Take two titans of epic metal silliness, pack them off around the country with a week’s supply of eyeliner, hairspray and tattooists and – voila! – the hottest ticket in town. The Academy is already heaving at 8pm for the arrival of one of pop’s odder current phenomena. Screaming/streaming sensations Asking Alexandria are from the unlikely metal bastion of York, more synonymous with Terry’s chocolate and Shed Seven than screamo, metalcore and the various amalgams of teen-friendly hard rock.
And yet here they’re rocking the house with their bizarre fusion of guttural thrash and arena-sized 80s choruses, a la Europe’s The Final Countdown. The guitarists headbang in unison and theatrically flounce about like a metal Ballet Rambert, while singer Danny Worsnop demonstrates that, by heck, a bloke born in little Gilberdyke in North Yorkshire can develop an American accent and sing like a Dalek. “Motherfuckers, we’re back,” he roars – and so is he, having already left the band (acrimoniously, upon which he recorded a country-influenced album) and returned, in true Spinal Tap fashion.
They’ve since hugged and made up, but there does seem to be a slight musical gulf between the hoarse-tonsilled frontman and the band’s sheet-metal guitars and twiddly bits. He earnestly sings “here’s one from the heart” in Someone Somewhere – a distant relation of David Bowie’s Rock’n’Roll Suicide for modern alienated adolescents – and when things go acoustic he seems to unleash a fantasy alter ego as a dustbowl-dwelling, Jon Bon Jovi-style balladeer.
No such seriousness with Black Veil Brides, whose grand entrance features air punching and a stool-standing drummer. Four lifesize Ron Wood dolls fronted by an American version of Depeche Mode’s David Gahan, they’re an explosion of vertical black hair, studded belts, leather jackets, uncomfortably tight trousers and silly-shaped guitars, with a drum barrage like something from the Napoleonic wars.
With their Kiss-sized, bellow-friendly choruses – at least one of which goes “I’ll never let you steal my coffin” – and truckloads of whoa-ohs, the Ohioans are the Hold Steady of hair metal, the closest thing today’s youth will experience to the hilarious, now largely extinct 80s rock troglodytes captured in Penelope Spheeris’s tragicomic rockumentary The Decline of Western Civilization Part II: the Metal Years.
However, they have better songs than many of those bands ever had, and epic anthems such as When They Call My Name (which features bells – and presumably a whistle) prompt crowd hysteria. “Uh ohh! Uh ohh!” yell the band in Wake Up. “Uh ohh! Uh ohh!” reply the audience, who squeal as guitarist Jinxx reappears playing violin, wearing a top hat.
Birmingham is treated to a wonderful real-life Tap moment when singer Andy Biersack admits: “This is really embarrassing, but I’ve forgotten where we are,” to shrieks of Brummie hilarity. But for all the silliness, the American – who commands the swaying crowd like a demented conductor – seems genuinely touched by the screaming adoration. When they end with – but of course – In the End, the screams of “we want more” are louder than the band (a considerable achievement). Black Veil Brides are not so much a guilty pleasure as one requiring outright penitence, but – whisper it – they are a fantastic live experience.
- At 02 Academy, Manchester, 24 January. Box office: 0161-232 1639. At 02 Academy, Glasgow, 25 January. Box office: 0141-332 2232. At 02 Academy, Brixton, London, 27 January. Box office: 020-7787 3129.
