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5 mars 2012, 4h38m
Tue 28 Feb – Lamb of God, In Flames, The Black Dahlia Murder
In Flames
Eatons Hill Hotel, Brisbane
Tuesday 28 February 2012
“We’ve put out ten albums by now, so it’s hard to play everything you want,” says In Flames singer Anders Fridén near the end of their set. Ain’t that the truth. The eternal frustration for prolific bands of any genre: how to find a balance between satisfying your own interests, and those of the audience. Logic suggests that most bands would rather play their newer material – assuming they’re proud of it – rather than going through the motions by playing songs written and recorded decades ago. As a long-time fan of In Flames, I’m torn between my enjoyment of watching these five Swedish fellows power through the better tracks from last year’s Sounds Of A Playground Fading, and my desire to see them air some older rarities. I sense I’m not the only one.
Wedged between two American metal bands – opening support act The Black Dahlia Murder, and headliners Lamb Of God – In Flames certainly stick out. But they’d do that anywhere, so unique and distinctive is their style of melodic death metal. There’s a lot of respect in the room tonight: this is the band’s first non-festival performance in Brisbane in many years, so there’s hope that they’ll extend the set beyond their standard festival fare. They were allotted 40 minutes at Soundwave on Saturday, which became 30 minutes due to technical delays. Following ‘The Quiet Place’ from 2004’s Soundtrack To Your Escape, the crowd begins spontaneously baying the band’s name. “I’d love to hear you chant that for another ten minutes, but we don’t have time,” replies Fridén. Instead, he calls for crowd-surfers before a pair of newer tracks: ‘Fear Is The Weakness’ and ‘Where The Dead Ships Dwell’. (“Don’t worry, the security guards will take care of you,” the singer says. “They don’t look like us – no muscles and a lot of hair!”)
It must be strange to be a professional touring musician; travelling the world, soundchecking, stepping onto a stage and playing music for but an hour, or less. What do you do with the other 23 hours? How do you stay creatively fulfilled? Fridén himself hinted at the strangeness of this situation at Soundwave; they’d flown from Sweden to play before a few thousand people for half an hour. Dozens of bands had done the same thing that day, many of them before much smaller crowds. Watching them tonight, it’s an affirming experience: solidification of not only the reasons why we listen to music, but why we gather together to witness the same music being played by other humans. One hopes that it’s an affirming experience for the musicians, too.
Perhaps two thousand of us are crammed into a near-new function centre attached to an enormous hotel/bar/bottleshop complex, located 20 kilometres north of Brisbane City. Outside, between bands, the atmosphere of the darkened beer garden-esque area consists largely of cigarette smoke. Above the theatre is a regular bar, seemingly open to the public. Through the glass, I can see three middle-aged people sharing a bottle of wine. I wonder what the constant double-kick drumming sounds like through the floor. Around me, people – mostly men – clad in black shirts exhale smoke, inhale beer and discuss Soundwave, metal, and other important topics. The vibe is jovial. I feel I could comfortably join any conversation here, and be welcomed. At the bar, as I struggle to find change, a stranger buys me a beer on the condition that I’ll pay the favour forward some day in the future. I will.
The band are explosive. Exciting. Their 45 minutes on stage passes too quickly. I do not begrudge them devoting half of their ten-song set to their self-proclaimed “newest masterpiece”, because all of those songs are heavy and contain interesting vocal and guitar melodies. The strength of their performance affirms my love for this band, to the point where I’ll spend several hours the next morning listening to Sounds Of A Playground Fading with new ears; newfound appreciation for these songs having witnessed them in the flesh. The oldest track they play is from 2000’s Clayman (‘Only For The Weak’); it, too, encourages me to return to In Flames’ impressive catalogue. They are a complete unit: each member an essential component. No time for bullshit, jokes, or conversation: they’re here to play. These aren’t their best ten songs – deciding upon those would be a difficult task for any fan – but it’s impossible to fault In Flames tonight. The trip was worth it.
