Damian Abraham doesn’t look like an American; he doesn’t even really look Canadian. He looks more like someone shaved a bear and pushed it on stage. Abraham fronts the Canadian hardcore band Fucked Up who are currently touring in support of its newest album David Comes To Life. Thursday night the band stopped in Nashville to play The Exit/In. Loud isn’t the word to describe that night. Three days after the show my ears are still ringing.
The album itself is a concept album that tells the story of a factory worker named David Eliade, who falls in love with a woman named Veronica Boisson. Together they build a bomb and in the resulting death and destruction, they ultimately find peace. Like most concept albums, the plot is a bit hard to follow, but it’s impossible not to hear the frustration and anger in Abraham’s voice. Whatever this man is trying to say he goddamn means it.
Before Fucked Up took the stage that night, there were two opening acts, JEFF the Brotherhood and Nashville’s own Diarrhea Planet. Diarrhea Planet is a six man group of power-pop gutter punks that play their craft fast, loud, and hard. The band has a strong almost cult-like following here in Nashville. Several people in the audience were holding signs that read “Ghost With a Boner” which is the title of what most people would call the band’s hit, if bands named Diarrhea Planet had hits. At one point the lead guitarist shouted, “OK, don’t move during this one! This one’s too fast to move to!” before jumping feet first into the crowd and playing a blazing solo on the sticky floor of the venue. It was around this time I took a shoe to the head from some stage diving hipster bitch. I’ve never been so proud a band was from Nashville.
JEFF the Brotherhood is also from Nashville, yet another animal all together, a duo of brothers that plays a bluesy mix of stoner metal and garage punk. I found myself instantly liking them, despite their ironic mustaches and hipster detachment. The two brothers played their set lit by only a single drop lamp and a few red gelled stage lights. As the fog rolled in and the sonic bath from “Hey Friend” flooded my ears, I found myself instantly transported to some mutant 1970′s basement gig. Singer and guitarist, Jake Orrall, stalked the stage like a wounded animal looking ready to lash out at any moment, while his brother Jamin kept perfect time and his cool like an ultra shaggy version of Charlie Watts. A kid with eyes of jellied fire turned to me towards the end of the set and said, “This is great. I hope this lasts for ever…” I think he was talking about the music and not whatever hillbilly drugs he had shoved down his throat that evening. Either way, I totally agreed with him.
When Fucked Up finally took the stage, I have to admit I was shocked at how normal they all looked, dare I say dorky? In a different setting they could have been a couple of friends ready to sit around and play some Sega and maybe smoke some pot, but as Mike Haliechuk began to play the opening riff to “Queen of Hearts”, something happened. The seemingly dorky Canadians turned into men and women of purpose with Abraham leading them in a sonic assault on the audience that either left people running for cover or crying for more. This band wasn’t playing a show – they were going to war and they weren’t taking any prisoners. “All right Nashville, How many real country music agents are out there? Do I got what it takes?” Abraham asked the audience before tearing off his shirt and tearing into “David”. The question was supposed to be a joke, but it came off more as a challenge.
Despite the confrontation found in Fucked Up’s music and Abraham’s stage presence, one can tell the band genuinely loves its fans. Several times throughout the night Abraham leaped from the stage to bear hug fans, sometimes even handing off the mike to an unsuspecting audience member who would scream a few lyrics before passing the mike back. Abraham has been quoted as saying in a recent interview with The New York Press, “The record exists in one world and the live show in another. You’re never going to be able to replicate the record exactly live, so why not make the live show as exciting and visceral as possible?” and that night’s show was held true to the rule. Throughout the band’s set there was an ever-present feeling of chaos, excitement, and sense of mutual respect. I hope some of that feeling was somehow able to spill into the real world.
Towards the end of the night, Abraham climbed up on the bar and announced the last song. The band tore into a lightning fast version of “Son of a Father”. The real pit mothers came out windmilling, trying to damage each other into another plane of existence. When the music faded and the lights went up I noticed one kid cradling an amp as it were a child he was trying to protect. He had his head pressed hard to the speaker, his face a mixture of pleasure and pain. Maybe he been hoping to find some transcendence in the music, or maybe he was just holding on for dear life.
Sam Wilson, Contributor
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