I only found out about this concert the day before as a result of a chance enquiry so my research into the bands I didn’t know about was therefore extremely limited. Whether research before live concerts is a good thing is a moot point, as to some extent it denies spontaneity, but bands go to the trouble of rehearsing so I like to research. Malaysia, I’ve found, is in any case the most underground of underground when it comes to heavy metal music, improved by social media channels, but it still can be difficult to find out about bands. Yet I’ve always witnessed a high standard and level of creativity, and so I was greatly excited to be at tonight’s strangely titled “Kiriman (Send) Fuzz and Chips” extravaganza. The Soundmaker studio in Penang that I had been to before had character but was the crumbliest affair you could imagine, resembling a highly sociable building site, but this now was the new Soundmaker in a different location in central George Town. Neither the presence of a K-Pop star nor a Zumba competition in a different part of town was not going to draw me away. This was the place to be, assuming you could find the entrance which I only did with the help of a couple of locals who looked the sort who might attend but were aghast in a Malay way when I told them there was a heavy metal concert going on – “too noisy, ya. Enjoy the concert”. The new Soundmaker itself is not palatial but is nicely laid out, with posters of previous campaigns lining the walls. In layout, it reminded me of the Black Heart in Camden. There were 40 something spectators here for the 9.30pm start, but there was plenty of room for more. Even so, there was a nice feel.

The temperature in my home city of Cambridge at the time the concert started was 5C, having risen from -3C overnight. Here the temperature had dropped 3 degrees to 29C. I braced myself for a hot one with the added bonus of body sweat and heat from the equipment thrown in. Even so long trousers were the order of the day to guard off the hungry mosquitos after the show. We don’t have these problems in the UK. We have transport disruption instead. My fears were unfounded. The temperature in the room was comfortable with fans at the back, and far better than outside where it was sweaty and clammy as usual.

Starting it all up was Majura, about whom I had precisely no prior information. This was rectified immediately when I walked into the venue with last minute preparations going on and sat down with its friendly band members. I learnt that they are from Taiping, formed last year, play alternative metal and this is their second concert. One thing I found about their musical compositions was freedom. Heavy with emotively progressive sorties, Majura transmitted the sense of a turbulent journey. Ebbing and flowing, this is a difficult band to buttonhole. We experienced flurries of sound and plenty of energy but at the same time no obvious direction in the songs, which came across as messy. A fellow concert goer who was at the back of the room told me he found the sound to be murky and imbalanced – this may have been to do with the sound but I suspect more to do with the ever-transforming soundscapes, which I felt the band struggled to rein in and were difficult to manage. Sometimes the mood was darkwave, sometimes it was outright rock and there was an occasional post metal ring and even momentary epicness – I guess this is what you call alternative. I sensed a lot of good ideas here and the instrumental work was accomplished, but as you’d expect of an inexperienced band finding their direction, the shape of the songs was strange and needed development.

Sick isn’t a very original name for a band but it was clear they weren’t going to let that bother them. I confess that I’d initially misread their logo as “Sigla”, which as we all know is Icelandic for “Sail”. Given their style this name wouldn’t have suited them anyway. Rapping hip-hop modern metal with plenty of attitude was their game. You might associate this attitude with New York, not Malaysia or Penang specifically as this is where they’re from, but ultimately it’s all about the freshness and the mix. To use a food analogy, as people like to do in these parts, imagine a boring school dinner curry and a Malaysian one, which is bursting with flavour. This was a Malaysian curry. If Sick reminded me of anyone in their musical mindset, it was the cyber metal band Drip Fed Empire, who are from Bristol, and therefore have nothing in common with New York or Malaysian curry. Now let’s not get the idea that this was something intellectually artistic that might get analysed on one of those programmes that used to take place on Channel 4 on Sunday evenings with Melvyn Bragg and Joan Bakewell. It wasn’t that. What was impressive was the execution, the co-ordination and the power. What I saw from Sick was oceans of energy, backed up by a bassist and drummer who knew how to create rumbling depth.

