David Comes To Life:Fucked Up @ the Scala.

"Hello, my name is David, your name is Veronica. Let's be together, let's fall in love" - Queen of Hearts, Fucked Up.

It's probably no surprise, after so long without going to regular gigs - and with the next day off work, that last month's Fucked Up gig, in which they played their 2011 album David Comes To Life in its entirety, should turn into something of a boozy affair. Even when the Scala is charging £7 a pint.

Or £11 if you prefer a two pint plastic bucket. Financially, that makes sense, but do you want to end up in a busy moshpit with one of them. You risk ending up wearing roughly £8.25 of it - as my mate, and fellow gig attendee, Colin did.

I got about £2's worth down my top so I was more fortunate but, really, I should have known I was in danger's way because that album's second song Queen of Hearts is both the song that introduced me to Fucked Up (and still my favourite tune of theirs) and an absolute certified banger that was sure enough to cause the beers to start flying wildly..

Which is exactly what happened. After the gentle, if ominous, musical introduction of Let Her Rest it's straight into that very song and, spillages aside, it's as great as it's always been, as great as it needed to be. Damian Abraham, aka Pink Eyes, screaming himself hoarse while somehow remaining in tune and spinning the microphone lead round in wild abandon while guitarist Jonah Tucker and bassist, and the band's secret weapon, Sandy Miranda chipping in on backing vocals in a song that sets out the stall for a night of non-apologetic hardcore punk from Toronto.

The only real let up in the pace of the night is when Abraham briefly leaves the stage and drummer Jonah Falco come to the front to sing the more ballad like, by their standards, Truth I Know and Life in Paper round about the middle of the set.

 

Otherwise it's full speed through airborne, melody tinged, screamalong anthems like Under My Nose, Turn The Season, and A Slanted Tone and on to set closer Lights Go Up and even the encore which includes early, 2003, single Police. If there's any complaint, and it's a very minor one, it's that some of the tracks sound a little too similar. Fucked Up are what you'd call sound band more than a song band. That's not to say they don't write catchy 'numbers' but that they have a clear identity and rarely stray too far from it.

Nobody seems to be complaining at the Scala. Running On Nothing is underpinned with some almost heartland rock adjacent guitar work, Ship Of Fools (if you take away Abraham's vocal) veers from pub rock to prog rock, and A Little Death is probably as close as they get to metal. But these are simply different flavours. The crisp, essentially, remains the same and it remains a punk crisp.

The refrain "dying on the inside" from The Other Shoe seems like wonderful anathema when delivered by a band that carries this much passion and energy but that's the duality of Fucked Up. They're angry about a lot of things - and they've got every right to be - but their songs are shot through with hope, they're full of righteousness, and there's a deep sense of love that comes through with them. Love for making noise, love for music, and love for each other. They're nice punks.

Thanks to the excellent Sacred Paws in support, thanks to Fucked Up, and thanks to Colin for sorting the tickets for this gig, for providing some of the photos for this blog (I had no intention of getting any more beer spilt over me), and, more than anything, for being my gig buddy. Fucked Up? I was by the end of the night.