The Vine
In Flames
Eatons Hill Hotel, Brisbane
Tuesday 28 February 2012
“We’ve put out ten albums by now, so it’s hard to play everything you want,” says In Flames singer Anders Fridén near the end of their set. Ain’t that the truth. The eternal frustration for prolific bands of any genre: how to find a balance between satisfying your own interests, and those of the audience. Logic suggests that most bands would rather play their newer material – assuming they’re proud of it – rather than going through the motions by playing songs written and recorded decades ago. As a long-time fan of In Flames, I’m torn between my enjoyment of watching these five Swedish fellows power through the better tracks from last year’s Sounds Of A Playground Fading, and my desire to see them air some older rarities. I sense I’m not the only one.
Wedged between two American metal bands – opening support act The Black Dahlia Murder, and headliners Lamb Of God – In Flames certainly stick out. But they’d do that anywhere, so unique and distinctive is their style of melodic death metal. There’s a lot of respect in the room tonight: this is the band’s first non-festival performance in Brisbane in many years, so there’s hope that they’ll extend the set beyond their standard festival fare. They were allotted 40 minutes at Soundwave on Saturday, which became 30 minutes due to technical delays. Following ‘The Quiet Place’ from 2004’s Soundtrack To Your Escape, the crowd begins spontaneously baying the band’s name. “I’d love to hear you chant that for another ten minutes, but we don’t have time,” replies Fridén. Instead, he calls for crowd-surfers before a pair of newer tracks: ‘Fear Is The Weakness’ and ‘Where The Dead Ships Dwell’. (“Don’t worry, the security guards will take care of you,” the singer says. “They don’t look like us – no muscles and a lot of hair!”)
It must be strange to be a professional touring musician; travelling the world, soundchecking, stepping onto a stage and playing music for but an hour, or less. What do you do with the other 23 hours? How do you stay creatively fulfilled? Fridén himself hinted at the strangeness of this situation at Soundwave; they’d flown from Sweden to play before a few thousand people for half an hour. Dozens of bands had done the same thing that day, many of them before much smaller crowds. Watching them tonight, it’s an affirming experience: solidification of not only the reasons why we listen to music, but why we gather together to witness the same music being played by other humans. One hopes that it’s an affirming experience for the musicians, too.
Perhaps two thousand of us are crammed into a near-new function centre attached to an enormous hotel/bar/bottleshop complex, located 20 kilometres north of Brisbane City. Outside, between bands, the atmosphere of the darkened beer garden-esque area consists largely of cigarette smoke. Above the theatre is a regular bar, seemingly open to the public. Through the glass, I can see three middle-aged people sharing a bottle of wine. I wonder what the constant double-kick drumming sounds like through the floor. Around me, people – mostly men – clad in black shirts exhale smoke, inhale beer and discuss Soundwave, metal, and other important topics. The vibe is jovial. I feel I could comfortably join any conversation here, and be welcomed. At the bar, as I struggle to find change, a stranger buys me a beer on the condition that I’ll pay the favour forward some day in the future. I will.
The band are explosive. Exciting. Their 45 minutes on stage passes too quickly. I do not begrudge them devoting half of their ten-song set to their self-proclaimed “newest masterpiece”, because all of those songs are heavy and contain interesting vocal and guitar melodies. The strength of their performance affirms my love for this band, to the point where I’ll spend several hours the next morning listening to Sounds Of A Playground Fading with new ears; newfound appreciation for these songs having witnessed them in the flesh. The oldest track they play is from 2000’s Clayman (‘Only For The Weak’); it, too, encourages me to return to In Flames’ impressive catalogue. They are a complete unit: each member an essential component. No time for bullshit, jokes, or conversation: they’re here to play. These aren’t their best ten songs – deciding upon those would be a difficult task for any fan – but it’s impossible to fault In Flames tonight. The trip was worth it.
The Vine
