Somewhere along the way Dying Fetus has become a big deal. Tonight, is near enough a sell-out, with over 500 tickets being shifted for a death metal gig on a Monday night. This is usually the graveyard shift and the reserve of no more than fifty or so aging men who should know better, slamming into each other as a last-gasp attempt to retain their youth. But not this evening, the vast majority of people here are young, really young. I would go as far as to say that a good proportion of them weren’t even conceived when I first clasped eyes on Dying Fetus supporting Nile at the late lamented Jilly's back in 2005. 

What is also interesting is that, whilst there is an enthusiastic throng for all three components on the undercard, most punters prefer to remain upstairs until the headliner hits the stage. Either in the student union bar enjoying the novelty of subsidised beer or outside in the cold spread across the picnic benches behind the main building. From my perspective, this is a real shame as the promoters have pulled together a really eclectic kaleidoscope of the state of modern extreme metal, some more to my personal tastes than others. 

Frozen Soul kick things off and it is immediately obvious that they really want to be Cannibal Corpse when they grow up. There is no variant or texture to their particular brand of death metal. It's in your face, galloping riff time, and they busy themselves with making as much noise as humanly possible. There is something wonderfully primal about death metal when it is this devoid of progression or variation. It's heavy, it's frantic and it provides the perfect soundtrack for a small group of punters in the middle of the floor to beat the living shit out of each other.

With precision-engineered 15-minute turnarounds, no sooner have Frozen Soul exited the stage, that Cabal are marching onto it. They are utterly incredible and in many ways are everything that Frozen Soul wasn't. There is so much variation in each track and there are so many textured layers in the music. Yes, it's still Death Metal but this is Death Metal in a state of fluctuating evolution. Each track feels differently wired and nuanced than the last. Opener ‘Magno Interitus’ is corrosive and tinged with creeping intensity. However, the third track in, ‘Exit Wound’, (preceded by a stark warning to check in on your friends and family before it's too late) changes the pace completely by being slow and pendulous. And then there is ‘False Light’ from their debut album, which feels again different in style and substance from the preceding tracks. This is essentially deathcore but with heightened technicality. There is much more light and shade to be found here than is usual in this rather monotone genre.

Cabal is a band very quickly finding their feet. Tonight, they feel so much more confident than the slightly nervous newcomers who supported Lorna Shore in this very same venue not 12 months ago.  Andreas Paarup has shawn off his impressive locks and in doing so has become even more oppressive in his stature. He now looms over the front rows obviously confident in both his and his outfit’s abilities. As they slam into ‘Death March’, he demands action from the pit and the hoards do not disappoint him. Cabal are on the verge of something very special indeed. Deathcore is evolving, and they seem to be at the very forefront of this new variant.

With Nasty we seem to go back to a much more simplistic and tribalistic take on extreme metal. In fact, I wouldn't even describe them as being within the same postcode as Death Metal. This is hardcore or even, in places, metalcore. It's also really bland and monotone. Every song seems to sound like the one that went before and the one that will go after it. They try hard, but it just comes across as all very samey. It’s an identical riff regurgitated again and again over 45 minutes. It just all feels very nihilistic and to be honest rather boring. 

There is a lot of pointless posturing and posing from front person Matthias Tarnath. He continually demands a circle pit, at one point pontificating that it should go around the pillar to the back of the room. But try as he might he never manages to elicit the interest of the assembled bodies and instead the floor is held by the same four intrepid souls scissor-kicking each other like demented toddlers on tartrazine. It all feels mundane and lacks creativity. The inventiveness of Cabal just feels a long way away.  

Come 10 o'clock, those who are holding fort alongside the slightly intimidated students, have moved downstairs and the place is absolutely rammed to the rafters. Dying Fetus has shifted from also-rans to grand wizards of the scene. The place erupts as they saunter (or in Sean Beasley’s case limp) on stage and the ownership of the pit is transferred from a karate-chopping few to a heaving mass of hundreds. As they carrier into ‘Justifiable Homicide’, the place erupts and doesn't stay still for the next sixty minutes. it's a tight, taut twelve-song strong set of utter brutality. We get at least one song from each of their eight albums and, probably more interestingly, in the shape of ‘Compulsion for Cruelty’ and ‘Unbridled Fury’ two sneak previews of what to expect from their ninth one when it appears later in the year.

One of the joys of watching Dying Fetus is trying to work out how the hell all that racket is coming from just three men. They beautifully balance brutality with technicality. This is not just Bam-Bam-Bam Death Metal, John Gallagher's guitar playing is nothing short of virtuoso and he shreds out layers upon layers of technically astonishing notes. Then there is Sean Beasley's Bass, which instead of busying itself with creating the rhythm, decides to go head-to-head with the lead guitar. There is no slap-slap-slap to be found here. Instead, he creates an exquisite tapestry of dark, fertile notes that equal anything that would come out of a six-string.

But then there is the brutality and in terms of both the lyrical content and the sheer ferocity of the music, this very much is the last word in all-consuming harshness. It feels like being in a melting pot and everything just builds and builds. The set is beautifully engineered so that every track feels a little bit more penetrating and extreme than the last. John and Sean trade vocals with each other like some demented version of Gene and Paul, giving off an impression of just how well-honed the line-up is (they have had the same setup now for 16 years). 

There are no encores. We just get a riotous final one-two of ‘Wrong One to Fuck’ with and ‘Kill your Mother, Rape your Dog’. John Gallagher takes time to point out once again that Sean Beasley is playing this tour in a foot brace because of unresolved complications arising from an operation and then with a swift wave of the hand they're gone.

Dying Fetus have moved from riotous upstarts to elder statesmen overnight. As you stand watching, them the reason for their ascension and the highly impressive ticket sales is obvious. They are faultless and peerless. The musicality on show is just utterly stupendous. Yes, it's heavy and yes, it's coarse but is being produced by three exceptionally skilled musicians. Death Metal is not about grunts, growls and infinite blast beats. Good Death Metal needs to be carefully crafted and Dying Fetus are veritable craftsmen. 

Check the “In The Flesh” page for more photos!
Dying Fetus, Nasty, Cabal, Frozen Soul