Terrorzone: Angel Witch

ANGEL WITCH + GRAND MAGUS + IN SOLITUDE
LONDON GARAGE

Setting a tastefully timewarped theme that reverberates throughout this evening, the vibes of In Solitude‘s charismatic and incisive opening set tonight are rooted firmly in 1985, in some beguiling middle ground between the blasphemic shlock of Venom and, incredulity be damned, the pretty-boy flash of first-album Europe. Yet their dark and steely assault boasts a purity of intent and a potent, indeed Watain-esque atmospheric allure far removed from the boisterous raise-yer-pint swagger of much contemporary  twin-axe-attack metal, and it’s this magnetic spark that’ll surely see them outlasting the majority of more fairweather denim-clad diabolists. By contrast, the fine art of raise-yer-pint is exactly what Grand Magus excel at. It’s a more understated and matey kind of charm that JB and co. trade in, but theirs is a thunderous, earthy salvo, and their Bathory-down-the-boozer onslaught tonight sees them leaving the stage with temperatures considerably raised.

With a supporting cast as stellar as this, you’d think Angel Witch would have their work cut out tonight, but this is no ordinary reformed NWOBHM outfit we’re dealing with here. Kevin Heybourne may bear the very slightly shot-away look of a man who’s spent the best part of thirty years in the metal wilderness, yet both his blonde mane and his fiery axework are intact, and the sight of him duelling with the eerily youthful-looking Bill Steer is a surreal sight indeed, as strident, epic tuneage new and old alike hits the bullseye with disarming precision. A rafter-raising blast through their eponymous anthem is a fitting sign-off to a triumphant triple-bill that prompts an odd feeling in the punter:  it makes ‘em wonder what Vim Fuego would’ve thought of it.

JIM MARTIN

Photo: Antony Roberts