Sikth: Last Show Ever at Islington Academy
Like them or not it’s hard to understate Sikth’s influence on UK metal over the last few years – bursting onto the scene in 2001 their near un-definable sound (spazcore is still my favourite term for it) draws inspiration from, but isn’t restricted by, hardcore, thrash, metalcore, jazz, punk and more. From the get go they stood out as unique and have arguably changed the course of a wide range of underground British music in the last few years, as is evident from the number of similarly styled genre-bending hardcore metal bands prowling the smaller venues of the country these days. Would we have Bring Me The Horizon? Centurion? Sylosis? 80% of the current Brighton scene? This rescheduled show was a milestone gig, marking the end of Mikee and Justin’s tenure as the double-headed vocal beast of the band, moving onto pastures new, and so it’s no surprise that it’s completely sold out. Islington’s great when a metal gig’s on, the trendy little cafés and smart pubs being saturated by a gathering cloud of messily-clad, rollie-smoking heathens of all shapes and sizes. It’s also a marker of Sikth’s range of popularity that there isn’t an overriding presence from one particular ‘group’ – metallers, scene kids, old-school punks, even a few trendy Top Shop types that look like they wouldn’t be out of place staggering about at an Oasis gig.
On to the bands. Openers Barrabus are an odd addition to the bill, not going with the screaming, frantic metal style of the rest of the night, falling somewhere between the funk shouting of Jon Spencer Blues Explosion and the ranting preaching of Ministry. Only better than Ministry, who are one of the most laughable live acts I’ve ever had the misfortune of seeing. It’s an interesting warmup, although their frontman does tread dangerously close to the irritating ‘wacky antics’ line. Cry For Silence start to fit more into the expected feel of the night, with a raucous, raw metal formula that reminds me of the vocals stylings of Lamb of God over a much more sporadic tempo. Main support The Architects are definite products of the Sikth generation, coming from the thriving Brighton metal scene that’s been steadily producing more and more fresh new acts in recent years, sporting shiny new fringes and a tenaciously cocky attitude. As a live act they’re like an artillery assault on the ears, with machine gun blast beats, ferocious breakdowns that hit the room like a mortar and enough kinetic energy to more than drag in the last few stragglers hanging at the bar. This is definitely a band to watch and catch when you can, and I’d argue that a smaller venue where the crowd can really steamroller into each other would really hammer home their furious sound (14th November, London Underworld – tick it off kiddies).
There isn’t even space to breathe by the time Architects have rolled off stage. There’s none of the usual between-band bar rush as everyone fights for a place to get that little bit nearer the front of the stage, and chants of ‘Sikth’ kick off sporadically around the venue. Taking a look around it really is rammed right to the back, sides and the overhanging balcony. Then finally, to the opening atmospherics of Bland Street Bloom and a roar from the crowd Sikth take to the stage as their current lineup for the final time. The pit movement matches the trademark sporadic riffs and waves of the music, shifting from a frantic circle to a tumultuous fight pit straight into a swaying singalong. Everywhere you look there’s people clambering on top of each to surf the pit, picking each other up to avoid trampling boots and flying all over the place. I help one guy to his feet who I swear dropped from the sky, I literally have no idea where he came from. Metal riffs, melodic choruses, acapella interludes, furious breakdowns. The set has it all with songs from the whole back catalogue.
Â
There’s a fantastic vibe in the room as the gig progresses, with not a hint of any tension or breakdown in communication. Hardly a song goes by that isn’t followed by a speech from one member of the band or another, thanking each other for the time together over the last seven years, remembering the good times and the bad, and thanking the crowd for lapping it up at every show. It’s one Mikee’s final speeches that sums it up – there’s no tension, he simply can’t give 100% to his performances anymore and needs to try something new. I wish more bands would be like that, honest with their fans about their ability and willingness to carry on. The fans at this gig at least are more than vocal in their future support of whoever will be filling the vacant vocalist shoes.
Sikth, as they have been, go out with the loudest of bangs instead of a whimper. The end of an era of the British underground? Time will tell.
Lesson learned: never go into a pit wearing your backpack. Three days after my shoulders still felt like they’d been mauled by a pair of particularly hefty gorillas.
