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Fozzy give Bradford the slam down

Reeko drift onto the stage, plug in and unleash the fury. This melodic punk outfit from Exeter make no compromises with their all out sonic battery, to call the noise they make offbeat is somewhat of an understatement. Changing rhythms and playing styles constantly, the audience looks a little non-plussed by the funky looping bass and discordant thrashing guitar. The noise makes them sound like the bastard son of System Of A Down, Primus and Muse. The music hits you like a short sharp shock and then they speak. “Hello, how are you all this evening” the vocalist says, his measured tones contradicting the music you’ve been listening to, “This one has a funny riff.” He isn’t kidding either, as the next song builds to a fury and ends suddenly, a silence filling the gap until polite applause is given as everyone wonders if this is the end of the song or a pause that will launch into another sonic explosion. The blitzkrieg rock starts to grow on you as you become accustomed to the switches between staccato indie jangling and all out chugging riffs. “Thanks for listening, this is our last song” says the vocalist/guitarist one last time as the three piece explode for one last time, the song drawing out at the end and the band drifting off as anonymously as they came on.

“We Will Rock You” plays the musicians that make up Fozzy onto the stage, and when it finishes Chris Jericho (Yes, the wrestler Chris Jericho) bounds onto the stage with a big grim that never leaves his face all night. “We are HUUUGE rock stars!” he shouts to the massive reaction to his appearance. “Nameless” is first up, and the groove laden rocking blast through has the audience bouncing from the off. Chris doesn’t have the greatest voice in the world, but he makes up for it with charisma and stage presence a plenty, and clearly loves rocking out. “Don’t You Wish You Were Me” is next up and is another example of big drums and shredding guitars. “Daze of the Weak” thunders into life next, “Go fucking crazy” yells guitarist Rich “Duke” Ward, “Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about!” as the more exuberant members of the crowd do just that. A discourse on the benefits of Bradford curry over Manchester or London curries introduces “Wanderlust” (“Bradford curry burnt our soles” Jokes Chris “But this song is heavier than Curry”). Much shredding happens yet again as the song alternates between slow and pounding sections. During the songs Chris runs from side to side on the stage, slapping hands, smiling. This band obviously loves their fans and their fans love them right back. In fact there’s an awful lot of love in the room, the band all taking time out to complement each other if they’ve just ripped though something particularly impressive. A name check for each member of the band – Duke and Mike Martin on guitars, Sean Delson on bass – precedes the introduction of new boy Eric Sanders on drums and a drum solo for him to show his chops. Then comes “Crucify Yourself”, another rocker and the band are firing on all cylinders by now, Sean hammering the life out of his bass. Then everyone takes a break while Mike delivers a face melting solo. “Holy Shit” pants Chris on their return while the crowd chants Mikes name and the band jam for a while. Audience participation takes hold for a while now, and a girl is dragged onstage after claiming to be able to chug down a beer. She fails though no one really cares, a big cheer following the froth spurting from the bottle. It’s a real party by now, and after “With Without” a girl is hoisted from a friend shoulders and invited to sit in the “crazy chair”. A few more people join her, and as “Enemy” rounds of the set there is a wholesale stage invasion. I swear at one point there were 50 people on stage, all going nutso, one guy even shredding on The Duke’s guitar… Chris looks astounded but pleased. “We’ve never had that happen before” he grins, before spreading his arms and shouting “WE ARE FOZZY AND WE ARE HUUUUUGE ROCKSTARS”. Go and see Fozzy on this tour, and if you don’t enjoy it you’re a miserable bastard. That’s a fact.