Municipal Waste could quite easily have taken the easy route. They could have stuck a couple of identikit, but inferior, thrash revivalists on their undercard and jobs a good un. But not only is there a real desire to provide, in these troubled times, real value for money but Municipal Waste are more than happy to be given a run for their money each and every night of the UK tour. 

Therefore, they have decided to drag along with them two of the most exciting, hyped and downright incendiary bands currently orbiting our musical universe. Two incredibly different bands, I might add, who both operate in completely different musical spheres to the headliner. This means we end up with a wonderfully varied smorgasbord of pulsating molten metal.

Openers Undeath are reinventing death metal by re-engaging with its raw potent power. They have refound its sense of fun and its ability to shock and awe. Death metal has become sanitised and technofied over the decades, to the point where it itself has almost become the mainstream. Undeath is a conscious attempt to re-wind all that gentrification and to revel in the gruesome absurdity of the whole thing.

Musically they are utterly on-point. They may well have rejected much of the technicality that has been welded onto Death Metal in the last few years, but there is still huge amounts of musicality at play here. However, nothing is done to excess, and they have fully embraced the fact that Death Metal is at its best when the gnarly riffs have room to breathe. The duel guitar attack of Kyle Beam and Jarred Welsh grinds along in perfect symmetry. Neither outshines the other but both operate in a complementary manner, building a corrosive buzzsaw sound. 

For all their potent heaviness, there is a light-hearted mannerism to Undeath. Alexandra Jones berates the audience for going too early with the "Municipal Waste will fuck you up" chants and then declares a case of copyright infringement when some wag decides to start a "Undeath will fuck you up” refrain. He decrees that a beer swiped from the audience is "gross" and then is comically peeved when he discovers that the Carlsberg from his rider is even worse.

The most edifying aspect of the set though, is how good the three new songs are. They build on the jagged momentum of "it's time… To Rise from the Grave” but they seem intent on not just repeating the same circus trick. Instead, there is much more depth at play and the guitars soar upwards as opposed to drilling downwards. But the DNA that those fledgling tracks do share with the songs aired from their breakthrough release, is the fact that this is Death Metal with the fat trimmed and the rampant hunger re-engaged. A stonkingly fine start to the evening.

For all my metallic credentials I adore stripped-down Route 101 punk. My problem with most modern incarnations of the genre is that the rebelliousness and nihilism have been stripped away and replaced by a sugary commercialism that seems to betray its authentic roots. GEL are an absolute revelation and are probably the most faithful re-embodiment of true punk that I have come across in decades (or at least since I fell in love with Fucked Up). They hurtle through their set like a runaway train fuelled by minimalist abandonment.

Punk is meant to be simple, organic and dripping with kinetic power. GEL get all those components absolutely spot on. The air around them is so alive with primal energy that you can see the sparks glisten in the air. There is no showboating here and no displays of opulent musical excellence, instead, everything is hauled back to its most basic form. Their songs, which fly by at an alarming rate, are uncluttered and stark. They are beautifully but simply constructed to allow them to retain the bare minimum of what is needed.

In the middle of this melee of austere noise is vocalist Sami Kaiser, a dynamo of a frontperson who stomps across the stage with wild abandonment. They scream into their microphone like they are undertaking some form of cathartic bloodletting. Whilst the actual words are hard to discern, it is obvious that they are undertaking a therapeutic unburdening of all their personal demons.

If I'm honest I find it quite difficult to find the words to describe just how good and just how explosive GEL are. They have a corrosive energy that I infrequently witness and the lack of any bells or whistles makes what is there resonate even more. An incredibly important reminder of the utter wonderment of uncomplicated music.

Municipal Waste’s set starts chaotically and just accelerates from there. It manages to successfully walk a very thin line between organised fun and outright anarchy. In fact, Tony Foresta comments towards the end of the show that he was early doors concerned that they would have to cut the set short because of the number of incursions onto the stage, but that the audience had managed to stay just the right side of unruly.  

That said the bodies do fly with abandonment and Philip Hall's mike stand, for backing vocal duties, is very quickly relocated to the back of the stage to stop it being constantly uprooted. The same dozen or so intrepid souls appear again and again, only to be unceremoniously booted off by a foreboding roadie who is the spit of Les from Vic and Bob's Big Night Out.

To give us maximum bang for our buck many of the tracks are glued together like two (or even three) headed serpents of rampant thrashing goodness and this is obvious that they are relishing not being tied to the obligatory 45 minutes afforded to them within a support or festival slot. Tony makes play of the fact that a headline set allows them to deep dive into their extensive back catalogue and we get numerous underplayed nuggets from their now 20-year-old debut record. 

The utter beauty of Municipal Waste is the fact that it is pure unadulterated thrash metal that sounds ripped straight out of the early eighties. We get songs from all over their two-decade career and the point is any track could come from any album. Municipal Waste do what they do remarkably well and they seem completely disinterested in evolving, changing, or making any amendment to the signature sound.

You can tell that the audience love that dogged consistency and the pit is a molten cauldron of gesticulating bodies and screamed lyrics. The sense of fun and frivolity is dialled up to the max and even the most stern-faced prog fan would find it difficult to be not swept away by the wonton abandonment of the whole thing. Yes, it all majors in juvenile silliness but it doesn't stop it being incredibly enjoyable.

Towards the end of the show, they go all freestyle on us, throwing out songs that weren't on the set list and genuinely looking like they are having as much fun as we are. They end with the obligatory ‘Born to Party’ and those cries of "Municipal Waste is gonna fuck you up” echo around the room. Whilst not advertised on the set lists taped to the floor, the sheer weight of adulation brings them back for an unscheduled encore. ‘Demoralizer’ is short, succinct, and has enough pounding power to wrap the evening up in the manner that we have become accustomed to.

Three utterly different bands, playing three utterly different styles of music but all unified by that simple belief that organic simplicity is the way forward. And all unifying to provide one hell of a night. Job done.

Check the “In The Flesh” page for more photos!
Municipal Waste, GEL, Undeath