If Kyuss are Stoner Rock's Beatles (universally revered, rather pretentious, and no longer with us) then that makes Monster Magnet its Stones. There was always something a bit more organic, primal and downright sexy about Dave Wyndorff's crew that made them stand out from the other purveyors of mind-expanding space rock. Tonight is the start of a jaunt to celebrate 35 years of psychedelic riffs and cosmic baselines. However, no matter his stoic resilience, it is obvious that our Dave isn't well. An absolutely astonishing version of ‘Spine of God’ is punctuated by a freeform monologue where he ironically warns of the danger of taking too much Valium and the encore is truncated (‘Crop Circle’ and ubiquitous ‘Space Lord’ are on the set list but never aired) so that he can go and throw up. Monster Magnet are a band that has looked misfortune in the eye and marched on regardless, so despite Dave’s obvious discomfort they still manage to start this celebratory lap of honour in an absolutely stonking fashion.

With their Sabbath obsessed well-polished doom, Margarita Witch Cult make an impressively satisfying opening act. Our previous review of them supporting Bat Sabbath at Rebellion concluded with the line “Manchester waits in anticipation for the second visit”. We obviously got it right as guitarist/vocalist Scott Vincent points out the number of Margarita Witch Cult T-shirts that make up the front row with burgeoning pride. With 45 minutes to play with, this is a much more luxurious and expansive experience than their rather rushed 25 minutes earlier in the year. It's also noticeable that they have matured as a band and as performers in the intervening eight months. The coy shyness evident at Rebellion has now been replaced by a laid-back air of self-confidence. They are now convinced of their greatness instead of seeking our collective gratification.

Their brand of Doom is unmistakably well-polished and produced. It feels undeniably commercial but that doesn't stop it being beautifully rendered and delectably enjoyable. We get almost all of their self-titled debut, as well as a couple of newer unreleased tracks and a frankly unrecognisable version of ‘White Wedding’. You get the distinct impression that we reach the end of the set, because they have run out of material as opposed to time restrictions. Aside from the already converted upfront, they win over a crowd that is well-versed in this particular Avenue of metal. The refrains of closing number ‘Sacrifice’ are sung along with the same level of enthusiasm that would be reserved for a healiningning act. We said before and we will say it again “Manchester waits in anticipation for their return”.

35 years is a slightly odd milestone to celebrate but it provides an appropriate place to take stock of one of the undersung starlets of our world. The set is a fan boy and girl dream, exclusively culled from their first four albums. Nothing aired is from this century and the vintage crowd lap up the sounds of their misspent youth. As already covered, Dave Wyndorf is not well but that doesn't stop them from being extraordinarily good. The opening salvo of “Dopes to Infinity” title track, just builds in churning intensity. For the first minutes or so, Dave has his back to the audience as the other members create a patchwork quilt of crescending riffs. It's a stunning opener and the place erupts when Dave finally turns to face his adoring public. 

For all the cult of personality around their erstwhile leader (and only constant member), Phil Caivano has been an essential part of the Monster Magnet jigsaw for a full 26 years now. His guitar work this evening is simply extraordinary as he reels off hypnotic riff after hypnotic riff. During ‘Tractor’ he and Dave swap lines like a scuzzy version of Gene and Paul. 

The beauty of Monster Magnet has always been their variance and diversity. They prove wrong any perceived wisdom that space rock is monotonous and repetitive. They create decaying cathedrals of sound that move forward as opposed to swirling around in a futile circular movement. This musical multiplicity is proved beyond doubt by the switch in style and pace between a rampant ‘Negasonic Teenage Warhead’ and a laid-back blues-rock of seldom played’ Zodiac Lung’. Its return to the set is greeted with euphoria by the faithful upfront and we collectively wallow in its blissful laid-back supremacy.

The set is a treasure trove of much-loved classics and returning gems. However, the closing refrains of an elongated ;Spine of God; is utterly extraordinary. This is only the sixth time they've ever played it and they stretch it out well beyond its official eight-minute length. A struggling Dave sits down stage right for much of its gargantuan length, happy to let his bandmates do the heavy lifting. It is an utter personification of space rock. Like The Doors covering Hawkwind, it slowly unfurls itself in a simultaneously laid-back and euphoric manner. It is an utter beauty to behold, each lethargic riff revealing itself in an unrushed, almost glacial manner. It provides a fitting finale to absolutely wonderful deep dive into the beauties of Monster Magnet’s back catalogue.

They do return but by now Dave’s illness has taken its toll. Besieged by nausea he still manages to pull off a cracking version of ‘Powertrip’ that is full of vim and vigour and gets the whole of the, by now bouncing, Ritz bawling along. But that's it, with the proclamation that he is going to throw up, they exit the stage framed by ecstatic rapture to mark what absolute troopers they have been. The absence of the much-anticipated ‘Space Lord’ doesn’t in anyway dampen this extraordinary saunter down memory lane. Tonight, emphatically illustrated the importance and ongoing brilliance of this unique bunch of space (rock) explorers and the massive grins that are sported as the audience drifts away into the night says it all.

Check the “In The Flesh” page for more photos!
Monster Magnet + Margarita Witch Cult