(((O))) Live: Kruelty – Black Heart, Camden

It’s at the point where I find myself in the middle of a roiling pit, sloshing beer over myself and others, that I remember this show was close to sell-out, and that I should really have predicted this. I was a bit absorbed with Kruelty, you see, Tokyo’s most disgusting purveyors of death/doom/hardcore violence; there’s something about the straightforward bludgeoning riffs and massive sound that has that effect on you.  

But first, a return to a less beer-soaked time: the mighty Slimelord as our openers for tonight. Such is the quality of the UK death metal underground that both of tonight’s supports are exciting, potential headlining entities in their own right. Slimelord are no stranger to London, having played here around five times this year already. But everyone still gets here early to catch their gloopy, putrid brand of doomish death metal. This is indeed where the slime live and breed.  

Playing the first few tracks from their superlative if unpronounceable debut album Chytridiomycosis Relinquished, Slimelord are immediately engaging, launching into ‘The Beckoning Bell’, flinging whammy-bar notes into the strangely coloured skies, a Leviathan belching strange incantations, the fretless bass moaning and growling. There’s only one way to move to Slimelord: head down, shoulders hunched, lurching to and fro, loosely in time to their super-slack trudging riffs, their pinch-harmonic speckled mid-tempo marching, and their frantic bursts of speed. Freed from the constraints of guitars, Andy can get right up into the crowd, foot on the monitor, providing a clear view of every retching, spewing grunt – and I’m more aware of Xander’s vocals too, this time, offering mid-range growls for contrast, as he commands bizarre riffs from his lightning-covered BC Rich. My favourite bits in Slimelord sets are those moments when, from out of the murk of a boggy landscape, a kinda catchy riff coheres, then descends further into the bog. . . and finally the riff returns slower, yes, but weirder, with John slapping, slithering octaves on the bass, and rolling toms describing ripples across the pools of alien ooze. By the time they reach the furious, frenetic epic ‘Tidal Slaughtermarsh’ to close their set – full of unpredictable twists and turns – the Black heart is heaving, setting us up very nicely for the evening. 

Celestial Sanctuary play a more traditional mode of death metal, catchy and brutal, with a well-rounded sound. You feel the riffs internally, while the leads soar upward and outward. “Swing your heads around. Do what the fuck you want!” yells Thomas at one point, and we sure do, with the pit kicking off and fists and feet whirling everywhere. The sound is all excellent tonight, meaning that we’re all immediately engaged – getting down with the groove, headbanging, fist-banging, pushing, circling. It’s difficult to pinpoint exactly what makes Celestial so good; I think it’s their drive to refine and perfect a glorious amalgamation of so much death metal that preceded them, rather than break the mould. Tracks like ‘Trapped Within the Rank Membrane’ achieve the star-gathering splendour of their name, where wild, ethereal guitar-leads coat filthy, punishing chromatic riffs. Celestial seem especially tight and energetic tonight, and – when their guitarist raises his fairy-light bespeckled Jackson into the air for the final time – it feels like we’re just getting started.  

Which is good because it all goes fucking mental when Kruelty come on – the first immense chord kicking off an unrelenting and chaotic maelstrom. It’s hardly complex music, but it all just lands so hard and heavy; it just sounds so good. Each chord sounds 3D, crisp on the outside, dense in the middle, and utterly revolting. It’s Kruelty’s third time in London and they’re very pleased to finally play Camden. From what I can gauge – it’s a bit noisy, you see – they’re proud to hold the dubious honour of being one of the few bands to play the New Cross Inn and actually sleep there! 

We’re at one of those metal x beatdown intersections, tonight, and there’s a slight tension in the crowd between moshers and flailers; those who want a push pit, and those who want to whirl their arms around, filling as much space as possible.  It’s around this point that I’m covered in beer as people run from side to side, perfectly timed to those devastating breakdowns. Tracks like ‘Profane Usurpation’ showcase all of the best bits of their sound, with brutal staccato stabs, tremulous doom riffs dragging along the floor, and D-beat/double-kick ringing inside your cranium.  

From the slime-ridden swamp, up into the skies of rotten planets, and back down to the dystopian streets of Earth, tonight was a show that will leave your ears ringing, your shirt drenched, and your body bruised.