Reviews

Live review: Green Lung, London O2 Kentish Town Forum

Green Lung triumphantly bring the glory and magic of their heathen land to the city at their massive, landmark headline show...

Live review: Green Lung, London O2 Kentish Town Forum
Words:
Nick Ruskell
Photos:
Paul Harries

At the start of This Heathen Land, Green Lung promised to take you “Beyond the cities and motorways of modern Britain,” to “An older, stranger country.” Tonight, in one of the most North London-looking bits of North London, with more traffic lights than trees and where it’s never dark enough to properly gaze upon the night sky, they conjure a folk world of magic, ancient gods, witches, stone circles, old lore, communing with nature and otherworldly visions. And riffs.

That would be enough, but this is also a celebration of just how insanely high Green Lung have risen since the album’s release 16 months ago. Already a liked name among doom and stoner underground from which they were born, in the 2,300-cap O2 Forum with a show to match such an occasion, it’s a band showing themselves not just at a high watermark, but in their natural home in such grand surrounds, as they cast their irresistible spell effortlessly and entirely.

Early doors, it’s up to Satan’s Satyrs to establish a sinfully ‘70s vibe. Ten years and one breakup and reformation since they were last on these shores, the be-flared Virginia quartet (led by one-time Electric Wizard bassist Clayton Burgess) give London a dose of groovy, unreconstructed rock‘n’roll straight from the greasiest of garages. It’s like Motörhead on mescaline, along with a grindhouse vibe that one imagines the fictional band Bloodlust from The Last House On The Left might sound like.

Unto Others, meanwhile, are The Lost Boys. Gothed up to the nines, they arrive armed with long black trenchcoats and shades indoors, and play some of the darkest, most velvety glam-edged metal you’ll ever hear. Even on more energetic and (relatively) lighthearted form than we’ve seen him previously, frontman Gabriel Franco remains the last word in stoic, vampiric monotone, which is actually quite the charming characteristic. Cuts from last year’s Never, Neverland like Butterfly, the surging Momma Likes The Door Closed and Suicide Today are shadowy treats, as is their slick cover of the Ramones’ Pet Sematary.

From the moment their enormous Ooser head is unveiled atop a multi-tiered stage and the first riffs of Woodland Rites roll out, Green Lung are a band born to tread boards of this size. Tom Templar looks like a man living out every one of his bedroom metal fantasies, singing as much from his endless theatrical hand gestures as he does his (tonight particularly huge sounding) voice. Meanwhile, Scott Black has quickly morphed into a formidable guitar hero, shredding through Mountain Throne, huge power ballad Oceans Of Time and thunderous Reaper’s Scythe like some mad fusion of Tony Iommi and Brian May.

Adding to the occasion, there’s also intriguing surprises to go with the big production. For the stirring folk strum of Song Of The Stones – a reflective, quiet number they had the guts to bring out at Bloodstock, without losing a lick of momentum – half the band leave the stage for first half to be performed by an all-female trio dubbed The Oosettes, sticking around to add violin to May Queen. Both fully show the wistful, old Albion muse at the heart of the band perfectly.

This quiet moment also makes the returning thump through an epic The Forest Church, Hunters In The Sky (“About hunting aristocrats on Dartmoor…”) and riotous Maxine (Witch Queen) all the more powerful. And for all the talk of ancient times and a sound that drinks heavily from the cups of Black Sabbath, Deep Purple and Queen, it’s all immediate, vital, energised, now. It’s not an escape to a rural-noir fantasy, so much as a reminder of the importance of these things. Therein lies the magic.

Before finishing with the brilliant, diabolic hymn Let The Devil In and a magnificent One For Sorrow, featuring a joyous circle pit, an elated Tom tells a story. Years ago, as a youth, he took the bus from Norfolk to see much-missed doom legends and Green Lung inspiration Cathedral play their final show at this very venue. Then his mind was blown that such a band could achieve it. Tonight, it’s blown again that his own band have done the same.

There’s a key difference. That night was the site of Cathedral’s funereal final stand, the end. For Green Lung, having not just made it to such a place but filled it, Iron Maiden-style, with fans decked out in Green Lung shirts, Green Lung patches, Green Lung tattoos, and given them a show that wouldn’t be uncomfortable in an arena, it’s still only the beginning. Welcome to the new green age.

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