(((O))) Live: Agriculture • Healing Wound – Stereo, Glasgow

It should go without saying that when a gig, or any event really, sells out, that is ultimately a good thing. Still, a sold-out show in a basement venue on a swelteringly hot summer evening does sound like the kind of thing that maybe isn’t for the faint of heart, yet here we all are and the atmosphere is so positive, so resolutely wholesome, that no-one would rather be anywhere else, sweaty pits be damned. That’s the power that Agriculture have, their euphoric and adventurous take on black metal pulling in fans of all ages, genders and tastes to witness their triumphant return to the city.

Support tonight comes from Healing Wound, a Brighton-based four-piece who only just released their debut album a few weeks ago. While that does mean that there are plenty here who might not have already checked them out, the fact that they have been given ample time to showcase its charms does bode well for future sales. Clad in an old-school Converge shirt, vocalist Harry Huntington is a walking primer for what follows, a hefty chunk of Kurt Ballou worship that brings to mind Trap Them at their most incendiary. It’s blunt, groovy and vicious, a mash-up of hardcore’s earnest intensity and the physical heft of death metal that does everything right… and then ‘Obelisk of Grief’ hits and things take a shift to the unexpected.

Healing Wound. Photo: Bruce Cowie

It’s Dudley Powell’s rattling bass that downshifts the momentum, a metallic post-punk throb that weaves its way through the stuttering brutality of Huntington’s scratchy bellows and the primal battering of Max Colley’s kit, giving it a more insidious edge that continues into ‘Flesh Ridden,’ Joey Pearson’s guitarwork slow, measured and vaguely hypnotic. While the flashes of post-punk gloom never dominate, the depth they bring to their sound is undeniable, adding texture and a sense of foreboding to a set that otherwise bristles with violence. Huntington is never not captivating, a tightly coiled spring of nervous fury that always seems right on the edge of spontaneous combustion, and between him, the tight execution from his bandmates, and just how punishing these songs are, this was straight-up brilliance.

If there’s anyone that can top that, it has to be Agriculture. You want heaviness with depth? Emotional complexity? Incredible musicianship? They make it all seem as natural as breathing. Cuts like ‘My Garden’ hit with a power that verges on the supernatural, Leah Levinson and Dan Meyer trading caustic barbs over stomping caveman riffing, frosty blast-beats and passages of jerky dissonance that sound like Meyer and six-string compatriot Richard Chowenhill are trying to derive Schrodinger’s equation with just their fingers. But then, there is also beauty here, moments of softness and light that reframe the sonic violence in more hopeful terms.

Agriculture. Photo: Bruce Cowie

There’s a massive crowd reaction when ‘Bodhidharma’ makes an appearance, perhaps one of the most unlikely bangers in black metal history. While the central riff is already verging on iconic, a hulking slab of noise rock with a splash of grunge for good measure, so much of the song comes down to Levinson’s voice, switching up savage screams with a brittle almost-whisper over nothing but Kevin Haug’s sporadic snare hits. It’s so fragile that it sounds at risk of shattering but than that riff kicks in, or Chowenhill launches into a searing solo, and the stage is once again lit up with joy and affirmation.

This seesawing between extremes is at the core of Agriculture’s appeal but on stage, they inject just as much intensity into the moments of quiet and reflection as they do the ear-splitting metal bits. ‘Hallelujah’ and ‘The Well’ both rely solely on Meyer to command the room, his intermittent strums a stark accompaniment to a voice that seems to bear the weight of the world’s sins. It’s a raw and unpolished performance but it demonstrates his considerable vocal range, earthy yet capable of audacious highs that dance like flames in the breeze. What’s even more special is that his bandmates are just as captivated by these displays as the audience are, content to stand aside and watch a friend do his thing even though they’ve seen it done a hundred times before.

Agriculture. Photos: Bruce Cowie

Finishing off with ‘Living Is Easy,’ it’s less a case of them saying “Go big or go home” than “Go big, then go even bigger because no one is going home for the foreseeable”. This is pure sonic excess, all four throwing their weight behind every riff and fake-out ending. Just when it seems like the night is coming to a close, Meyer or Chowenhill will pick up the slack and the stage will descend into glorious, noisy chaos once again, an ebb and flow that should get old but is so ecstatic that the crowd doesn’t seem to want it to end. Excess and minimalism, violence and restraint, chaos and bliss – Agriculture are all these things, and they’re a bloody great time to boot.