Underoath [Live] @ Transmission Room

New Zealand 19.02.2009

February 25, 2009, 10:17 PM

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The first thing that hits after clambering down the Transmission Room stairwell is a blanket of heat that envelops everything it encounters. But it’s not the Auckland humidity that warmed up the dark little Queen St dungeon – it’s a fog of human sweat that’s so thick it’s like being immersed in a steam room fueled on forehead fluid. The walls are black and dimly illuminated in scarlet as strobes indiscriminately interrupt the darkness. The smell of the guy behind me is only alleviated by my own exhalation. Some people might think this is hell. I disagree. It was fantastic.

Underoath have only been to New Zealand once before tonight – two years ago, supporting Taking Back Sunday on the Taste of Chaos tour. I still remember my excitement that night as I finally got to see a band perform who’ve dominated my playlist for years. The sheer talent and raw passion of six guys giving everything they’ve got on stage. And this time they were headlining.

The set opened with In Regards to Myself, which kick-started an onslaught of melodic hardcore pandemonium. The crowd was thrashing; Spencer was screaming; and Aaron – that man is a machine. Only machines can’t make drums sound that great. It was a pity they didn’t put a light on him because watching Aaron Gillespie play is an amazing sight. But hearing him is even better.

Underoath know how to please a crowd. Not just sticking to their latest album, the band pulled out favourites from Define the Great Line and They’re Only Chasing Safety (though not going back any further than that). There was plenty of crowd sing-alongs, which may sound like an odd feature for a hardcore band unless you know their music. A Boy Brushed Red... was an obvious favourite; Desperate Times, Desperate Measures was fun. The crowd, though not the most intense I’ve seen (given the PG rating of the show – unfortunate in my opinion), still proved that It’s Dangerous Business Walking Out Your Front Door is an amazing track to hear live. Thrash pits opened up front and back and I even caught a glimpse of a guy being launched like a volleyball into the crowd. (Security had to flick on their flashlights to assess whether he’d landed it or fallen straight through). It wasn’t all screaming and shoving though – they brought it down for some slower ones and Spence even gave a short testimonial.

But then it all ended so quickly [which was a bit disappointing] – finishing off the set with Writing on the Walls before coming back for an obligatory two-song encore. I have to say at this point that I think encores are overdone. They shouldn’t be the norm. I’d much prefer a band to play an amazing full set that leaves the fans satisfied rather than presumptively scheduling an encore in on the set list. But that’s just me. (And let’s face it – they deserved the applause).

Actually, that brings me to another qualm: supporting bands. Underoath had three. I think one is good. Supporting bands exist to warm up the crowd for the show; they’re not to be confused with the show itself and the band everyone is actually there to see. Admittedly I missed two of the bands this evening when I turned up after 8:00 (which I thought was an appropriate time to attend a hardcore show but evidently this one started at 6:30). I had a chance to see Every Time I Die and will admit to not being a fan. They had a few excited devotees up the front but the sound quality was poor at best and lead singer Keith Buckley was on an ego trip: “You guys are awesome; we know we’re awesome – that goes without saying”. If it goes without saying, Keith, you could havve just not said it!

But the show was Underoath's and we all knew it. They were exhausted (after their flight time was doubled on them) and possibly dehydrated but they weren’t about to let down their fans in the sold-out venue. And though the all ages show ended at only 11:00 (it was like the Goodnight Kiwi had had a say in the matter: “parents, do you know where your children are?”), we all left feeling “hardcore” – ears ringing and foreheads dripping. I had to peel my t-shirt off with BBQ tongs and sterilize it just to get away from the smell. But the music will linger with me. Ahh. Worth it.

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