The past few years of encountering and seeing many new-to-me bands have certainly broadened my musical library, but it’s always good to revisit one’s old favourites when, time, inclination, and opportunity align. Such was the case with Ministry’s return to the capital on the second Monday of August, Mondays being nights-off for me, so off I went to see Al Jourgensen and his merry men.
I will admit to not being arsed about Ministry’s most recent output (i.e., anything after The Last Sucker), partly thanks to hearing that cringeworthy ‘Antifa’ song he put out in homage to the left wing of the establishment’s defacto foot soldiers; his full-chested Branch Covidian endorsement of vaccine mandates hasn’t helped either. Nevertheless, my love of their earlier material remains intact, and, in light of their stint at the Cruel World festival, where they performed material from their earliest two albums, the prospect of possibly hearing much loved tracks from With Sympathy and Twitch for the first time proved too enticing to resist.
And I’ll be damned if it wasn’t one of the best gig decisions I’ve ever made.
Prior to the payoff, however, came the supports, So-Cal black/doom/industrial-metal contingent Siglos, featuring one-time Ministry axeman Sin Quorin, and London industrial rockers Light of Eternity, featuring Killing Joke drummer and co-founder Big Paul Ferguson.
The former opened the night, making the ritualistic, atmospheric impression their blend of metal practically demands; with Mesoamerican aesthetic and Spanish-titled songs (‘En Resiliencia’, ‘Soga de los Muertos’, etc.) in tow, the Los Angeles troupe added more than an air of the exotic to proceedings. Vocalist Pedro Sanchez brings the bellows, accompanied nicely by Sin and co. on strings and sticks. Good start.
Next up came Light of Eternity with a set that I’d describe as uneven, starting well enough before dipping, evoking some heavy lidded moments, only to finish strong. Songs such as ‘Aftershock’, ‘Edge of Fate’, and ‘Fascist X’ carried power and punch beyond the lyrical, whereas more trippy numbers like ‘Vastness’ had me struggling to stay awake. One could argue they could have trimmed a bit of fat off the middle to maintain the pace, but at least they bookended strong.
Then came the main event, heralded by a graphic denunciation of Donald Trump, which, given how he’s abandoned his entertaining heel-crushing-heel ways to morph into the same old “respectable” political predator as the rest, I couldn’t be arsed to even roll my eyes at.
“This song is called ‘Thieves’,” Al said before he and the band launched into the opener of 1989’s The Mind Is a Terrible Thing to Taste in all its whirring, grunting, sampling magnificence—just what the doctor ordered! From then on, the band took the Brixton assembled on a recap of what made them such a vital and potent force in the realm of industrial metal, with classics like the ocularly fixated ‘Stigmata’, the sample-dominated Herbert Walker Bush loopfest of ‘NWO’, and the pounding, chugging menace of ‘Just One Fix’ justifying the entrance fee. Alongside these old-school staples were Dubya-era bangers like ‘Rio Grande Blood’ and Truther anthem ‘LiesLiesLies’ and even the odd post-Dubya ditty such as ‘Alert Level’ and ‘Goddamn White Trash’ (with that cringeworthy ‘Antifa’ song remaining mercifully absent).
But as awesome and affirming as it was to hear those reliable rivethead rifffests again, the real highlight of the night came in the form of the three-song encore showcasing material from their previously underacknowledged first two albums, their synthpop debut With Sympathy (1983) and its darker EBM follow-up Twitch (1986). The first two tracks from the former ‘Effigy (I’m Not An)’ and ‘Revenge’ closed the night in a non-obnoxiously remixed fashion, but for me, the absolute cherry atop this setlist sundae was finally, FINALLY, getting to hear one of my absolute fucking favourite Ministry tracks performed for the first time, the moody, pounding, (sadly) enduringly relevant Cold War anthem ‘We Believe’, its “Squirelly Remix” form sounding scarcely different from its first appearance on Twitch—thank fuck! (Who knew nuclear paranoia could be so euphoric?)
I could gripe about the absence of the likes of ‘Everyday Is Halloween’, ‘Burning Inside’, and other staples, but I’m sure they’ll be back the next time the Ministry machine rolls into town. As things went, this set managed the feat of being at once familiar and singular, delivering that not heard before, and possibly never to be heard again, alongside the relished reliables.
~MRDA~
Leave a Reply