Music / Reviews
Review: Soulfly, Fleece
“Jump, motherfuckers!” commands Max Cavalera. Naturally, we all bounce up and down like fools, for dreadlocked Max is one of a handful of proper-job metal icons – the Brazilian Ozzy, if you will – whose exhortations must be obeyed.
This being the final date on the global metal road hogs’ latest lengthy tour, they might be expected to wind down just a tad. Not a bit of it: Soulfly are as ferocious as ever, feeding off the enthusiasm of the packed audience. Furious metal driven by complex tribal rhythms is a fusion that works remarkably well, but you can only pull this stuff off with an exceptional drummer. When Max announced that his son Zyon would be taking over the drum stool whose previous trio of incumbents have been suitably illustrious, one could be forgiven for detecting the whiff of nepotism. But five years on, there’s no questioning Zyon’s power and dexterity behind the kit as he joins forces with bassist Mike Leon to wrongfoot the crowd with those tricky time changes.
Despite a somewhat momentum-sapping solo spot (complete with a snippet from Raining Blood), ace former Ill Niño guitarist Marc Rizzo showcases a rich variety of styles and it’s particularly refreshing to find that Soulfly are finally using his talents to incorporate into their live show a little of the out-there trancey/mutant reggae that provides light’n’shade on the albums.
is needed now More than ever
With Max as ringmaster, they serve up a career-spanning show whose highlights include Prophecy (with the frontman on full metal roar), Back to the Primitive and that evergreen chant-along Eye for an Eye. It’s great to have their reworking of Jorge Ben Jor’s Umbabarauma back in the set, and not just because of the incidental pleasure of hearing a Bristol audience attempting to sing along in Brazilian Portuguese. As always, Tribe prompts a huge moshpit with its crushing opening powerchords and then leaves the headbangers floundering while they wait for the chorus, as Zyon switches abruptly to a more challenging polyrhythm.
During previous Bristol shows, Max has been happy to play the crowd-pleasing card with as many as four vintage Sepultura songs. Not this time. Perhaps in a conscious effort to expunge material by his former band, he gives us only the anarcho-punk flavoured Refuse/Resist. While this leads to a modicum of grumbling about the absence of Roots Bloody Roots, there are no complaints when Soulfly leave us with that now-trademark instrumental cover of Maiden’s The Trooper – nor about the heatwave having finally abated, otherwise we’d all be deceased after such a sweaty metal workout.