aaamusic | On 12, Apr 2011

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London, 8th April

On a balmy Friday evening, a leather jacketed crowd congregated to hopefully witness a reprisal of the previous April’s rock extravaganza courtesy of a man who should be seen as, regardless of one’s music preference, a truly gifted performer. We are of course, referring to the one and only Michael Monroe, and his new supergroup.

Opening the night were the surreal New York Alcoholic Anxiety Attack. To try and pin down exactly what was going on would be difficult: the drummer was strongly reminiscent of Dave Grohl’s Nirvana-era style, pounding the drums in a powerful, solid beat, and the frontman looked like Jim Morrison in Freddy Mercury’s wardrobe, yet his presence was conspicuously understated. Between them, they constructed a workmanlike yet not quite inspiring rock sound. The set belonged entirely to the bassist, a man in a plush Viking hat who touted a five-string psychedelic behemoth of a sound, rolling off solo after solo drenched in effects and played with real finesse. This adventurous side, coupled with a good-natured attitude, lifted the band and I would say that given time, these guys could indeed become interesting.

Next up were the unquestionably stellar Voodoo Six. One of my perennial favourites (so expect a biased writeup dear readers) they were true to form, blasting out thirty minutes of meaty riffs, sizzling solos and soulful expression. The twin guitar assault was pitched perfectly, as the two passed the lead role between Pantera-isms and a bluesier, Hendrix feel. Despite a few false starts and wobbles meaning the set was perhaps not as tight as ideal, the band pulled another blinder. The seductively seismic, melodic bass rumbled through the audience, and vocalist Purdie, now firmly settled with the band, has most definitely developed from the music’s third wheel into a part of the songs, giving direction and a good-humoured yet powerful voice. The band may look like they’re enjoying themselves, but their heavy metal credentials are never once in doubt and tracks like ‘Killer’ are every bit as sinister as ‘Take The Blame’ is oddly life-affirming. They are a ten-legged monster of riffs and groves, thunder, rhythm and a tuneful bark and they mean every second they play.

By the time Michael Monroe’s tribal drums intro tape kicked in, the audience had packed out, in part due to a conspicuous amount of backcombed heads, but largely due to a devoted and deserved fanbase finally making their appearance. The band have a rock pedigree to put the entirety of Crufts to shame: Hanoi Rocks’ Michael Monroe and Sami Yaffa, Ginger of The Wildhearts, drum mercenary Karl Rockfist, and composer/rocker Steve Conte. On paper the band look like a supergroup to end all supergroups, and on stage the formula catalyses and bursts into incendiary life. Playing songs from across Monroe’s 30-year career, they lit up the stage brighter than the strobe lights. Not quite glam, not quite punk, not quite rock or metal, they sped through Hanoi Rocks numbers with attitude, while giving Demolition 23 tracks a Ramones flavour. Their own material from new release ‘Sensory Overdrive’ had a hint more heavy metal and straight-up rock, possibly due to Ginger’s influence, but all of it was given the boot needed to get the crowd going. Monroe was his usual stage presence, a perpetual-motion machine as he seemed to occupy five different places at once, doing several things at once. His mouth organ solos were stunted by microphone problems, but the band soldiered through this with few worries, and his antics of climbing up to the Academy balcony and hanging off the railing upside down by his knees earned a stern telling-off from security. The musicians easily held their own, guitars squalling and bass thundering around driving percussion. During their rendition of ‘I Wanna Be Loved’, an impromptu jam session combining ‘Eye Of The Tiger’ and ‘Riders On The Storm’ showed the band’s easy rapport before wrapping it all up with a snappy punk ending.

To end a Friday evening, the audience spilled out the venue and into the night, ears ringing from a gig well done. Given the options of dead, jail, or rock n roll, there was little question as to which we would choose.

Author & Photos: Katie H-Halinski