January 28, 2000

London Highbury Garage

Though they've made their name supporting the big acts on the mascara-drenched sports metal circuit, [a]Will Haven[/a]'s brand of angst rock is a world away from the synth-driven, [a]Gary Numan[/a] me

Though they've made their name supporting the big acts on the mascara-drenched sports metal circuit, Will Haven's brand of angst rock is a world away from the synth-driven, Gary Numan metal of bands like My Ruin and Coal Chamber.

Theirs is a grass roots, punk rock take on metal, their debut album's on Revelation Records the home of straight-edge hardcore where barber shop cuts and workwear pants are de rigueur. Fishnet gloves and lipstick are, like, for losers. Dude.

Deceptively clean-cut, Will Haven's sweat-drenched set is 45 minutes of pure, unrelenting, electricity that makes crusty old grindcore muppets like Napalm Death seem even more past their sell-by date than they already are. They're a one-trick pony for sure think a teenage Neurosis without the orchestras but something's made this pony snarl.

Will Haven's songs are self-bettering, revenge-on-the-world anthems. The all-out noise attack of 'Fresno' finds singer Grady Avenell, bug-eyed and sodden, howling: "I destroyed us and any common ground/But half the fun is rebuilding". Rip it up and start again. Will Haven are headed in the right direction.

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