For one night only, Spiritbox are gracing the UK with their presence. We all knew they’d be back after their slot supporting Korn last year, but selling out the ten thousand strong Alexandra Palace is a whole different ball game for the Canadians. It’s all part of their quiet takeover of the heavy music landscape, and tonight is the night they raise their flag over London.
“The kids are coming for you!” screams Stray From The Path frontman Andrew Dijorio, and he’s spot on; his band’s raucous bouncing spark the dry excitement of those piled closest to the stage. It’s rare to get bouncing hands halfway across an arena by the second song of the first support, but Stray From The Path tap into the barely contained desire we all feel to absolutely let loose. Bravado and provocation blend with beats like broken bottles to raise a clear banner to open the night, and new song ‘Kubrick Stare’ bursts with in-your-face daring. As Dijorio reminds us before ‘Fortune Teller’, “we are an army and this is a fucking battlefield,” because whatever you stand for, Stray From The Path is ready to tear it down.
Periphery enter to strings and rapt filming, the precursor to a compelling set. It’s a heady mix of melodic joy and furious beats with the strength to exorcise a demon or two, and while the lighter songs like ‘Atropos’ display an ambition to stretch themselves beyond any constraining label, the crowd are here for the seriously heavy undertones. They conjure mysteries with each distorted bassline and delicate shred, moving between growls and pleas in a set echoing with touches that push the boundaries, but their dramatic touches never come at the expense of their majestically formed sound. The closing pairing of ‘Marigold’ and “the heaviest fuckin’ song we know,” ‘Blood Eagle’, showcases the two ends of their sound perfectly; aspirational and innovative shredding, married with deep and dirty heaviness.
Conga lines to the front snake through the crowd long before Spiritbox hit the stage, before thunder signals the thrill of the oncoming storm, their glitching silhouettes creating an instant immersion. ‘Fata Morgana’, performed for the first time live, moves slower and stronger, projecting a sense of solidity and power. As an opening salvo, deep with cold echoes on the reverb, it’s one you could drown in without regret. Their ambient transitions break into ferocious electricity for ‘Cellar Door’ as Courtney LaPlante struts in sequinned chains, the guttural half of her range bursting through the darkness. Mike Stringer plays guitar like he’s allowing us to glimpse the inside of a great machine before gentle chimes melt the song away, and the glasslike loveliness he creates at the start of ‘Jaded’ quickly shatters into a a wall of shred, LaPlante’s voice like a prayer intoning behind.
It’s all business with Spiritbox, though when LaPlante does address us later she apologises for being a “yapper.” Instead of banter, they frame their songs with soundscapes to showcase each mood like they’re displaying oil paintings at a museum. ‘Halcyon’, with its melody like quicksilver, shimmers with its smears of guitar and power poses against the abstract backdrop before a screamed holdout. ‘Perfect Soul’ might be a gentler interlude but with no loss of power; a watercolour, each note seeping at the edges, that feels like a cleansing ritual. “This reminds us of our first time in London,” remarks LaPlante, her voice a purity emerging through the mud of ‘Eternal Blue’. We bob, enraptured, to the notes pulled to the vanishing point on a song that phases in and out of our reality.
“We didn’t think we could sell the show out,” the frontwoman admits in her first longer address to us, some forty five minutes into the show, “I’ve been thinking about what to say in between songs… We all feel so at home, we’re finally with our people. We never thought about what ten thousand, five hundred people would look like in a room together.” While it’s great to feel appreciated, she’s mostly chatting to give the chance for a super-fan to propose to their partner onstage in a rare and heartwarming moment of spontaneity in an otherwise flawlessly curated show. It’s only a short pause though before ‘Rotoscope’, primitive and essential in it’s vital melody, signals the start of their closing act.
They won’t leave without offering a few treats. ‘Sew Me Up’ gets a live debut, a tune like a ghost moving through the wreckage of the fuzzy, phasing guitar, and ‘Hysteria’ feels bigger and more complex in it’s bass focus, sending out the energy of finding enlightenment. Spiritbox’s pace feels accelerated, alternating between rage an contemplation. ‘Soft Spine’ goes out to “all the people I fuckin’ hate,” a pure release of aggression and spiritual unearthing before ‘The Mara Effect Pt 3’ emerges as the thoughtful flip-side, a chance to collect ourselves again after the screaming. The opening of the show passed like a dream, but ‘No Loss No Love’, also with a live debut, tears through your mind before they slam the night home on ‘Holy Roller’ to vast communal adoration.
There’s a final delight, and it’s an unexpected one. “There’s so many different ways of expressing your anger and your sadness – this song used to make us so sad but playing it for all of you, it’s the happiest I’ve ever felt,” LaPlante tells us. ‘Constance’ appears, semi-acoustic, a song that weaves a subtle magic of honesty and bare emotion, a love letter across the space between the barriers, a confetti celebration of surviving that can’t fail to move. It’s a touching swan song, and a moment to remind ourselves how Spiritbox have captured the hearts of so many over the last few years. Each song contains meaning beyond the obvious, and it’s this meaning which has endeared them to fans far beyond the “ten thousand five hundred” here tonight.
KATE ALLVEY