LIVE: Zeal and Ardor @ O2 Shepherds Bush Empire

Smoke and ambient soundscapes drift through the damp Empire as folk in the crowd place bets on whether Swiss metal trailblazers Zeal and Ardor will open with a new song or a classic. The only thing more crammed than the stalls is the band’s schedule, and they’re only in the UK for one night, tacking on a final show to their brief European run. Frontman Manuel Gagneux declares that he’s “elected to make this one to remember”, and with a setlist twice as long and intense as any other city has received, he’s not kidding. 

From the get-go, Zeal and Ardor show they know how to create drama through their music and presence alone. Silhouetted and hooded in a line, they enter to stark drumbeats, an echoing whistle announcing their appearance. ‘Wake Of A Nation’ feels vital, somehow both primitive and sophisticated in its gravelled guitar groans; ferocious yet timeless. But that’s only the prologue to the rest of the show. With a swift hand gesture, Gagneux flings his hood back to start ‘Götterdämmerung’, a song so iconoclastic live that it feels like it could shatter a civilisation. This is the point where crowd chatter ceases; of course we slam, mashing our heads into the air, but our concentration on the hypnotic act before us is near absolute. They know when to exercise the power preserved in the blues side of their sound, posed like ragged saints with a chain gang spirit that’s only stronger with the shredding throughout ‘Ship On Fire’. Their layers of vocals spill out into heads banging strong enough to make the balcony seem a little unstable before a nice, seamless transition into ‘Erase’. It feels feather-light until Gagneux’s roar grates then soothes. 

If we’re being overly critical, there’s not a lot of innovation in their set that’s not already captured in their albums. Gagneux doesn’t address us very often; “Instead of talking, here’s more angry music,” he explains, his speaking voice as precise as a radio announcer. There’s no videos, or  interactive backdrops, or showboating over the evening. However, the bare and precise presentation is a huge strength of their set, as is the fact that we get exactly what we expected, just at full blast and externalised. We don’t need more than the odd solo or smile when we’ve got an avalanche of a sound that envelops you, and without distractions all we can do is enjoy the spiritual swampy majesty of ‘Gravedigger’s Chant’.

New album ‘GREIF’ naturally features heavily in Zeal and Ardor’s setlist, and when spliced between the clanking chains and crossroads pacts of the older songs, the newer material feels refreshing. Crawling and slinking through bass like a heartbeat, ‘Killanova’ is definitely darker than on record but simultaneously more gentle and welcome despite the harshness of the guitar. ‘To My Ilk’ is almost presented solo, with Gagneux bathed in a halo of golden light as his band look on, transmitting a sense of personal closeness with each chord. His vocals are a guide through the psychedelic desert rock tunnel system that is ‘Sugarcoat’.

For a band who revel in creating dark and rousing music, there’s a self-awareness and playfulness about their show which is very endearing. ‘Death To The Holy’ is referred to as “our only good song, according to one guy on YouTube”, and when they stop the show for fear of a pit injury (revealed to be someone losing a sneaker), Gagneux laughs. “As long as no one is left barefoot we can continue,” he smiles, changing the opening line of ‘I Caught You’ to ‘I Caught Shoe’. They’re very clear that the music they create is separate from themselves, which makes how consuming it is all the more impressive. ‘Devil Is Fine’ is punctuated with desperate, open-handed grasping and painfully lonely guitar strokes, with enough force to be considered a seismic event. Our claps become a soft harbinger of ‘Built On Ashes’s escalating drumbeat, Gagneux’s hand practically twitching to catch up with his own pace on the desolate intro, played with throat ripping intensity. Yet after such a beautiful force of a song, Gagneux affably looks at his watch and mentions it will be his birthday tomorrow. The artificiality is part of the charm – we know we’re at a show, and they know they’re performing, so why pretend otherwise?

The sinister electro pulses of ‘Clawing Out’ fade, and the band hug and bow together like actors at a curtain call, but we don’t leave. Soft elevator music plays and the house lights don’t come on as we chant for more, but sadly this is a red herring, a final trick and twist in the Zeal and Ardor tale. It’s a magnificent show that plays to all of their strengths, whether they’re a modern take on the endless power invested in cotton era spiritual tones or a whole lot of chunky, intelligent metal. The real world feels flat after a ninety minute whirlwind show of this calibre. 

KATE ALLVEY