Fear FactoryBlack is the new black. Well, it is tonight anyway. And long hair. Check and check, thank goodness. A sea of this suitable attire is marching into The Tivoli early and before the lights go down the house is pretty near packed, with a palpable buzz afoot.
Melbourne metal fusion quintet Twelve Foot Ninja are first to pound The Tivoli stage tonight with their supremely clean chugs and tight lines. Lead orator Kin unleashes the reggae-doused Mother Sky from the cage, and the minute those precision guitar flicks and Damon McKinnon's bruising bass drops the room erupts. By the time they traverse a set full of tunes from their EPs and debut, skirting more reggae fusion in Vanguard and polished prog-metal in War, the raucous crowd are all ears. Oldie Coming For You closes proceedings with cut-time flamenco and a sweet'n'nasty funk guitar.
Speaking of machines, the usual, genre-appropriate pre-show and intermish backing music has been replaced by what sounds suspiciously, and by all intents and purposes probably is, the Terminator soundtrack. It's odd but perfectly apt if one happens to take a cursory glance into Fear Factory's inspiration behind 1995's formative industrial metal game-changer Demanufacture. A concept album spitting venom at a machine-controlled society, a la Terminator, the 11-track colossus is the star tonight, commemorated from start to finish. The place is jam-packed with sweaty metal boffins when the lights dim and the familiar, skeletal machine-like shapes of Demanufacture's cover slowly float down on the backdrop. Fists fly into the air when the foursome appears, singer Burton C Bell quickly quipping “Are you ready, Brisbane?”. When the first chugs of the title track drop, there's almost a sense of relief escaping into the air that soon has hands, hair, water bottles and even shoes slicing through it. Bell's voice is still spot on after all these years, and flitting from growl to his straight tenor is no easy feat. He's slightly pitchy in massive hit Self Bias Resistor but nobody gives a shit. Guitarist Dino Cazares looks completely huggable, smiling, pointing, revving for call-backs, swinging his mop about, but the man means business and his shredding in Replica is mind-blowing. Security is kept busy with a spate of crowd surfers, some of which, impressively, manage to almost stand and square up to Bell. It's a punishing set, and by the time closer A Therapy For Pain rolls around, everyone looks knackered.
There's no rest for this wicked lot, though. Only a couple of minutes sees Bell and co. return for a blistering encore that includes the great Edgecrusher, a fun and furious highlight, and closer Martyr (no sign of massive hit Linchpin), whose fit-inducing lights, killer bass and heart-thumping double-kick are preceded by a very raspy but grateful Bell. Ever the gent, Cazares hangs around to shower the crowd in picks.
Undeniable as a genre-defining band of the 1990s, Fear Factory as a collective have proven they're more than capable of dusting themselves off with those tight lines and seriously addictive chugs. The halcyon days of industrial metal live on.
