Rocker (feedbot)
Gold Member
“It’s sold out…like, really sold out,” says the slightly worn steward on the stairs, dodging between torrents of eager fans in faded black t-shirts. Rise Against have been making biennial trips to these shores for a long time now, this time sprinkling two UK dates into their European festival run, and our appetite for the Fat Wreck alumni’s palatable politics grows with each visit. After twenty plus years in the punk rock music business, the lads from Chicago know exactly how to land an emotional blow in between the choppy catch-and-release melodies we love.
Invisible magnetic pulses sweep through the earth as ‘Satellite’ rings out, its melody an instant boost calmly generated through lyrical utopia. Guitarist Zac Blair leans back and stretches, awkwardly windmilling. While Rise Against must have earned “rock star” status by now, they never seem entirely comfortable with their status as a headlining band. Later, frontman Tim McIlrath will fondly recall seeing Soundgarden legend Chris Cornell at this same venue as a child, seemingly unaware that he’s now become the same formative memory for many of the kids in the crowd.
Someone holds up a cardboard sign, trying to catch McIlrath’s attention. It’s their eighth time seeing Rise Against on this tour, and they’ve come all the way from Aruba to make this quest. The vocalist looks puzzled for a second, then acknowledges the islanders’ dedication by sending ‘Give It All’ out to the “hardcore Rise Against fans.” Years have worn down the edges of the song’s grit but done little to a melody sweetened with sweat. In the rough, crumbling breakdown, McIlrath leans over the grasping crowd magnetically drawn to his presence and has to be held back, dying to connect to us. ‘Under The Knife’s rougher street punk feels like perpetual motion, with its triumphant loop back onto the chorus. All the songs are longer live, played with, stretched and switched around to create tiny, absorbing narratives that capture us again and again, minute by minute.
They dedicate ‘Make It Stop (September’s Children)’ to the “Pride community in and around London,” the piercing blade of the backing vocals twisting inside, revealing a deep seated hope birthed by pain that taps into and reconstitutes deeper truths. A splintering callout signals the start of ‘Re-Education (Through Labour)’, a song underlined and emboldened in scarlet and violet as the cement of the guitar line smashes into claps and a timeless solo, swooping in and out of view. ‘Help Is On The Way’s regretful tone and piercing open shriek leads into ‘Ready To Fall’s hits of despair that clutch at more, leaving behind a softness in each departing wave.
The Easter Eggs for the faithful start to be unearthed before our eyes as the show reaches the halfway point. Including an acoustic section into a punk show is practically mandatory at this point, but just because it’s become expected, doesn’t mean it’s not also a delight. McGrath introduces ‘Hero Of War’ as “a quiet song, but we can make it loud.” His encouragement is taken to heart, its clipped lines flying the flag of friendship aloft under a breeze which stirs us all into a building, swirling microcosm of everything that’s good about resistance, tangible determination poured into each line. “The people in your life are more important the weather,” he reminds us before ‘Swing Your Life Away’s beautiful windward nostalgia drifts into moments of stillness. He makes a mistake on the bridge and apologises, announcing that, “my pinkie is now bleeding,” before offering to re-do the section he felt wasn’t perfect. We didn’t even notice, enjoying the soft opening of a window into what could have been. Following with a “new song from a whole new record” (the long-rumoured tenth studio album, which the sages of the internet prophesise will arrive soon) feels like a reward. ‘Want It All’ feels more galvanising, cutting between past and future at whiplash speed, each role more evenly combined rather than given a second in the spotlight to hint at a deceptively harmonious new direction for the band.
Not a second onstage is wasted. “This song is for the the survivors,” calls McIlrath, starting a roughly threaded connection between cities of clarions on ‘Survive’, each line a fish hook in our skin keeping us in the scene. ‘Audience Of One’ changes mood as it grows, flowering into a formally arranged tribute despite the jaggedness around the punk edges which are stirred into infinity by our desperately outstretched hands. Life is fleeting and so are life affirming cathartic songs like this. In many ways, closer ‘Saviour’ is a perfect summary for the night: a simple opening erupts into a bouncing, whirling spectacle of celebration that sends endless crowd surfers over the barriers. It also feels unfinished, like ending a sentence on an ellipsis, but that’s a positive. The band have all but confirmed there is a new album on the way, and the prevailing sense that this show is a stopgap until something bigger happens makes this little pit stop in west London a treasured pause in the irresistible climb of Rise Against.
