Having found the venue and grabbed a cider, early entertainment was provided by the local wildlife. A mob of around 40 Hackney hoodrats had decided to have a brawl outside the chicken shop opposite and were ineffectually trading swipes at each. All of a sudden someone steamed in holding a broom aloft (no idea where they had got it from) but they set about brushing up the opposition. Most entertaining and it didn’t even stop as a police car flew past obviously on a call to more important action. Thanks go to this Toxic avenger for keeping us amused but there is a serious message here, use brooms kids and not knives. Everyone walks away after!

Inside and just about to cause a different sort of rumpus are UK act Sacred Son. I had just realised prior to the gig who they were exactly. Causing scene consternation and notoriety on release of their debut self-titled album in 2017 you probably remember the album art featuring sole band member Dane Cross smiling under a spiky logo on what looks like a sunny holiday shot. Oh, how it upset certain kvlt guardians at the time. Now a full band and with a narrative developed about ancient history of Albion they set about regaling us with a couple of numbers from forthcoming album ‘The Foul Deth of Engelond.’ Bells clanged in a harbour as they transported us off with an atmospheric intro before exploding into thick and heavyset, windswept action. Vocals are hoarse and gruff and smiles were the last thing we were likely to get from anyone here.

The drummer on kit at side of stage laid out a propulsive battering and there’s plenty of galloping motion. At the end of this first attack there are some spoken word parts before the next dose of bravado. Smoke rose from the drumkit on every slow beat and there is a very British feel about all this in line with bands such as Soar and Old Corpse Road on the title track of the aforementioned album. ‘Le Blakheth’ follows, and you could close eyes to its rugged furrow and imagine the heads of tyrants being lopped off with an axe.

It almost sounded like the words ‘and here comes the chopper, to chop off your head” were being shouted as I lost myself in this long and involving number. Some occasional higher pitched backing yells from guitarist Mark added to the melee and I certainly was left hoping this album finds its way to me. Before they finished it was back in time to that debut and ‘Sepulchral Ritual’ and there’s another lesson to be learned here; don’t judge an album by its cover. This was an exercise in grimness through and through.

Back to September 2019 just before thee plague hit, we had the pleasure of witnessing Belgian trio Wiegedood performing their De doden hebben het goed’ trilogy of albums back to back. It was a particularly scathing performance and one that laid this stage of their career to rest. Now another chapter is written ‘There’s Always Blood at the End of the Road’ and finally back across the channel that is exactly where they have taken it, blitzing several English cities in the process. The venue is now suitably busy and there is an air of expectation as the trio dig in to their stage positions. Bigger kit for the drummer Wim Sreppoc, entrenched on our stage left guitarist Gilles Demolder and right the imposing guitarist and vocalist Levy Seynaeve. Probably one of the most destructive power trios out there right now and its one of their most brutal numbers first out the barrel ‘FN SCAR 16’. Yes, it is named after a Belgian automatic rifle and the cyclic devastation fired off the stage does feel like we are being repeatedly shot in the head. This is exactly the sort of entertainment we have come for though, strange that we are but thankfully the only thing that is actually flooring us is the precision of the deadly musical assault.

As we tumble onward, the album being played in its entirety, it strikes that Wiegedood live are a case of “shock and awe” there really is no better description of the power that is being driven through our ribcages here. The guitars are frantic and coruscating, the drumming like an armoured porcupine. I am sure I saw the sticks-man handed a cup of tea just before commencing and whatever brand it was it certainly invigorated as he smashed the china for all he was worth.

The odd strange gibbering sample on And in ‘Old Salamano’s Room, the Dog Whimpered Softly’ is a brief respite from this harrowing maelstrom which has to be one of the most intense albums heard in many a moon. If you have heard it and the band are due to hit your town you are no doubt aware that you are in for an experience that must be witnessed as it tumbles through the venue. The cyclic vacuuming effects again remind me of heads being chopped off. As they whir and seethe it’s akin to a decapitating machine, I close my eyes and have images of Tinto Brass’ Caligula and as the feral barks of ‘Noblesse oblige richesse oblige,’ the Latin title is the perfect accompaniment of the deranged ruler pointing thumb down in the gladiatorial arena.

There’s a moment of Americana sounding strumming, a jazzy noodle and then instant obliteration. The band whipped us up and swept us off our feet and yes, they were awarded by a bit of stumbled dancing at the front of the stage. Mere words cannot sufficiently describe the utter pinpoint carnage on display here and by the end the drummer is left head in hands momentarily before composing himself as the band leave the stage, damage well and truly done. We politely waited for a while, to be fair we needed collect ourselves too before we left the venue. It was pretty obvious that this was no gig for an encore, Wiegedood had wrought their wrath fully. Time for a Hackney carriage (well several trains) home, ears ringing and heads completely mushed.

Pete Woods