On a visual level, the pocket-sized lead singer won the award for Most Clichéd Appearance with his hoodie, oversized Green Tigers top and statutory baseball cap. Hand movements, wrist gestures, finger movements, body contortions, a goofy grin and other facial gestures were his stock in trade. But he couldn’t be faulted for his effervescence or energy, and he certainly got the crowd going. A most enthusiastic mosh pit developed as the set exploded with energy amid the growling bass and hard-hitting drums. My role at this point was to act as an ersatz wall as people bounced off me. A young man stood on my foot. “I’m sorry”, he said. What lovely manners. “It’s ok”, just carry on” I replied. The carnage continued. The song “Fuck you” led to the inevitable exhortation to the crowd to repeat the chant. Its message made me think of “I think it’s clever to swear”, the drippingly subtle lyric about adult-child dynamics by punk rant poet John Cooper Clarke on “I Don’t Want to Be Nice”. Sick weren’t being subtle. Leaving the childish stuff out of it, this was a lively and dynamic set in which the hardcore antics worked well alongside the heavy musical core. And it was audience-friendly. If being smashed against the wall repeatedly by people moshing is a sign of success, then Sick were very successful indeed. And I concede that Sick is a more suitable name for them than Sigla.

Satyagraha was the only band here that I knew about in advance of this concert. I saw them play in 2018, and reviewed their demo “An Insistence on Truth”. What I do remember were the deep atmospheric sounds. At the time band member Donni Jepp, to whom I am grateful for alerting me to tonight’s concert, told me they were finding their way as a band. It was time now for an update. I learnt that there hadn’t been much band activity between times but what was most evident this evening was the intense and detailed preparation for this show. Mystical cosmic sounds, blending into a fuzzy drone, solemnly and patiently filled the air. An Eastern tone wafted through. Bursting the hypnotic bubble, the drummer suddenly picked up his sticks and marched into the audience. My initial reaction was that he had an emergency toilet need, but it transpired he was on another mission. He returned with a saucer and some joss sticks, hurriedly placing them on a stool in the centre of the stage. A technical problem arose: he had no lighter, but found a solution by asking a spectator for one – good audience interaction and problem-solving skills in evidence there – and made use of it by lighting his own cigarette at the same time.

The deep waves continued. I was transfixed, not only by the music but also by the sight of the candle wax now spilling like white volcanic lava onto the leather-covered stool. The tension mounted. Massive sounds came gushing forth. The piece being played called “Satyagraha” was enormous. It was atmospheric, powerful and mystical. Progress was deliberate. Drumming clarity juxtaposed the echoing mists coming from the guitarist and bass player. The spectators were so mesmerised when the piece ended that they failed to respond. Addressing this issue, the band did issue a rumbustious riposte, descending into doom once more as we climbed the mountain of “Non Violence”, an essential part of the teachings of Gandhi. The trio played with burning passion and conviction. Pure doom was interlaced with a running volley of heaviness. The set finished with “Yatra”, another slow burn hypnotic power pack with a psychedelic rock wave. Cosmic waves returned as the guitarist played distantly. And so it ended. Satyagraha had drained me of all my energy in absorbing their music. They know what they’re about. This was top of the range atmospheric doom by the trio from Perlis. This was a deep experience. And there was no incident with the candle wax, although I can’t imagine it did the stool cover much good. Satyagraha took me to another time and another space. So transcendental indeed was the experience that when I went to thank the guitarist later during a quiet moment he had fallen to sleep.

Raksar, or RKSR as they appear on the bill, were last up. I don’t think anyone could deny that this band model themselves on Black Sabbath. Indeed, the lead man even looked like Tommy Iommi in his heyday, and had 70s style flared trousers to match. The groove was deep. The passages within the songs were smooth and the band played tightly. The songs had both hardness and melody, and were altogether decent but I was finding that this was all going over my head. For me the band and their music lacked personality. I should counter that statement by observing that the rest of the audience were visibly more appreciative. I did enjoy the freshness of “Bentala”, the title song of their album, and give credit to the Malaysian Iommi for the quality of his vocals which matched the distant eeriness of a certain Mr Osbourne. Once the band stopped trying to mimic Black Sabbath and Ozzy, it improved for me, as the band launched into a series of rock n roll numbers leading up to a climactic end. The lead singer to be fair did engage actively and personably with the audience and there was evidently a lot of goodwill on both sides, so well done to Raksar for that, but it struck me that they should be themselves more. From what I saw, their strength lies in the fact that they are a proper rock n roll band, and not a clone of Black Sabbath. 

So, as I stepped out into the steaming street and waited for my taxi, I reflected on a great evening. We had four bands playing different styles and at different stages in their development. Each of them deserves praise. We turn out for the music, but the icing on the cake is always the great people who attend. This community spirit isn’t peculiar to Malaysia of course but it’s always a pleasure to meet and have conversations with band members, venue organisers and fellow spectators, in which we share our thoughts and experiences, and have a good laugh. So well done everyone. I very much look forward to my next Malaysian musical adventure.

Andrew Doherty