Enter Shikari *****
Hacktivist ****1/2*
JBM *****
Hatfield Forum 26th April 2013
Sexual positions. Contortions. Perversions and aversions. Hatfield is flush with pheromones and dripping with dopamine. There's sex happening here. Some filthy. Some brutal. Some embarrassed; uncomfortable. But all heightened and horny.
JBM *****
Going ugly early. Anti-feminist, face-ironing ironic hardcore misogynist fingering. And tonguing. But in cheek. A blunt and awkward geeky fumble with the lights and black socks still on. Sex with the dregs of Jeremy Kyle guests. Deliverance style. Billy-Bob tombstone teeth n all. A confused 'comedy' vehicle with Mr Reynolds alter ego Tony G as an SG wielding riff machine. All a bit bewildering. Almost like a necrophilia or paedo joke; is it funny? Is it any good? Well, there's plenty of grunting, thrusting, phwooooars and roars. Masturbation? Nah. But it's a two bagger. Enjoyable enough at the time, but you don't want anyone else to know about it.
It kind of reminds me of watching porn in a group. Self-gratification is a dish best served for one. Not for awkwardly sharing with your mates. Even if there are about a thousand of them in your front room. The lads seem to have fun though. And Rou's not a bad guitarist.
Hacktivist ****1/2*
So, after JBM give the old chap a bit of a whack to get the blood going, it's time for some filthy undjentlemanly grimey dogging. The boudoir is packed with supplicant and willing organs and orifices. And they lap up the huge, brutal advances of Milton Keynes' molesters. If JBM were a foul fingering, then this lot are full-on fisting. With no lube. Wearing a rusty spiked gauntlet. Covered in napalm. And evil briars.
The unholiest melange of big djenty guitars and chugs with grime mesmerises and mobilises the seething room. And the brutal bullies on the stage are loving every fucking second of it. Cajoling, teasing, fondling and snarling. The brilliant new tune Elevate takes things to new, heady, horny and eye-rolling ecstasy. Then it's followed by their jizz-lake inducing cover of Nigga's in Paris which gets the Hertfordshire hordes fizzing and stiffening. Add in huge, girthy favourites like Cold Shoulders and Blades there's nothing but total, exhausted satisfaction in the ravaged room.
Hacktivist are rapidly becoming one of the UK's must see live bands. There's big noise about them. Big expectations. And on tonight's evidence they're going to take some stopping. The filthy bastards.
Sex with the same partner can lose its lustre. Trust me. And having seen the St Albans sexpots well over 20 times, I'm a little concerned, that, while always brilliant, adventurous, kinky and even just downright fucked-up, it could be the same old same old tonight. Not that that's a bad thing.
But nothing could be further from the truth. The decision to do a kind of alternative tour, taking in smaller, stranger and more connected venues is keeping things swinging. The boys have invented new positions. Discovered hitherto unknown techniques. Brought with them a fierce looking bag of unspeakable toys and titillating tinctures. And the mean business. Dirty business. Oh my.
The undies are loosened with the System/Meltdown wooing and seducing thing but there's something really special in the air tonight and the mercury is rising quicker than ever from the off. Then it just goes off its tits. Balls. Cock and front bottom. All at the same time. Swinging from the chandeliers covered in goose grease with a steel dildo shoved up the jacksie doesn't come close.
It's hadean. And makes Dante's vision look like the telly tubbies eating egg sandwiches while listening to Schubert. It's the biggest mongolian cluster fuck in history. The almost home town crowd becomes the spike heeled dom. Whipping and teasing the band into previously undiscovered levels of performance. And the lads can do nothing but respond in kind.
They are clearly taken aback too. Rou even mentioning the brilliance of the crowd. Not in that hollow platitudinous way that most bands seem to trot out, but with genuine generosity and maybe even a tad of tumescence.
The pit isn't just a pit. Its everyone. The whole crowd is a freaking, writhing, squirming mire of humanity. From the splendid venue's head to it's leaking anus. The set is constructed so cleverly to take us all on a heightened mind-altering sexual journey. Moments of sheer dirt with massive drops, subs, sphincter-fingering riffs and chest-pummelling re-mixed dancy beats to glorious exultation and almost religious fervour with Return To Energiser providing one of the very best of tonight's multiple orgamsms. There's none of the slow stuff on show tonight. It's all at top speed. Thrusting, controlling, masterful. All Eyes On The Saint is even pulled out of the anal toy cupboard and swallowed greedily by the climactic throng. Breathless. Speechless.
I'm truly struggling to find the words. There's no one in the UK to come close to this loveable, louche lot live. No one. And tonight, Enter Shikari have taken things to a whole new level. It's not just the best I've ever seen them; it's one of the very best I've ever been lucky enough to have seen - by anyone.
Spent. Aching. Dripping. Sore. Spellbound.
Here are some shady, sketchy attempts to try and capture the sheer power and downright violation of tonight. Enjoy.
But nothing could be further from the truth. The decision to do a kind of alternative tour, taking in smaller, stranger and more connected venues is keeping things swinging. The boys have invented new positions. Discovered hitherto unknown techniques. Brought with them a fierce looking bag of unspeakable toys and titillating tinctures. And the mean business. Dirty business. Oh my.
The undies are loosened with the System/Meltdown wooing and seducing thing but there's something really special in the air tonight and the mercury is rising quicker than ever from the off. Then it just goes off its tits. Balls. Cock and front bottom. All at the same time. Swinging from the chandeliers covered in goose grease with a steel dildo shoved up the jacksie doesn't come close.
They are clearly taken aback too. Rou even mentioning the brilliance of the crowd. Not in that hollow platitudinous way that most bands seem to trot out, but with genuine generosity and maybe even a tad of tumescence.
The pit isn't just a pit. Its everyone. The whole crowd is a freaking, writhing, squirming mire of humanity. From the splendid venue's head to it's leaking anus. The set is constructed so cleverly to take us all on a heightened mind-altering sexual journey. Moments of sheer dirt with massive drops, subs, sphincter-fingering riffs and chest-pummelling re-mixed dancy beats to glorious exultation and almost religious fervour with Return To Energiser providing one of the very best of tonight's multiple orgamsms. There's none of the slow stuff on show tonight. It's all at top speed. Thrusting, controlling, masterful. All Eyes On The Saint is even pulled out of the anal toy cupboard and swallowed greedily by the climactic throng. Breathless. Speechless.
I'm truly struggling to find the words. There's no one in the UK to come close to this loveable, louche lot live. No one. And tonight, Enter Shikari have taken things to a whole new level. It's not just the best I've ever seen them; it's one of the very best I've ever been lucky enough to have seen - by anyone.
Spent. Aching. Dripping. Sore. Spellbound.
Here are some shady, sketchy attempts to try and capture the sheer power and downright violation of tonight. Enjoy.
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