Gig Review, Pt. 2: – The New Dead Festival XII, 15.04.23 @ Lion Arts, Adelaide.
Originally posted on our sadly as-of-NYE-2024-dead-AF previous website. RIP. Today’s article is a review of the also-sadly-defunct New Dead Festival in Adelaide, Australia on the 15th of April in 2023.
See here for link to Part 1, re-uploaded to our snazzy new site @ innerstrengthcheckpodcast.com!
Words: Brady.
Pics by:
Jason Vidic (Vidic Images) and Samuel Phillips (Samuel Phillips Photography).
Go check those guys out, they do great photography!
RIP NEW DEAD.
Without further ado, let’s launch straight into the remainder.
And what better way to stoke the flames of the early evening, than a ripping evisceration by esteemed Sydney thrashers Flaming Wreckage?!
Nullifying any collective exhaustion that wafting into the ambience of Lion Arts, a selection of OG-thrasher cuts such as ‘Sin Survivors’ off most recent barn-burner opus Cathedral of Bones whips necks into motion from back to front.
The fierce combination of unrelenting palm-muted chuggery, wildly lofty duel leads, sharp vocal attacks and an uncompromising rhythm section produces a great combo of technicality and groove.
As with fellow lineup-thrashers Remission, the ambidextrous requirements of being a dual vocalist-guitarist as a fronting member is pulled off to great effect. By the conclusion of this set, the pit has gone from simmering to boiling over. Seems we’ve got ourselves a second wind!
It’s at this stage, six hours into almost non-stop standing, headbanging, fist-pumping and the odd moshpit action, that my unfit cardiovascular system is wheezing, buckling and straining.
There’s some nebulous force in the atmosphere of this place that seems unyielding to such demands. The kinetic potential within the crowd is bordering on electric, a steady stream of fresh-faced punters helping laggards like myself to press on and pay our metal homage.
Pic credit: Me and my smartphone lol. Kilat in action!
Speaking of homage – Massive respects first and foremost to the Welcome To Country performed by Karina Utomo of fiendish black metal trio KILAT.
Great to see some recognition for the Kaurna and Narrm lands and First Nations peoples from which the band emanate, as well as where we found ourselves today.
Dressed in simple black, transmuting that energetic fervour from High Tension into a something more subdued but highly expressive and theatrical, the vocalists’ performance mirrors Lumen Ad Mortem for one of the more enigmatic, interesting stage shows of the day.
Which isn’t today it was all for show, no. KILAT blistered through an unrepentant stream of piercing black metal, fused with moments sludgy doom, grinding hardcore and an intensity so high that most audience members were transfixed with reverence.
After all, trying to keep one’s neck up with the sheer speed of the veritable tsunami of warp-speed blast-beats and riffage proved honestly a difficult task.
Juxtaposing this sea of brutal noise with all manner of harsh screams, howls, barks and whispers, the vocal push-pull felt akin to a shrouded, clawed hand emerging from the din.
Like several other acts on the day, such titanic output from a band of fewer members is entreated with respectful applause, and shouts of appreciation from a crowd that honestly seemed awestruck.
As if things haven’t spread out into a heterogenous enough buffet of all things fast and heavy today – watch out, we’re about to get real experimental with it.
Very little time is wasted following the intense, brutally-moribund set before we cop the opening refrains of explosive envelope-pushers Alarum, back on the main stage. Can not miss this!
Weaving through their trademark catacombs of jazz-infused technical progressive death metal, there’s a charcuterie of offers old and new today. From evident crowd-fave ‘Velocity’ to equally well-received Circle’s End numbers such as ‘Sphere of Influence’, the prog veterans sweep effortlessly through complex but clean, jazzy passages, effects-drenched interludes, blistering neoclassical shred flair and lock-steady riffing.
And not without fun and self-deprecation, either. Allegedly, Katy Perry’s onstage, and not only is she announcing her presence to ‘a bit of beach, a bit of jazz’ – the newly bearded, Slasher-shirt-sporting pop sensation also reminds us that hey, ‘If you’re here expecting black metal right now, you’re missing out!’
Who needs black metal when we have… Green Metal!
The banter flowed thick and fast, and more than a few times a number cheeky grins and heckles crossed both sides of the barrier.
Side note, as a bassist, what’s also comical to me (in terms of skill I don’t possess) is exactly how hard bassist-vocalist Mark is punching away at his six-stringer. Darting around equally flexible drum-work, there’s some serious slap and chords in there amongst those distinct vocal refrains.
As for crowd participation, well, a band as steadfast as theirs in namesake and reputation obviously garners a huge response from a head-twisted crowd throughout and on conclusion of a massive set.
As if deliberately melding the ethos and atmosphere of the past two acts, mind-melting South Australian dissonant/experimental death metal trio Altars offer us an alchemical concoction on the small stage, one which bridges both technicality, creativity, heaviness and solemnity.
Hunched over the mic stand with a sizeable bass presence, the conscientious frontman remains semi-occluded through the set by a wreath of hair. He’s not any less imposing for it, with sneering growls and screeches above the low-end din. These hellish rasps are complemented by craggy cliffs of steep arpeggios, disquieting chords, punitive riffing and bombastic drumwork.
Hails in particular to drummer Alan Cadman, who, like previous times I’d caught the band at various Brisbane and Melbourne shows over the years was able to deliver his apt framework over barely-restrained musical chaos.
As with the guitar and bass, there’s all manner of clever fills and rhythmic trickery, whilst keeping those barely-controlled forays into blastbeat territory with confidence. A fitting final live performance with the band after many loyal years.
In terms of crowd response, there’s an interesting mix of headbang-and-horns applause and introspective, appreciative stillness. The power-trio’s masterful ownership of technical chaos definitely kept me in thrall.
