Qulture Magazine

Words and Photos: Tyler Murphy

Living just a stone’s throw away from The Green Door Store, you’re very aware of its pull on a night out. Nestled under Brighton train station, this venue gives something for all. Whether it’s a showcase of local Indie talent or a decadent 80’s club-night, spending any time in Brighton makes it an inevitability that you and your buddies will, at some point,  stumble away from this venue ten sheets to the wind with some stories to tell. What I tend to forget is that it has become somewhat of a mecha for heavy music along the South Coast. Sweat and beer run like river networks through the cracks of the cobbled-concrete killing floor, an unlikely moshing haven. This was one of those nights.

In-fact, the arrangement felt like an inclusive who’s who in the Brighton alternative scene, from students and teachers at the local musical institutes all the way through to familiar faces from the local scene. The venue was bustling wall to wall, certainly no shortage in footfall, yet the atmosphere felt charmingly insular.

KilaKosa

Warming up the crowd were the trendy new kids on the block, Kilakosa. And warm us up they did. Recently reformed from the ashes of pop-punk players Antoni Franco, KilaKosa flew off the handle with filthy beatdowns from the word go. Having not attended a hardcore show before, (out of respect for my own jaw), it was exciting to witness something that was very much in keeping with the modern metal zeitgeist. Visceral and relentless yet with somewhat of a hip-hop energy. Wasn’t sure whether I’d first S my P’s or start dancing.

Every Hell

Going in as an ignoramus for this next band, all I had to go off of were the murmurs in the crowd that this next band featured Black Peaks’ very own Will Gardner on vocals. With this kind of prestige,  we knew we were in for a belter. When Every Hell took to the stage every last one of us were in position, gazing up, eager and willing. Lambs to the slaughter. They didn’t disappoint. Crikey these boys knew what they were doing. Looking past the blinding riffs, the way that Toby’s ESP complimented his shirt, or the fact that Will busted out a f**king saxophone for half the set, it was the unassuming charm of the band’s persona that did it for me. They had a candid and unfiltered bravado about them. From the way they held themselves  individually to  the playful friction between one another, it felt unrehearsed and honest yet not accidental. These lads were professionals, disguised as cowboys. Affable rogues. A personal highlight for me was ‘Freaking Out’, the perfect demonstration of how Will would transcend from gutturals and spoken rambling into screaming like a banshee whilst retaining pitch with military precision. Doing so with arms spread like a drunken Christ, with a saxophone hanging by his waistline like the loincloth of the execution.

WREX

And now for some theatre. And this is what I love about WREX. Any band with a ring announcement intro is bound to deliver just that little bit more. With George Donoghue and Mae Seaton as the figureheads of the band you witness 45 minutes of engineered chaos, as they play off of one another and weave their way through carefully choreographed metal anthems.

Touching on subject matter such as neuro-divergence, mental health and relationship toxicity, they bear a heavy load. And when this drops, it lands with hefty gravitas. You can tell from the tortured ferocity with which George delivers “Wrap these words around your neck and ‘Take a walk’ off the edge!”, this is no contrived act. Yet, as empowering and intentional these themes might be, it still feels fun, all-encompassing and celebratory. A joyous catharsis.

These two proverbial totem poles use everything in their respective arsenals to conduct focal points within the room, strongholds from which they can whip the crowd into a torrid wave. Venturing onto the floor George parts the crowd to project his words up to Mae as she prowls and dominates from the stage like a wayward Nymph from the Mad Max universe. George only breaking the 4th wall to reveal a cheeky grin (which to me appeared to be a wholesome realisation of self-accomplishment and appreciation for his fellow bandmates).  All the while Greg (drums) and Tom (guitar) hold the fort, sporting Christmas hats like protective gargoyles roleplaying as Santa’s little helpers keeping a vice-like grip over the groove and flow, never detracting from George and Mae’s dominion.

The set time was on the shorter side but if I may give a hot take and suggest that more shows should be as succinct as this was. They had us in the palm of their hands from the moment they hit the stage and then released us back into the wild before we even knew what had happened to us. Too often at a show I’ll feel my engagement weaning around the hour mark, trailing off and looking at my watch wandering if there would be an appropriate moment to head for my train home. WREX’s final show of the year in Brighton and I for one am holding out for the new year.

Merry WREX-mas one and all!