(Photo by Joe Lepper)
Such is the Irish punk quintet’s seemingly inherent savvy for creating an alluring live show atmosphere, the twanging guitar and dramatic strings of an Ennio Morricone soundtrack – emanating from the dark and misty stage – set a compellingly cinematic scene even before the Dublin lads arrive into view. Morricone’s old-timey, spaghetti-western flavours also provide a pleasing sonic antithesis for the blistering and visceral punk rock to come.
We’re only halfway through opener ‘Nobody’s Coming To Save You’ – rambunctious title track from the band’s sophomore album, released last month – when singer Dan Hoff steps off stage to bellow at eye-level with members of the front row. He regularly punctuates his rage with a clenched fist and a celebratory arm in the air. Before ‘Nausea’, Hoff asks “Are you ready to fuckin’ dance?” before imploring more crowd reaction by waving his upturned palms skywards. The song sprints forward with a constant wail of siren-like industrial guitars as Hoff – a powerful and impassioned vocalist – angrily asserts the “It’s a problem that they all have” refrain.
‘Des Goblin’, doesn’t so much utilise quiet/loud dynamics, but more a brooding simmer before boiling over into another punchy, impactful chorus. It seems that Hoff’s vocals – often delivered with both hands grasping the microphone as if he’s looking to strangle it – have two primary modes; his less effusive style has him sounding like Kasabian’s Tom Meighan while his fierce, confrontational roar enters terrain similar to IDLES’ Joe Talbot. Whether conscious or not, his stage antics and affectations often evoke fellow Dubliner Grian Chattan; he is full of cheerleading arm and hand gestures, geeing up the audience, jogging on the spot and – in executing a few flying kicks and 360 pirouettes – he’s a compelling watch as a frontman.
“The first time we played outside of Ireland was in Bristol, we love coming here”, says Hoff. This is before ‘Pins’, which is a bit softer, as it hurtles forward with skimming arpeggios and the repeated chorus slogan of “I Want It/I Need It.” The band appear as smoky silhouettes illuminated by an orange backlight, and the choice of stage presentation is highly effective throughout; individual bandmembers intermittently become visible, before retreating into silhouetted form, amidst the use of strobe lighting, smoke and multi-coloured backlights.
Gurriers are the sort of band who, while undoubtedly effective on record, come into their own in the full sensory expanse of a live performance. They are impassioned, powerful, tight, and they capture something of a tangible band-of-brothers type aura while, at the same time, being considerably varied in appearance; guitarist Mack McCormack is faux-redneck with tasche, mullet and Davy Crocket headgear, bass player Charlie McCarthy dons a low-cut ballgown and other guitarist Ben O’Neill dons 90s Oasis-esque Adidas.
(Photo by Joe Lepper)
The group’s particular brand of robust punk is one that mostly eschews conventional attempts at melody, but instead they deliver choruses that serve as riveting mantras that burrow their way into the psyche; ‘Nothing Happens Twice’ is a fine example of this (“Nothing ever happens here, nothing happened twice.”) During ‘Shades’, Hoff repeatedly bellows the slogan “and you, and me” while pointing back and forth between himself and the audience.
Quite the opposite to a Macklemore-esque activist sermon, the vitriol of ‘Erasure’ ends with Hoff briefly asserting “Free Palestine.” While it is difficult to ascertain the song’s lyrics when heard live, some post-gig research and one can clearly grasp the connection, and indeed the source of the song’s ire. Lyrics such as “Clean ’em out, take aim/Tell ’em all they’re not being displaced” are obvious laments as to Israeli military action in Gaza.
Tonight feels exactly what live music should feel like, with an audience both packed in and animated, a mosh-pit going on at the front, and enough incident that boredom is absolutely not on the cards; there is a communal effort, betwixt fans and security staff, to feed enough surplus mic cable to allow Hoff to venture into the crowd and deliver ‘Drones; one can frequently spy shoes going ceiling-wards as crowd-surfers are nearly turned upside down; and Hoff separates the audience for a Wall of Death before the chugging momentum build of ‘Waiting For Fisher.’
During this tune, I am hugely surprised to hear Hoff excoriate “Who do you think you are? I am” which is the memeified – and quite nonsensical – brag of former professional ten-pin bowler Pete Weber. Having just learnt of this just a few days ago when watching docuseries Born To Bowl on HBO Max, it feels the oddest of coincidences. Someone might have lost their phone in the Wall of Death melee. And someone had launched a shoe at Hoff, which inspires him to dedicate next tune ‘Approachable’ to the “fucker who threw a shoe at me.”
The final time Hoff addresses the audience, he declares that tonight has been “fucking amazing.” And he’s not lying; it’s been a proper gig.
Scott Hammond
