Call Upon The Author

I turn 27 in a week or so; and recently it has become increasingly apparent that I’d getting old(er). I was beginning to come to terms with the slow, creeping onset of my thirties as the inevitability that it is, and I was beginning to make peace with the whole messy ordeal. That was until last Friday when I went to see California based band A Skylit Drive at Islington Academy. All of a sudden, I felt old. Awkwardly, uncomfortably old. I arrived at the Academy as the doors were opening, and I joined the back of the queue of hooded, tattooed, skinning jeans sporting tweens who were to make up the bulk of the crowd. I couldn’t help thinking that had this show been taking place on a school night, it would have been a lot emptier. The queues moved quickly and I was soon in the photo pit, fumbling around with my pass while a further sea of haircuts in the front row regarded me with interest. The place was already pretty packed, noisy and buzzing.
Although it may sound like I’m complaining about the crowd, I’m really not. Everyone I spoke to directly or overheard talking seemed friendly and above all giddy with excitement. The first band of the night were a Southampton act called Bury Tomorrow. They must be fairly well known on the British metalcore scene (or whatever genre it is they inhabit. I struggle to keep up) as the reaction to they got was very positive and there was a lot of singing and audience participation. A short, high energy set followed which seemed to generate a good amount of exuberance from the audience.
After a pretty speedy turn around, A Skylit Drive took the stage as the second of the support acts for the evening (with Alesana headlining). I was going into this gig pretty blind (and if it hadn’t been for the earplugs given to me by the kind and helpful security guy I could well have left deaf), but I had managed to get through two or three ASD albums earlier in the day, so I had a rough idea what to expect. What I didn’t see coming would be the six, frantic tornados which exploded across the stage to the sound of heavy, distorted guitars and manic drums. Each member hurled themselves around the stage with gusto; it was a hard job keeping track of them. Each of the three bands performing that evening seemed to follow a similar make up: A couple of guitarists, a bassist, a drummer and two vocalists (for want of better terms; a “shouty” one and a “singy” one. Again, forgive my ignorance). The mantel of “singy” vocalist for A Skylit Drive is taken up by Michael “Jag” Jagmin. When listening to the bands albums, I wasn’t sure if the “singy” parts were being performed by a man or a woman, such is the timbre of “Jag’s” voice. When he took the stage, I was still, for a few minutes at least, none the wiser. He is one of the most petite men I have ever seen; no taller than 5’5″, with about a 12″ waist and shoulder length, dead straight strawberry blond hair. He was a fascinating individual. His live voice is just as high and trebly, but also deceptively powerful; as it needs to be to compete with the loud wall of sound produced by the other musicians.
As the set thundered on, there were a few songs which I recognised. ‘Prelude to a Dream’, the opening track from their 2009 album ‘Adelphia’, came towards the end of the set and was a highlight for me, but it didn’t really matter. The band and audience seemed to feed off each other so much that it made for an incredible experience, which seemed to go beyond which songs were being played. I’ve spoken to people in the past who seem to think that metal music, and especially metal gigs are all about violence and anger; they couldn’t be further from the truth. Yes, the pit was rough as people hurled themselves into one another, but the overall vibe of the night was one of excitement and joy, plain and simple. I was genuinely disappointed when the band left the stage, a clear sign I’d enjoyed them much more than I’d expected.