Freebutt, 8th November 2008

This is the grimiest, smelliest, sweatiest gig I have been to in a long time. And I love it. It’s just how a proper gig should be. You should smell, breathe and feel the music.

I was a little bit wary about tonight’s set from hardcore Canadian five-piece Fucked Up. I had heard that the lead singer, Pink Eyes, spits his drink out over the crowd and smashes bottles over his head, but here, he is nowhere near as scary and badass as made out to be. Sure, he looks scary and badass, but he’s good fun. And he makes damn sure the crowd has good fun too.

Fucked Up’s opening song finds Pink Eyes screaming in the faces of the eager crowd, inches away from him, and swooping the mic along the front line so they can bellow out the lyrics with him. It’s not long before sweat is dripping down his face and he rips off his t-shirt, revealing a generous portion of flesh.

Support bands Betty and the Werewolves and Let’s Wrestle are all fine and dandy but don’t really capture the pace and energy that Fucked Up encapsulate. They are quite infectiously melodic, but in comparison, Pink Eyes snarls as he lassoes the mic and flings it over the ceiling lighting rail then uses it as a punchbag. They joke about how they sold hardcore out and are on the front cover of NME, with Pink Eyes listed as 11th in the “Cool List”, which he is quite pleased about. It actually looks to me like he’s 22nd, but whatever. They think it’s funny and they don’t care, they’re just here to play music and kick some arse.

Pink Eyes growls through “Baiting The Public” with a sweat infested white towel over his face through the whole song, and goes on to cover ‘Son The Father’, ‘Fate of Fates’ and ‘Crusades’. I feel like I haven’t showered for three days, my ears are ringing, and I’m still grinning. 

Words by Amy Rutter
Photography by Rob Thomas