Medulla Nocte / Matter

Nottingham Rock City

September 1 2001

It's been a while again. Almost forgotten what was supposed to happen at these "gigs" things. Doesn't help being pisssed by the time I got there, having had to have a drink every time there was a goal in that match. Hey, you know, it has to be done.

Onstage are, I believe, Matter. They're fighting a loosing battle. There's not many people here, sarcasm of "we're in the City of Rock and you look like a crowd ready to party" just don't receive the reaction they deserve. In fact they receive nothing. The music is pretty much metallic hardcore, it sounds ok, but it's now a couple of days since the gig as I write this and honestly, I can't really remember anything, any riff, any song. Which may or may not be surprising. Unfortunately for them, it just didn't really happen tonight.

"Who'd have thought, the Nocte let loose again in Rock City" says Paul before the gig. Who'd have thought indeed. Unfortunately, there's not as many people here as witnessed them the last time they played, upstairs with Cradle of Filth. It's maybe understandable, many people are probably celebrating THAT footie result (though I'm still distraught that Wales can't win a bloody game these days, and hey, Owen was born in Wales fact fiends, you owe us ;-) ). I could of course say something about the fact that tomorrow Slipknot will hit No 1 in the album charts, selling shitloads of the album and make some kind of correlation with tonights showing. But I won't because that would be antagonistic and opinionated.

I thought they'd reached the ultimate intro to a gig with the "we're Medulla Nocte, waaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhh". Tonight it's topped. "We're Medulla Nocte, and this is our last fucking headline gig ever. So fuck you". It don't come much more in your face than that. Though the following Nothing for Second pushes it. Within 30 seconds Paul is doing is throw yourself to the floor act, and there's one lone punter who wanders up to stare Paul in the eyes. Which he returns of course, before hurtling himself to the floor again.

I think they're still using borrowed gear, following the theft of their stuff, but it doesn't appear to hinder. They're still as tight as ever, blasting ferociously throgh the likes of Twice The Trauma and the impeccable All Our Friends Are Dead. Once you've experienced them once, you kind of know what you're going to get, you know what to expect. But it's still as fresh as the first time. Still as reliable.

"It's not often you hear this sort of thing" starts Paul, "but we've got an album out on Copro Records. Don't buy it. We've been fucked over by Copro for the last 12 months, so fuck them." Not sure what's gone on there, but it's a shame that problems with the music industry seem to infest everything. And hey, don't shoot. I'm just saying what I heard ok. Whatever it is, you can probably rest assured, that as the band retreat to lick their wounds and write for a new album, it's not going to lead to a respite in their intensity. Rather it'll likely add to it. Not that they need it. It always amazes me how much energy comes of the stage, through the rawness and ferocity of the music. So much so that I feel it a duty to come up with a suitable way of describing it. And this time it's this, that Wayne Static geezer. Stick him in front of this lot, and his hair won't be sticking up anymore if you know what I mean.