HOPESFALL. Mean Fiddler, London. 14.05.05

There are other hardcore bands. Other bands kicking and screaming out of East coast America all relentless verses and choruses that fly higher than the jumbo they got here on. But tonight Hopesfall stand alone.

The bass and drums are heavy and constant, rumbling out washes of noise for the guitars to pick delicate leads or put anthemic melodies over.

Vocalist Jay Forrest has a strong, hypnotic, singing voice and can muster the scene staple impassioned scream but the man is a genuine enigma. Standing still for minutes at a time he nods along to his bands coiling space rock, fixing crowd members with a stare that seems to shift from confontational to embracing in a split second. Just when you're about to question his involvement he dives into the pit, walks over the crowd on people's hands, or leads a healthy clap-a-long.

The set mixes the old, the very old, and the new to great effect. Their contemporary softer sound does nothing to damage Hopesfall's magic or confidence and like all good performances it feels over too fast and leaves you wanting nothing at all but oh, so much more.

Other bands are in this for the chicks or the cash.

Other bands write crappy filler for shitty albums and play sloppy live sets for audiences that don't care.

Other bands aren't Hopesfall.


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