Kate Allvey
Invisible magnetic pulses sweep through the earth as ‘Satellite’ rings out, its melody an instant boost calmly generated through lyrical utopia. Guitarist Zac Blair leans back and stretches, awkwardly windmilling. While Rise Against must have earned “rock star” status by now, they never seem entirely comfortable with their status as a headlining band. Later, frontman Tim McIlrath will fondly recall seeing Soundgarden legend Chris Cornell at this same venue as a child, seemingly unaware that he’s now become the same formative memory for many of the kids in the crowd.
Someone holds up a cardboard sign, trying to catch McIlrath’s attention. It’s their eighth time seeing Rise Against on this tour, and they’ve come all the way from Aruba to make this quest. The vocalist looks puzzled for a second, then acknowledges the islanders’ dedication by sending ‘Give It All’ out to the “hardcore Rise Against fans.” Years have worn down the edges of the song’s grit but done little to a melody sweetened with sweat. In the rough, crumbling breakdown, McIlrath leans over the grasping crowd magnetically drawn to his presence and has to be held back, dying to connect to us. ‘Under The Knife’s rougher street punk feels like perpetual motion, with its triumphant loop back onto the chorus. All the songs are longer live, played with, stretched and switched around to create tiny, absorbing narratives that capture us again and again, minute by minute.
They dedicate ‘Make It Stop (September’s Children)’ to the “Pride community in and around London,” the piercing blade of the backing vocals twisting inside, revealing a deep seated hope birthed by pain that taps into and reconstitutes deeper truths. A splintering callout signals the start of ‘Re-Education (Through Labour)’, a song underlined and emboldened in scarlet and violet as the cement of the guitar line smashes into claps and a timeless solo, swooping in and out of view. ‘Help Is On The Way’s regretful tone and piercing open shriek leads into ‘Ready To Fall’s hits of despair that clutch at more, leaving behind a softness in each departing wave.
The Easter Eggs for the faithful start to be unearthed before our eyes as the show reaches the halfway point. Including an acoustic section into a punk show is practically mandatory at this point, but just because it’s become expected, doesn’t mean it’s not also a delight. McGrath introduces ‘Hero Of War’ as “a quiet song, but we can make it loud.” His encouragement is taken to heart, its clipped lines flying the flag of friendship aloft under a breeze which stirs us all into a building, swirling microcosm of everything that’s good about resistance, tangible determination poured into each line. “The people in your life are more important the weather,” he reminds us before ‘Swing Your Life Away’s beautiful windward nostalgia drifts into moments of stillness. He makes a mistake on the bridge and apologises, announcing that, “my pinkie is now bleeding,” before offering to re-do the section he felt wasn’t perfect. We didn’t even notice, enjoying the soft opening of a window into what could have been. Following with a “new song from a whole new record” (the long-rumoured tenth studio album, which the sages of the internet prophesise will arrive soon) feels like a reward. ‘Want It All’ feels more galvanising, cutting between past and future at whiplash speed, each role more evenly combined rather than given a second in the spotlight to hint at a deceptively harmonious new direction for the band.
Not a second onstage is wasted. “This song is for the the survivors,” calls McIlrath, starting a roughly threaded connection between cities of clarions on ‘Survive’, each line a fish hook in our skin keeping us in the scene. ‘Audience Of One’ changes mood as it grows, flowering into a formally arranged tribute despite the jaggedness around the punk edges which are stirred into infinity by our desperately outstretched hands. Life is fleeting and so are life affirming cathartic songs like this. In many ways, closer ‘Saviour’ is a perfect summary for the night: a simple opening erupts into a bouncing, whirling spectacle of celebration that sends endless crowd surfers over the barriers. It also feels unfinished, like ending a sentence on an ellipsis, but that’s a positive. The band have all but confirmed there is a new album on the way, and the prevailing sense that this show is a stopgap until something bigger happens makes this little pit stop in west London a treasured pause in the irresistible climb of Rise Against.
Kate Allvey