Music / Reviews
Review: Machine Head, O2 Academy
If one were to summarise Oakland sluggers Machine Head’s erratic recorded output in one sentence, it would go something like this: brilliant debut, disappointing follow-up, two depressing nu-metal-esque trend-chasers, partial recovery, brilliant comeback, another disappointing follow-up, welcome return to form. If you’re counting, that’s just three great albums in 20 years. Live, however, they’ve always been much more consistent, carefully cherry-picking the good songs from those duff albums and pulling the most rabidly boisterous audience this side of Slayer. And even without the media hoopla surrounding Mr. Dogg’s upcoming visit, they have no trouble selling out the Academy weeks in advance after a ten year absence.
Having decked out the stage in banners and flags like a conquering army, Robb Flynn and chums unleash the defiant Imperium and the crowd erupts into a heaving, moshing, headbanging, fist-punching mass that’s almost as entertaining to watch as the musicians on stage. One bloke even wears a Batman mask throughout and is rewarded with a swift rendition of the superhero theme tune when Flynn spots him. The epic Now We Die from new album Bloodstone & Diamonds is an early highlight. Even stripped of the strings that embellish the recorded version, this is a perfect showcase for what distinguishes Machine Head from the plague of lumpen shout’n’riff merchants: maximum heaviosity that never swamps the underlying subtlety, melody and excellent musicianship – not least from extraordinarily talented drummer Dave McLain. The brooding Darkness Within takes the pace down a notch, while Davidian is the song that even those with just a passing interest in Machine Head know, the mighty crowd roar of “Let freedom ring with a shotgun blast!” being on a par with “Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me!” Now I Lay Thee Down from The Blackening makes a surprise and welcome reappearance in the set. And just in case we’d forgotten it was panto season, Flynn takes the opportunity to do the traditional American Big Sincere Speech thing about what a great bunch of loyal oedipal persons we are. “You could have gone to see a fucking DJ pushing a button.” (Huge boo) “Instead, you came to watch four musicians.” (Massive cheer). Then it’s bellow-along time as they encore with the mighty Halo before the happy, spent, heavily perspiring and now mostly shirtless throng is disgorged into Frogmore Street, steaming gently in the cold night air.
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