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Review: Meshuggah/Zeal & Ardor, O2 Academy
On paper, precision tech-metallers and blues/gospel/spiritual black metallers make for an unlikely combination. But the headliners draw musically adventurous, cross-genre punters – from prog to extreme metal – so it’s no surprise to find Switzerland’s distinctive Zeal & Ardor getting one of the best receptions ever seen for a support act at the O2.
It helps that confident Meshuggah have gifted them an excellent sound, generous use of lights and a lengthy hour-long set that permits them to squeeze in around 15 songs. The headliner’s vast array of gear leaves just a narrow strip of territory to occupy at the front of the stage, so they’re positioned in a row, with drummer Marco Von Allmen tucked away on the far left.
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Despite these restrictions, opener Church Burns immediately grabs the attention and sets out the sextet’s stall powerfully, its multi-part A Capella spiritual chants giving way to crushingly heavy guitar and furious headbanging all round.
It’s an approach they use on several songs, notably Blood in the River and Devil is Fine – whose Satanic chain gang shtick was our first introduction to Zeal & Ardor’s many charms. Having three singers allows for plenty of vocal versatility while acting as a bulwark against the black metal onslaught, though founder Manuel Gagneux (the son of a white biologist and a black jazz singer, in case you’re wondering) is no mere screamer, slipping easily into soul and blues territory on occasion.
“Do you want to hear something really angry?” he asks when introducing Death to the Holy, as if anyone here is going to decline such an offer – though Trust No One from the Wake of a Nation EP written in response to the death of George Floyd is arguably even angrier.
Just in case the band’s logo (the sigil of Lucifer) didn’t give a big enough clue, most of these songs flow from Gagneux’s proposition: what if American slaves had embraced Satan rather than Jesus? Fittingly, they conclude with a paean to everybody’s favourite non-binary, woke-friendly Sabbatic goaty demon, Baphomet.
During the 30 minutes it takes to set the stage for Meshuggah, the capacity crowd sings along raucously to crappy lo-fi keyboard instrumentals of songs by the likes of AC/DC, Slayer, Pantera, System of a Down and Twisted Sister. Then, after a suitably portentous intro, the Swedes appear, each of them initially silhouetted against individual light boxes – except drummer Tomas Haake, whose gargantuan kit is perched atop an enormous riser in the centre of the stage. What follows is a relentless 90 minute barrage of skilfully co-ordinated sound and light – a sensory overload that’s most definitely not for the faint of heart. Fortunately for them, the faint of heart seem to be elsewhere this evening.
The show opens with chugging Broken Cog and Light the Shortening Fuse from ninth album Immutable. By the time they hit crowd favourites Rational Gaze and Pavus, the entire dance floor has been transformed into a writhing sea of moshing, crowd-surfing bodies.
It’s easy to succumb to this cathartic release, but away from the fray there’s no shortage of extraordinary musicianship to savour. At any Meshuggah show, it’s always difficult to tear your eyes away from Haake, whose polyrhythms and unsettling time signatures wrongfoot anyone tempted to dance while prompting everyone else to marvel: how the fuck is he doing that?
Equally mesmerising is Fredrik Thordendal, who coaxes extraordinary sounds from his seven- and eight-string guitars (exhibit A: the solo in Born in Dissonance), taking his cues mostly from jazz fusion rather than metal. To detractors, this is all cold, mechanical and technically precise; for fans, that’s exactly the appeal of Meshuggah’s intense brand of extreme metal.
Commanding beardy frontman Jens Kidman, meanwhile, is a man of few words but no shortage of aggressive barks.
It’s all elevated on stage by a brilliantly conceived light show, augmented by fog machines working overtime to billow out what grandpa would describe as a real pea-souper. Pummelling our retinas throughout, the lights strobe, swoop and cycle through multiple hues in perfect synchronisation with the music. This in turn helps to disguise the fact that Meshuggah themselves don’t move around much on stage, such is the technically demanding nature of their material.
It’s perhaps a surprise that they’ve dropped the signature Bleed from the current set, but this is swiftly forgotten when they conclude with a blistering Future Breed Machine, leaving the exhausted crowd to shuffle their way towards the exit through the cloud of fog that has now engulfed the entire venue.
All pix by Mike Evans
Read more: Metal & Prog Picks: May 2022
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