Cloud NothingsIt's rare to see a support band incite pandemonium on par with the headliner, but in the case of Violent Soho, they were barely two songs in when a cup of beer went flying overhead and all that could be seen of the front section was flailing limbs and feet in the air. The foursome were ferocious, headbanging and screeching through Neighbour Neighbour and Jesus Stole My Girlfriend, though it was the refrain of “Fuck you! Fuck you!” on Muscle Junkie that was shouted loudly back to the band from the pit.
If the room wasn't sweltering with sweat and excessive testosterone already (really, the ratio of men to women was grossly in favour of the former), the appearance of Cleveland's Cloud Nothings set the temperature to an all new high. Frontman Dylan Baldi looked practically teenaged with his backwards cap and manic hair, and the moment he yelled “Fall in”, the band and audience alike came to life. In the space of one song, several bodies made their way across the crowd, along with a brave stage diver or two; it was euphoric chaos not for the weak of will. Cloud Nothings make music to beat your chest and earnestly cry out alongside, and they had plenty of word-for-word chanting fans to help them out. On the ever popular Stay Useless, Baldi's desperate lyrics turned into a catch-cry, as the band thrashed about, provoking madness. There was barely a pause between songs, the incessant bombardment of noise often impressive like the magnificently long live version of Wasted Days, crowd braying the line, “I thought I would be more than this” urgently. Other times it fell flat, like the confused start to Separation that took a while to develop into discernible melody, and Baldi's nervous between song banter – luckily kept to a minimum. Regardless, Cloud Nothings managed to revive the garage rock spirit in a night of shouting exultation bound to leave throats scratchy in the morning.
