Sound issues fail to stop Slipknot sweatfest at Arena Birmingham - review and pictures

You know that exact smell. That mixture of sweat, damp hair and bodily odour rising from the crowd, the discharged residue of pyrotechnics drifting forth from the stage and the sticky, sour waft of watered down beer that has been flung mercilessly over people like the Holy Water of this loud and pungent religion.

We’re about 13 songs into Slipknot’s loud and corrosive set at Arena Birmingham and everyone’s nostrils are full of that strange, sickly aroma that should repulse us yet actually brings a sense of calm that others would take from being in a church. A real sense of belonging and safety.

And that feeling of safety fills you despite 12 six-foot-something, shirtless men bounding around in front of you. Their limbs flailing, eyes wide and wired and laughing manically, the latest circle pit threatens to engulf you and swirl you round in a tornado of semi-controlled madness that will disorientate and exhilarate you in equal measure.

The analogy works because for many, Slipknot are like a religion. They embody the nu metal craze that swept over from the States in the late '90s into the '00s and gave those who felt ostracized and outcast by mainstream society a therapeutic outlet.

Indeed, when frontman Corey Taylor stops to address the crowd, on more than one occasion he is met with the rhythmic screams of his name as fists are lofted high towards the leader of this crowds’ movement.

And it all started so badly.

The first three songs, Unsainted, Disasterpiece and Eeyore, were played through a sound system so bad that Taylor was lost amongst a wall of distorted, almost painful grating. You knew what the songs were, but they sounded like they were being played inside a giant tin can somewhere.

Then the band headed off for one of their many lights-dimmed-instrumental-whirring breaks, which paused the set at key pressure points and calmed the crowd, and when they returned the techies had saved the day.

Nero Forte exploded forth with guitars slashing and the eardrums thudded against your skull with the three-pronged percussion attack of Jay Weinberg, Clown and the mysterious new member fans have dubbed Tortilla Man at the forefront with that terrific interlude.

Before I Forget was an epic, arena-wide karaoke with middle fingers, fists, pointing or rock horns everywhere you looked while contorted faces screamed along. And just when you thought the crowd couldn’t get any more ramped up, a huge pit engulfed the middle of the room for Psychosocial.

The little breaks seemed to disrupt the set a little as we moved on and the pacing was sometimes affected as a result. A couple of people were disheartened that we seemed to lose about two songs’ worth of time by the end. But you couldn’t complain about what we were getting.

Clown, Tortilla Man and Sid were in mischievous mood and wound the crowd up as they couldn’t keep still. The quieter, moodier 133 and Mick just kept to their thing, while Taylor, Jim Root and Alessandro Venturella prowled the stage with the usual snarl and menace – the latter getting his trusty flamethrower out for the middle portion of the set.

Taylor played the crowd magnificently when he boomed: “I saw a lot of people b****ing that we didn’t play this at Download [Festival 2019], so here’s a song off our first album.” Then the band launched into Wait And Bleed and it…went…off. But that pit was bettered by one a couple of tracks later that came out for All Out Life with its deep, swirling sound.

Duality closed the main set off as people physically picked those next to them up and started bouncing while screaming “All I’ve got is insane” at people they may not have known an hour earlier.

And although they turned the volume up a bit for the encore which again distorted the sound, the trio of (sic), People = S*** and Surfacing with its screeching siren guitars had one last burst of energy. People somehow found one last puddle of sweat within their glands to eek out into the stale air around them.

Much like German counterparts Rammstein, Slipknot need to be seen more than words or pictures can truly capture them. “We’ve been going for 20 years,” growled Taylor. “Now here’s to 20 more.”