Live Review: Kyser Soze, Daemon Pyre, Vyrion

"A night of pure hatred amongst friends," reads the gig flyer. It's a juxtaposition that encapsulates the essence of the metal oh so accurately.

Vyrion take the already gloomy vibe of Crowbar and submerge it into all-out darkness. The crowd is small-but-mighty and the initial mix does the band no favours, but once the sound is fixed and a stream of black shirts begins to trickle into the room a refined show is produced. Although the group is a product of Queensland, their quality of songwriting is something straight out of Scandinavia. The sound sits at in the cross-section of various metal sub-genres, with the guitars unleashing some seriously demonic, Dark Funeral-esque riffs. The band's fury and depth comes from well-balanced vocals that feature both screams and growls, all driven by the backbone of any really heavy outfit - a tonne of rapidfire double kick and blast beats.

Making the trip from Sydney, Daemon Pyre waste no time kicking into gear. A brutal growl emanates from vocalist Sam Rilatt as he takes total command of the stage and crowd alike, beer gut and all. The band is in keeping with the theme that's emerging for the night: sounds that sit at a perfect junction of styles. There's thrashiness and pace from some metalcore-ish sections, harmonised guitar melodies, guttural growls with some seriously impressive depth and, of course, the odd ambient interlude. Like Warnie at an open bar, it's an impressive display of carnage.

Kyser Soze don't mess about. It's straight into the onslaught with these guys. The four-piece are home after showing Melbourne how heavy is done up north and, if this set is any indicator, there aren't many better bands to have flying the flag for QLD metal. There's some seriously skillful musicianship on display throughout the whole set. This level of aggression and auditory battering takes a hell of a lot of musical proficiency and to be able to execute it as tightly as these guys do is a real feat. Don't let their skill give the impression that this is self-indulgent, though; the songs find an excellent blend of million-miles-an-hour assaults and ominous, doomy parts that have a scent of Sweden's Hypocrisy to them. It's the perfect soundtrack to do your neck exercises to.

All in all, it's a brutal showcase of some underrated Aussie metal acts, with plenty of "pure hatred amongst friends". Knowing that they are supporting killer musicians, who are putting on a killer show and doing what they do purely as a labour of love, the whole crowd leaves with the warm-and-fuzzies — or maybe that's the Crowbar Lager doing its thing.