The singer had a skinhead and wore all black. A faded plain t-shirt, Levi 501s, a leather belt, military boots, and leather gloves. His recently shaved head was red and inflamed and there was dried blood around his ears. Feedback rang out as he paced the stage staring at the floor. The people in the front of the crowd slowly fell into each other as they anticipated the first song. The singer mumbled something into the dented mesh of the Shure SM58 microphone, but his vocals were too low in the mix and no one heard what he said. Upon realising this he shouted the word fuck. He rolled his eyes and shouted at the drummer who carried on looking down at the snare drum.
He pushed the guitarist, which jolted him into action and he began playing the opening chords of the first song from their newest album, which Lambgoat Magazine had described as ‘inhuman’. The singer took two large steps until he was in the crowd and pulled his hand back before swinging it into a guy’s face, perfectly in time with the rest of the band starting to play. The guy fell back with blood streaming from his face as the singer barked the first words of the song in a guttural register. No one helped the guy and the singer walked to him again and lunged at him to make him stand up. When he did, the singer grabbed him by his t-shirt and screamed in his face. The guy nodded as though he was enjoying it, his white t-shirt soaked in blood.
The singer let go of him and paced the empty space at the front of the crowd. The kids in the audience looked at him giggling as he lunged for them and swung the microphone by its lead above his head like helicopter blades. He grabbed one of the kids by the hair on the back of his head and screamed even harder with his face centimetres away from the kid’s. When he finished the vocals of the verse he pried open the kid’s mouth with his fingers and spat inside it. The kid’s face at first looked shocked, but then he and his friends burst out laughing.
The song ended and the singer downed four brown bottles of beer before he allowed the band to play the next song. They kept trying but he pushed and kicked them each time until they stopped. He stood centre stage and drank the beers and belched and stared at the crowd. There was no feedback and it was almost silent in the venue as the audience watched the singer sway whilst he downed the beers.
When he finished the last one, he screamed into the audience with no microphone, not the same style of screaming that made up the vocals of the songs, but a kind of wail, during the last of which he produced a small amount of vomit that he spat on the floor; the kids around it all laughed and pointed at the foamy white beer vomit. The singer suddenly stepped off stage in giant over-exaggerated steps, the last of which he brought his foot down on the puke puddle, splashing it over everybody, exactly as the second song kicked in.