B-Real from Cypress Hill introduces his gang Fear Factory at an evening of caustic nu-metal shenanigans...
This year’s rock journalism handbook comes with an advisory that each and every review about the SnoCore Tour has to have at least one snide reference to the fact that in actuality there is no snow in connection with the show, no discernible winter theme affiliated with the concert and that the venue itself is not in a city where that form of precipitation ever falls.
That taken care of, Saturday’s Sno-Core show at the Palladium in Hollywood gets off to a slow start largely because of Boy Hits Car who commit the missteps of writing tiresome stop-and-go metal songs and using awkward metaphors for song titles, such as ‘As I Watch The Sun Fuck the Ocean’.
The improvement marked by the arrival of Slaves On Dope is best gauged by the change in the pit. During Boy Hits Car a slender number of the gathered few make half-hearted attempts at bumping into one another, but Slaves On Dope’s frantic sprints across stage gets them whacking each other in earnest.
Easily the best all-female Canadian metal band in years, Kittie spark young girls to punch each other like the boys do and roar at one another in their best imitations of singer Morgan Lander. During Kittie’s time on stage, we notice a head bobbing across the table that happens to belong to B-Real of Cypress Hill fame, who despite the distinct lack of snow still manages to rock the ice with a pair of frostbit wrists. Within minutes he’s on stage introducing his “boys” in Fear Factory and unabashedly plugging his latest endeavour, the upcoming Dragon Festival.
Fear Factory stick to a set that ranges from new songs from the forthcoming
album such as ‘What We’ll Become’ -a more melodic offering than previously heard from the group – to old standbys from way back in the ’90s such as ‘Scourer/Devourer’. When the lights suddenly get switched on as Fear Factory near the end of their set, singer Burton Bell looks as startled as all the fans who rapidly pick up on the fact that their evening will soon come to a close. A full five hours of metal, however, will satiate even the most metal-starved beast and the tired wild things straggle to the exits with nary a peep.
Text and Image: Colin Devenish