It would appear that someone is now likely to be stuck in a paper bag, struggling in vain to free themselves from its deceptively deadly clutches. Here's hoping they die, because they just totally fucked one of the best bands of our age. Also due a spanking are reunited Bay Area thrashers Death Angel. When a gig is running so late that your main support act graciously agrees to go on after you so as not to fuck up your comeback run, any decent bunch of musicians would have the consideration to finish on time. Instead, Textures go on over 30 minutes late at well past eleven, play to sixty people and finish a good ten minutes after every respectable form of transport in London town goes offline. If Death Angel say they lost track of time, then they're just unprofessional; if they knew, then they're just cunts, and we should accordingly consign them to the same bin out of which Anthrax are presently attempting in vain to claw their way... again.
But enough doom and gloom; if there's one good thing about a band as good as Textures getting the short end of the stick like they did tonight, it's that the faithful -- those who hang around even after our supposed headliners have finished -- get all the more attention. And Textures are a mighty awesome band by which to be lavished. A well-oiled machine who can go from from dizzying, Meshuggah-esque stacatto moshgold to spiralling lead sparring at the drop of a hat, these Dutchmen deserve so much more than they are presently getting. The jury is still out on Textures' latest disc -- the material aired tonight was good, but like some of the more hook-orientated material from 2006's _Drawing Circles_, it's hard not to feel that their progression is not so much improving upon their debut but moving at right angles to it. But whatever: when you cream Textures' catalogue and pour it into an eight-song set, you get one of the live sensations of this decade. Getting to watch them up-close and personal -- as any of the perhaps fifty people actually watching Textures by the time I had to vacate the premises for the last tube west could happily have done at any point during the band's set -- you realise you are witness to a rare phenomenon: a group of consummate musicians who can rock like bastards without missing a beat, and aren't even phased by being faced with a near-empty room. If you get the chance to see Death Angel any time this year, save your money and get yourself to a Textures gig. And don't fuck this up the way some bunch of idiots managed to fuck up this gig: the future evolution of music is counting on you!
Setlist: "Swandive", "Storm Warning", "Old Days Born Anew", "Stream of Conciousness", "The Sun's Architect", "State of Disobedience", "Regenesis".