Clutch, The Sword: Glasgow Garage

The Sword might play gruff stoner rock that is the bastard child of Weird Tales and Sleep but they don’t half resemble more an outfit like Mudhoney, with their long hair and greasy jeans along with general slacker vibe. But it’s not songs about dope or motorbikes, no, it’s crunching riff-heavy workouts about Nordic gods and general sword and sorcery.

For all their myth endowed lyrics, it’s the riff power that matters and The Sword deliver by the truck load. Especially on Lament For The Aurochs that rises and falls like a Metallica epic played by the Obsessed. The Texans keep it tight and rocking, no surprises, just straight to the point and all the better for it compared to the sometimes aimless Clutch later on.

Clutch do have a way with riff and groove, part post-Helmet bludgeon and part ZZ Top tradition, they also have an undercurrent of Zappa weirdness. Clutch have lots of records, to the point of bewildering newcomers, but their most recent number is as good as any to pick up. It shows Clutch in the mould of classic blues rockers, with a smidgeon of old harmonica wailing like Aerosmith on the side. This newer material rears its head in the later part of the set, and is the most immediate. The first half favours older, heavier material, alongside a couple of extended jams, stuff lost on some of us non-devotees. Not that they weren’t good, just the overwhelming wall of riff was a little too dense where the later material felt loose and relaxed, the band seemingly having more fun playing it.

The band finished with A Shogun Called Marcus, a number that can sum up Clutch in one song: a little bit rampant, weird but huge sounding and rocking if you can get your ears around it.

[The Continental]

Shogun*

[poprock]

Don’t know what you’re on about.

[The Continental]

Shitfun*

[pettygraeme]

-Gig of the Year-

my vote's in!

PG