After two visits to the UK in two years, one would assume that Dying Fetus would take a break from us but with the release of ‘Make Them Beg for Death’, we’d come calling sooner or later.
Before any band came on, pantomime style jazz tracks by Richard Cheese were playing but it was nothing more than a cheeky antic to fool any inexperienced concert goer into believing that it was going to be a slapstick comedy show. However, once Vitriol opened the bill, reality showed itself with family friendly entertainment off the cards.
They may only be a two-person band but boy can they make a hell of a racket. Like the cool kids at the back of class who always manage to get attention, these guys certainly made their presence known, eager to please a rapidly filling Manchester Academy 2. Matt Kilner’s Spiderman reflexes came to the rescue with drumming executed to the highest standard starting from a double kick. His feet barely came off the ground during faster sections as if gravity and him reversed roles. Magic tricks didn’t just shine from Matt’s lower limbs though as his upper ones were equally as potent with all sorts of blast beats ranging from bomb, hammer, gravity and skank travelling like Apache helicopter gunshots.
Kyle Rasmussen took centre stage and assumed responsibility of keeping fans’ eyes on him by pulling off some meaty riffs and solos which would make anyone fail a try not to headbang challenge as well as screams capable of exorcising any demons. Not to mention an ‘intimidating’ posture of a Viking ready to thrust their sword into a wounded enemy.
As has been a recurring pattern at this venue, the mix was muddy and bass/drums dominated with Kyle’s parts considerably drowned out. What’s a shame is that when a set is solid, poor sound quality can often take a spark off it.
Despised Icon were next and even though they slowed the tempo down a bit due to their deathcore style, there wasn’t a sign of boredom from the audience. Alex Erian and Steve Marois joined forces to peak Manchester’s adrenaline levels with call and response screams matching like Cupid’s arrow striking its target. Each of them performed a different type of scream in which Alex did most of the guttural parts while Steve did the fry/higher pitched ones and pig squeals, resulting in a pleasant contrast for listeners.
Ben Landreville and Éric Jarrin captained the riff ship with some picture-perfect guitar work containing satisfying tones which this time were clearer in the mix, filling out any emptiness. Alex Grind’s drums really did pack a punch in particular as you could feel the kick drum notes pound your chest like a subwoofer from close range including an authoritative snap to the snare. Playing wise, his technique excelled because pulling off heel-toe patterns without getting sloppy doesn’t take much but he swept that challenge aside and unleashed even more trickery, whether it be rapid-fire fills or grooves that not even the fastest Leica lenses could capture.
With every band having stormed through convincing performances, the pressure was truly on Chelsea Grin to deliver but they’ve been here before and calmly put any worries to bed. The Salt Lake City group continued raising noise levels and trying to catch crowd surfers was like riding Hawaiian waves without falling.
Unlike many bands where a singer doesn’t make their presence known without shouting at the top of their lungs, Tom Barber’s chilled body language and humorous tone of voice was enough to hype people up as the harsh vocals did the rest of the talking. In no mood to mess around, he took firm control by confidently juggling different techniques simultaneously and each type of scream fitted a song’s section like a successful blind date considering how rapidly things can unexpectedly change in a deathcore tune.
Stephen Rutishauser’s guitar skills played a key role in keeping us engaged, acting like a second mouthpiece to Tom with pre-breakdown riffs orchestrating the mosh pit to spread before all hell broke loose, which is a very important characteristic of this subgenre live. Other than that, he had an outstanding night and his playing was as polished as a shiny pair of shoes worn at a masquerade. After all the buildups, Josh Miller waved the chequered flag on drums to signal moshers to lose their heads with blast beats reverberating all around like anti-lag exhaust bangs and mega-tidy fills capping off a wild display.
With 2024 coming to a close and festive vibes prevailing, Dying Fetus crashed the party and turned Manchester into a bloodbath as for the next hour, the Baltimore brutal death metal trio terrorised the North West of England. Bodies were landing constantly over the barricade like Heathrow airport at peak time and pits risked turning into a stampede, giving security headaches all night long. Dying Fetus along with Suffocation are considered to be the pioneers of brutal death metal and have deservedly cemented their legacy as one of the best in the game. That evening was no different and the release of Make Them Beg for Death is concrete proof that they’ve still got it.
John Gallagher and Sean Beasley were on fire and since their partnership began in 2001, it’s aged like fine wine and has kept the well-oiled machine running stronger than ever. Together, they exchanged growls like animals preparing to fight for their mate and what’s most remarkable is their understanding of whose part works best for each one. To know a section made for you can only be felt inside your soul and there’s no simple explanation but the way that John and Sean pull it off both live and in the studio is something else. They didn’t even need to leave their spots as their presence was far too hypnotising and there were times when you couldn’t choose which one to focus on.
Vocal abilities aren’t the only talent that these guys possess though, as John has extra spells hardwired to his arms. Already running on high voltage, his electrified fingertips produced some jaw-dropping arpeggios, licks and riffs that anyone could air-guitar to.
Trey Williams may not be the most extroverted of drummers but his concentration levels while navigating his way around the kit were the equivalent of Ayrton Senna on a wet day in Monaco. Songs like ‘From Womb to Waste’ which they opened with is a prime example of what he’s truly made of where he whipped out a ton of different blast beats all in the space of a few seconds and fills that only years of practice can bring outstanding results. When seen from a fan’s perspective, it’s a sight to make your mouth water. Dying Fetus smelled blood and mercilessly laid waste to a helpless Manchester with a loud and clear message that whenever they come around, they don’t play nicely.
