attitude with their playing. Expressing both love and attitude without hesitation while giving a relatively small show their all to define this as something all bands should aspire to.
New stuff mixed with Crowbar classics were both whipping a storm of hair particles through the fog of war. War tastes like vanilla it seems but sounds like a party in the skies, as the room doubled into itself while accommodating the raw and incendiary sound of the bands frettening cries. Crowbar command respect, they don’t demand it, and as Kirk rallied the crowd syncopated chills could be felt from the blasts of sonic bliss that these legends provide.