Live Review: Mastodon, Caligula's Horse

The back-to-work blues have been shelved tonight as bodies amble in and fill large sections of the room for prog metallers Caligula’s Horse. The hometown openers warm things up with intricate arrangements that, for a lot of the time, are mixed a bit too far towards the bottom end, rendering some of Jim Grey’s lofty warbles a bit thin and dulling the edges of the complex guitar work with bass fuzz. By the time closer, A Gift To Afterthought, comes around the sound has settled somewhat, revealing peaky guitars, clipped chugs, arrhythmic snapbacks and Geoff Irish’s pin-point-perfect kit work. Tech issues aside, to find themselves in the support slot for arguably one of present-day progressive rock’s biggest names is no small feat. Wherever these five bearded lads go from here can only be a step in the right direction.

By now things are a tad more sweaty and squishy as rabid devotees flock to the front and more staid fans fill the surrounds. All eyes flit to the stage when the lights dim and the Mastodon men stride on, getting straight down to business with riff-laden newbie Tread Lightly. There are two factors surrounding tonight’s show that have piqued energy levels: the first is that these guys are only a short way into this latest international tour – in fact our lucky country is their first stop – and the second is that this is Mastodon’s first non-festival headline show in our fair city, so the hunger for the four-piece is palpable. Once More ‘Round The Sun, Blasteroid and Oblivion, with its sludgey groove in the mid section, all work their magic as all three guitarists step up for vocal duties. Drummer Brann Dailor takes over the mic and juggles it with his fill-heavy kitwork in The Motherload as bodies get airborne during Brent Hinds’ mind-blowing shredding. Bassist Troy Sanders quivers like a madman in the banjo-prefaced Divinations, before Black Tongue, Ember City and Blood And Thunder bring things to a close. There are no negatives to cite; not only are the guys seemingly loving it, picking out faces in the crowd and singing along with them, but their almost mathematical precision in wrangling melodic chug-filled riffs and dizzying time changes is mesmerising, utterly and completely.

There is no gimmickry, no gadgets, no encore. A solid light show, yes, but for a band of this calibre, experience, status, they’re still just a bunch of dudes from Atlanta that love rock and clearly love the way we rock with them. A sweaty and red-faced Dailor chucks some sticks and says the last goodbye, giving voice to the disbelief that it’s taken this long for Mastodon to headline their own show here. With appetites sated, for now, the wait will be on for their next visit.