Review: Orange Goblin, Bierkeller

Crikey – has it really been 20 years? If memory serves, the Orange Goblin who first played in Bristol at the Fleece supporting a little combo by the name of Queens of the Stone Age were fronted by a fresh-faced, short-haired Ben Ward. Two decades of metal have transformed him into a hulking, hairy, tattooed berserker whose infectious enthusiasm is one of the reasons why his band have survived and flourished while so many have fallen. When he’s not fronting the Goblins, he’s usually to be found at gigs or even road managing acts he likes.

But first, here’s the great Gentlemans Pistols (their missing apostrophe) filling an all-too-brief support slot. Busy, versatile guitarist Bill Steer was last in town only a month or so ago with Carcass on the Deathcrusher tour. It’s testament to his remarkable talent that he can switch so effortlessly from technical death metal to ’70s-style blues rock, and his addition to the Pistols’ line-up has transformed them from enjoyable also-rans into serious contenders. Devils Advocate On Call from new album Hustler’s Row is an instant classic, welding vintage Quo-style boogie to Wishbone Ash-esque twin lead guitar so enjoyably that it makes you thirst for a Watneys Red Barrel. But as if to set the scene for tonight’s main attraction, they finish with the much heavier Some Girls Don’t Know What’s Good for Them. Be sure check ’em out at Temples next summer.

Good luck to anyone seeking a motorcycle courier when Orange Goblin are in town. Now celebrating their 20th anniversary of waiting in the wings to take over as the people’s biker metal band when Lemmy Kilmister finally succumbs to the rigours of his lifestyle, the Goblins are in their element at a reassuringly full Bierkeller with an up-for-it Friday night crowd. As anticipated, we get a career-spanning set with all our favourites. Alas, the sound does them no favours at all, at least for the first two songs, being a muddy mess from which Joe Hoare’s guitar seems to have been subtracted. Things improve with that stoner classic Saruman’s Wish and the cheeky Devil’s Whip, which is bolted together from every Motorhead song ever written (chiefly Iron Fist).

The John Carpenter-inspired The Fog, with its growled “There’s something in the fog!” refrain, has slowly wormed its way into punters’ affections and is greeted like an old pal. But just when you think they might have shot their collective wad somewhat early, along comes the anthemic Some You Win, Some You Lose to stoke the moshpit. “Are you ready to eat brains, Bristol?” demands comically lumbering Ward of a sweaty, steaming audience who are already starting to resemble extras from The Walking Dead as he introduces zombie bloodbath They Come Back, which serves to keep up the momentum.

It wouldn’t be an OG gig without Quincy the Pigboy and the thunderous Red Tide Rising, which are duly delivered during the encore. Are they the greatest band in the history of metal? Probably not. Are they the most fun one can possibly have on an inclement Friday evening in Bristol? Absolutely.