Whirling around with agile fever, the caustic barks of the hooded frontman are met with bandmates equally attentive to consistent motion.
It’s off-putting, almost sickeningly so, to be half squinting into intermittent blackness, your occipital lobe begging to play catch-up to the auditory data. Which is processed as a steady stream of sincere, jagged hardcore with an even sharper black metal bent.
I really cannot understate just how much energy is output by this band. It’s honestly an intimidating presence, a furiously unwavering commitment to layer punk rock energy atop the blackened miasma of cuts spanning Aeternum and beyond.
Confusion and bewilderment speckles the cheers and hollers of punters, many of whom quite literally dazzled by strobelit performance. It feels equal parts artful and powerful, and the audience reaction matches this.
And what a traversal from this very postmodern interpretation of heavy music, straight back over to the smaller stage where the proud metal-patriotism of occultic blackened thrashers Denouncement Pyre swing the pendulum straight to a heyday aesthetic.
Sporting leather jackets, gauntlets, uncompromising speed and get-fucked attitude, the war-metal blood spat out by this vitriolic four-piece is one of the faster sets of the day. And in a monster day jam-packed mostly with extreme metal, I think that speaks for itself.
Literally nothing is implied or left to the imagination here. We’re veritably shredded apart by riffs so fast, they sound at risk of tearing holes in space-time fabric around the small stage.
The misanthropic venom of ‘Deathless Dreaming’, ‘The Liberating Fires of Moloch’ and other unforgiving salvos feel less of a gallop and more of a stampede.
Speaking of which… the pit erupts into its’ own stampede quickly, minions from the pit blood-drunk in obedience to the frontman’s jeering and prodding to get moving – ‘let’s fucking go, motherfuckers!‘
This absolute rager of a set did huge work in whipping punters wide awake, wild-eyed and heartily refreshed for our next musical ritual. Not an easy feat this late in proceedings, but one Denouncement manage well.
Speaking of rituals, I feel like I’ve been given inclusion into some extra-special spectacle for the next big-stage act. Having the opportunity to catch Brisbane underground death metal pioneers Misery in the flesh is a treat I never thought of myself experiencing, but boy I’m glad for it.
These scene juggernaughts brandish an experienced mix of looming death-doom, traditional extreme metal power. Harnessing the riff from a place of genuine old-school expertise allows them to effortlessly peddle both tomb-like crawls and fiendish speed with ease.
A tall, imposing frontman holding his bass almost vertically, demanding his hard-of-hearing ears catch some true voluminous appreciation of today’s acts (‘I’m a deaf motherfucker, let me hear ya!’).
‘Morbid Dreams’, ‘Godspeak’, ‘Inverted Prophet’ and numerous other sacred classics are belted out with that relentless interplay of doominess and visceral bludgeoning, and the pit absolutely responds in kind.
My jelly-legs are rolled around the kelp-sea of the pit, keenly moshing as I’m now unable to ignore my impulses.
To have such a raucous response this late in the day is testament to how timeless these vanguards have become in our national unconscious.
Setting aside Australian-facing sentiments, Japanese goregrinders of equal veterancy, Butcher ABC, fling us down into an absolute basement of debaucherous fun.
‘We are Butcher ABC from Japan, and we’re all going to party!’
Sporting oddities such as a coolly grotesque Happy Birthday flag, butchers’ aprons and even a frontman/green-neon-stringed-bassist using a gasmask as a mic, the shtick is immediate and it’s real.
‘Thank you Australia! Now, bring me a beer!’ taunts one of the dual-guitarist riff-meisters, the band honing in on an endless rip-roar of gore-soaked riffs interspersed with flashy leads, fills and down-tempo changes.
Like a Nippon version of The Day Everything Became Nothing (albeit with more blasting!), amicable grooves square up in chunky portions against guttural screams, belches and growls. All wrapped up in a rhythmic cacophony that is deceptively tight. The crowd (self included) eats this meaty spatter up track after track, the pit now cranked into top gear and totally disinhibited.
At one stage relenting into what feels like a stoner-metal instrumental, multiple bluesy solos and stripped-back meandering fools none of us, as we rage some more on final brief grind-blasts to a rowdy applause.
Simultaneous weariness and adrenaline-addled excitement grips me. I’m practically begging for reprieve but feel completely amped at the same time.
Having caught Brisbane brutal slamming death metal fiends Disentomb multiple times live, and also now across multiple states, I felt a final expectant rush of keen anticipation wash over me.
With the frontmans’ side-to-side grin and call for horns (eagerly reciprocated!), not one millisecond is wasted on stillness by band, audience or soundwaves alike. A fitting conclusion to a furious day.
Acknowledging the lateness of the day, the relentlessly ground-pounding frontman nonetheless validates our tiredness but calls for multiple circle pits. The request is fulfilled instantly.
‘Cystic Secretions’, ‘Collapsing Skies’, ‘Vultures Descend’- it’s a career-spanning barrage of relentless breakdowns, intricate riffs, creatively punishing rhythm-section and subsonic vocal booms which feel all but inhuman.
We’ve got circle pits, we’ve got people rowing on the dang ground like they’re at Amon Amarth, we’ve got jelly-legged souls like myself feebly packed up the front.
As the final notes rain death metal Hell upon us, there’s a collective exhalation of applause, relief and gratitude.
What a day. What an absolute monster of a day.
Truly, New Dead is something too precious to let slip away.
I hope that we can maintain such a consistent, high-calibre, stamina-testing festival into future years, ’cause boy howdy does Australia need more of this.
Once more – thanks so much to Jason North for coordinating all of this so tirelessly.
Thanks so much to the crew, staff, punters and bands.
And thank all of you who live to keep the spirit of live music aflame in Australia.