Fozzy, Dead City Ruins, Heaven The Axe @ The Espy, Melbourne (13/12/2013)
Statistically speaking, 98% of everyone who says they like something from every genre is a liar (we don’t talk about the other 2%). Everyone always has that one thing they can't find the time for, be it suicidal drone metal, 1920's erotic lounge, dubtronica, or progressive dreamfunk.
For myself, I never quite found a place in my heart for Glam metal, with all its spandex and its Tommy Lee. So as I stumbled into the back room of the Espy for Glam outfit Fozzy, I was wondering if this was the night that all changed. I don't know if it did end up changing, but there's a bit more respect for the genre in me now.
The venue looks more like it should be hosting the likes of The Jesus and Mary Chain rather than an act as hyperactive Fozzy. The peeling wallpaper and moose antler chandeliers give an eerie feeling to the place, which is down a chorus of doors and corridors. The stage is puny compared to the Sidney Myer Music Bowl, which they played not a week ago as Steel Panther supports, which hard-core fanatics are ecstatic about.
The house music falls, and the crowd shuffle forward. First up was Melbournian outfit Heaven the Axe, who put on a hell of a show. Vocalist Phoebe Pinnock stomped her way across the stage with vicious intensity, barking out tales of those not fit to join her life of dragon slaying like Alanis Morissette on a kilo of PCP. Backing her up was a soundtrack of grinding ferocity created by a backdrop of guitar fuzz and barrelling drums. Heaven the Axe is definitely an act to keep on your radar for next year.
Next up was Dead City Ruins, also children of Melbourne. Compared to the acts preceding and following them, they weren’t really that notable. The riffs they used seemed like Mötley Crew tuned down to drop C, and their vocals couldn't decide if they were going for harsh or overdramatic, often falling in the middle of those two categories. On top of that, the songs seemed to drag on a minute too long, often due to guitar solos thrown in for the sake of having a solo.
After about 45 minutes of change overs, the house music fell and Fozzy made their way out. Front man Chris Jericho bounded onto the stage, jacket covered with glistening metal studs, screaming the falsetto intro to Spider in My Mouth with such power it seems to shake the crowd. He works the crowd in this way all through the night, jeering them on with chants of “Fozzy Fozzy, Fozzy, oi, oi, oi!” and crooning his way over the stage.
As the band bound around, the crowd feels the hype more and more, exploding each chorus and solo. It is a sight to behold. But, showmanship alone does not make a band, and the music must be judged. Any glam fan should find comfort in Jericho's voice, which soars as high and as intense as his contemporaries. The few points the bass was given its chance to shine through really showed off bassist skill for creating a driving riff, but sadly that was dwarfed by guitar solos that sounded as if Dragonforce had slowed themselves down and covered themselves in glitter. It's not so much that it's offence or harmful to the ear, it just sounds like it's played a bit too safe.
Ultimately, if you were looking for an experience in Fozzy, you won’t go home empty-handed. The band embraces their own cheesy nature and uses it to their advantage, with crude jokes and gang chants and such. However, if you’re looking for musicality and the like, perhaps it would be best to cast your eyes elsewhere.
Ben Spencer
For myself, I never quite found a place in my heart for Glam metal, with all its spandex and its Tommy Lee. So as I stumbled into the back room of the Espy for Glam outfit Fozzy, I was wondering if this was the night that all changed. I don't know if it did end up changing, but there's a bit more respect for the genre in me now.
The venue looks more like it should be hosting the likes of The Jesus and Mary Chain rather than an act as hyperactive Fozzy. The peeling wallpaper and moose antler chandeliers give an eerie feeling to the place, which is down a chorus of doors and corridors. The stage is puny compared to the Sidney Myer Music Bowl, which they played not a week ago as Steel Panther supports, which hard-core fanatics are ecstatic about.
The house music falls, and the crowd shuffle forward. First up was Melbournian outfit Heaven the Axe, who put on a hell of a show. Vocalist Phoebe Pinnock stomped her way across the stage with vicious intensity, barking out tales of those not fit to join her life of dragon slaying like Alanis Morissette on a kilo of PCP. Backing her up was a soundtrack of grinding ferocity created by a backdrop of guitar fuzz and barrelling drums. Heaven the Axe is definitely an act to keep on your radar for next year.
Next up was Dead City Ruins, also children of Melbourne. Compared to the acts preceding and following them, they weren’t really that notable. The riffs they used seemed like Mötley Crew tuned down to drop C, and their vocals couldn't decide if they were going for harsh or overdramatic, often falling in the middle of those two categories. On top of that, the songs seemed to drag on a minute too long, often due to guitar solos thrown in for the sake of having a solo.
After about 45 minutes of change overs, the house music fell and Fozzy made their way out. Front man Chris Jericho bounded onto the stage, jacket covered with glistening metal studs, screaming the falsetto intro to Spider in My Mouth with such power it seems to shake the crowd. He works the crowd in this way all through the night, jeering them on with chants of “Fozzy Fozzy, Fozzy, oi, oi, oi!” and crooning his way over the stage.
As the band bound around, the crowd feels the hype more and more, exploding each chorus and solo. It is a sight to behold. But, showmanship alone does not make a band, and the music must be judged. Any glam fan should find comfort in Jericho's voice, which soars as high and as intense as his contemporaries. The few points the bass was given its chance to shine through really showed off bassist skill for creating a driving riff, but sadly that was dwarfed by guitar solos that sounded as if Dragonforce had slowed themselves down and covered themselves in glitter. It's not so much that it's offence or harmful to the ear, it just sounds like it's played a bit too safe.
Ultimately, if you were looking for an experience in Fozzy, you won’t go home empty-handed. The band embraces their own cheesy nature and uses it to their advantage, with crude jokes and gang chants and such. However, if you’re looking for musicality and the like, perhaps it would be best to cast your eyes elsewhere.
Ben Spencer