The final arguement of kings…

So I returned home from a 12 day trip to England on Tuesday. I was supposed to come home on Monday, but this volcanic ash cloud from Iceland I guess had other ideas. Anyhoo, 48 hours later and I am feeling somewhat human again, and seem to be relatively caught up with sleep!

During our time there I managed, thankfully, to go and see one of my favorite bands, the mighty BOLT THROWER! These guys were my first ever live show, waaaaay back in the early 90’s at the tender age of 13. They blew me away then, and certainly did this night too. So, waves of nostalgia were abound as myself, my good lady Diana (who was super excited at the prospect of seeing them also…) my mate Matt Crump, and his good lady Lou entered The Asylum venue, which was pretty big. A bit like Doctor Who’s TARDIS. Looks small from the outside, but is frakkin’ huge on the inside. The roster was: Some local band who’s name I can’t remember, followed by Rotting Christ, then local Brummies Benediction, then finally, Bolt Thrower.  We all sat in the bar for the first 2 bands. I was mildly interested in seeing Rotting Christ, but they were pretty boring, plus we could watch proceedings on a huge projector screen in the bar. The turnout was excellent, and the place was packed. I was pretty excited to be seeing Benediction live also, as I was a bit of a fan back in the day, but I have to say I was not impressed at all with them, especially since Dave Ingram was not on vocal duties. Grunt he may have done, but he did it in his own way, and this guy just didn’t cut the mustard, as far as I was concerned.

Just before they went on, me and Matt caught up with Martin Kearns (drums), who I actually know through an old job of mine, and Barry Thompson (guitar). Unfortunately we didn’t get too much time to chat as they were about to go on, and although Martin said to stay around after the show, we had to leave 😦 ah well!

I snagged myself a Bolt Thrower hoodie and beanie from the merch table, a little bit miffed that the other shirt designs which I actually preferred were either out of stock, or didn’t have my size. WTF! lol! Anyway, the ladies decided they would stay in the bar and chat, while ‘the lads’ went out to see the band. It was hot as hell in there! Right from the opening intro they did’nt disappoint, and certainly reinforced my love for this band who have lived up to their own lyrics: ‘In a world of compromise – some don’t’. It really is the audible version of a tank driving across a battlefield littered with skulls, and I loved every minute of it. They only really played later stuff (I think, I was too busy moshing), but I don’t care, as I love it all. I got goosebumps when they played World Eater/Cenotaph, to which myself and Matt were furiously playing air guitar to.

Bolt Thrower really made up for the lacklustre support they had, and made it more than worth the effort to go and see them. I really hope that they play out a little more, and that they actually play some US dates too…

It makes me proud that I have my humble little corner here in internetland named after a Bolt Thrower track, call me a fanboy if you will, but I don’t care. Like they say, if the cap fits…

Paul

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In observance of Veterans Day/Remembrance Day

For The Fallen

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England’s foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

fallen