Gallows, ABC, Glasgow

Perhaps the most worthy dedication is one for the security; for most of the set Carter is like a rabid dog that has been let off its leash.

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Date: 9 May 2009 | By Chris Cope | Rating: 4
Gallows, ABC, Glasgow

"It's like walking into MySpace" my friend says as we step into one of Glasgow's more glorious venues, with a gargantuan disco ball hanging from the roof. Tonight, Gallows top the bill and they seem to have attracted a colourful cross-section of the music scene along with them, fringes included. There's the hair-straightened emos, the indie boys standing at the back, the sweaty metallers and even a chav-tastic teenager who gets thrown out of the mosh-pit by a bald security man for being a bit of a nuisance.

One of the highlights of tonight isn't Frank Carter and co. however, it is their main support act Every Time I Die. They muscle their way through a strong set that fizzes with Southern-metal gusto, with the effervescent 'We'rewolf' a barnstorming opener. Frontman Keith Buckley belies his English teacher past as he stumbles around with plaid-shirted rock-star aplomb and at one point belches proudly into the mic ("I'm allowed to - I'm in Scotland"). They seem to like to spit a lot, often back into their own mouths. Nice. Coming from America, one hopes they aren't gleefully drizzling the air with swine-flu infested saliva, but who cares when the music is this good.

But tonight most of the friend-requesting, photo-commenting MySpace degenerates are here to see Gallows. Greyed-out Union Jacks are draped over two speaker stacks, giving a visual element to 'Grey Britain''s grimy view of this great country. This whole ethos extends across the whole of what Gallows are about - it is dirty music, sludgy and brash. Most of the colour on show here is in Carter's white t-shirt, which after lashings of sweat no doubt, will come off post-show a slightly more soiled hue. To the music then, with 'London Is The Reason' a blast of metal-punk bombast which Carter renames 'Glasgow Is The Reason' before launching into the despair-filled lyrics: "We are the rats and we run this town, we are the black plague bearing down". 'Leeches' features some of the punk energy that is a mainstay of their cross-over appeal, whilst 'I Dread The Night' is similarly an infectious little number worthy of attention.

It is clear Carter likes his dedications. One goes out to followers of various religions who believe you're saved when you die: "you don't, you rot in the ground" he says, risking ostracising those of faith in the venue, while another goes out the 12-year-old passed out, covered in vomit lying at a bus stop outside the venue. But perhaps the most worthy dedication is one for the security; for most of the set Carter is like a rabid dog that has been let off its leash. At one point he races a fellow band-member to the bar, hurdling seemingly insurmountable barriers, nudging me out of the way before standing emphatically on the bar. He beat his band-mate, and the crowd's arses too - anyone who had been doubters of this band and their live show, be it indie kids or long-haired metal devotees, are now won over. And to truly convert the masses, they launch into old favourite 'In The Belly Of A Shark', with the entire floor mesmerisingly awash with movement. Later, Carter bemoans the press and unpleasant things they sometimes say about his band, before explaining how everyone that goes to a Gallows show always has a darn good time. And I agree Mr. Carter, I agree.