Coffin Mulch | Jotnarr | Haavat | Vicissitude
Voodoo Daddy’s, Norwich
28th July 2024
Something fetid is afoot in the forgotten hinterlands of the UK. A hideous resurrection of the most abominable kind. A small but fanatical New Wave of British Death Metal is creeping out from urban mortuaries and rural body pits to take its place in front of, and upon, tiny stages in the backrooms of pubs and clubs all across this wretched isle.
Along with bands like Slimelord and Celestial Sanctuary, Coffin Mulch are flag-bearers of the NWOBDM, and their momentum is growing. Your jellified wordslinger, Sean Millard, slips within the gaggle of cadavers to witness this worm-infested revival in the (decomposing) flesh.
Voodoo Daddy’s has recently relocated. It retains its reputation for serving up pizza, drinks and underground bands in equal measure. The new location, appropriately, invites you down into the cellar for the live room and bar. Here it excels at being loud, airless and sweaty. These are all good attributes to have, especially on a night like this.
Events begin with Vicissitude, relocated to East Anglia from New Zealand, to spread their grim word in the form of blackened death metal. The room is packed and sprawling up the stairs. Amassed to witness their miserable din. Vicissitude are an accomplished and enigmatic presence, but not magnetic enough to stay behind in the memory for long.
The first real thrills of the evening come blasting at us muddily from Norwich’s own punk rock rascals Haavat (translates as ‘Wounds’, in Finnish).
They count among their number crustcore luminary Mid, of Deviated Instinct, and the powerful Finn, Katri, on vocals. The four piece have entirely slayed the room by the time Eksynyt come to its screaming, delayed and feedbacking end. Haavat are not for the faint-hearted; their punk is real, in your face and as abrasive as a sheet of 40 Grit. Mid’s guitar competes with Katri’s voice to see which can sear louder and longer over Andy’s tub-thumping and Alex’s (ironically, very middy) bass growl. They’re playing a lot. Go and see them.
Next up are Colchester’s Jotnarr. They impress at first, with their Baroness-inspired riffing paired with plenty of hardcore breakdowns, but that formula soon becomes repetitive. They have an interesting angle on instrumentation. Just two guitars and drums – no bass – but still manage to sound really heavy, which, in itself, is something of an achievement in a lineup like this.
And then the calm before the storm. Sling those sensible shoes in the bin, madam, because I’m afraid you are about to lose control of your bowels.
Right from the off, Glasgow’s Coffin Mulch are exciting, breathtaking and cool. They are mucky, dishevelled and loose – famously inspired by early Entombed. Their Death Metal is punk at heart, with more of a footing in mid-paced hardcore than the Floridian polish and grind of Death or Morbid Angel. Oh, be still, my beating heart; with a set split fairly evenly between songs from their Septic Funeral EP, their debut album Spectral Intercession and (presumably) something forthcoming, they blast, grind and bludgeon from start to end.
There are clearly some road-worn fans in the audience. These death-craving ne’er-do-wells scream every guttural word along with Al, who leans against the throng, disappearing completely into it at times before lurching back to the stage to throw shapes towards the matte black firmament. The air is so sweaty, spitty, breathy and gnarly that the band’s sound takes on a life of its own; enormous, gruff and nasty. But listen carefully and beneath that revolting surface are hooks and bastardised melodies that elevate Coffin Mulch to their position in the upper echelons of the revolution.
Their message is gory but peaceful; animal rights rather than animal bites – and that makes them all the more interesting. There’s an intelligence beneath the Luddite masquerade that makes them beguiling, memorable and addictive. Once discovered, they stay with you. They have that magic.
As the doom-laden Life Devoured winds down to a close and the lights go up, you are left reeling from a kidney punch; breathless, adrenalised. Above all, exhausted.
There’s also a twinge of hope; could this really be the dawn of something vital and stronger than its component pieces? It would be marvellous to think that, waiting in the wings are a dearth of inspired youths, ready to inflict their gory, foul and rigour-ed fantasies upon us in the future. It’s hard to imagine that Coffin Mulch will be playing in these tiny back rooms for much longer. They’ve cracked the crust of the underground and are dragging themselves up to a new dawn of the dead.
Perversely, I haven’t felt this alive in a long time.
~
Coffin Mulch on Bandcamp
Vicissitude on Bandcamp
Jøtnarr on Bandcamp
Haavat on Bandcamp
All words and pictures by Sean Millard Find him on X/Twitter
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