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The Electric Ballroom tonight plays host to the
titans of nu-pop-punk Sum 41, and with the bouncers
having more trouble shooing off boozing louts outside than with the pre-pubescent rebels entering it, tonight will mostly go down
as their least eventful gig yet.
As the merchandise stall is flooded by parents
writing cheques, yes cheques, to pay for their
offspring's new Sum 41 trucker caps, warm up act
Viking Skull take the stage in front of a
somewhat impatient Ballroom.
If The Darkness are Thin Lizzy for
the new millennium, then Viking Skull are out
to make a quick buck on AC/DC's back. With
blues metal at its most basic (and best!) the motley
crew of Raging Speedhorn members and other
assorted northern degenerates play a most impressive
set, with Sum 41 guitarist Brownsound standing side
stage and grinning like a Cheshire cat throughout.
Then it's time for the headliners. The Canadian quartet rattle through classic anthems
such as Suddenly and Over My Head with the kind of
infectious gaiety that has ensured them the multi-platinum pedestal they now possess. By the time the
boys get around to what is ultimately the point of
tonight's pre-album release gig in the form of new
single We're All To Blame, the crowd is suitably
primed for what is a more metallic sounding, grown up
lyrical content than their previous efforts.
At first it was no more than a sneaking suspicion
that this new found maturity may have blown straight
over the pint sized audiences heads, but when frontman Deryck Whibley dedicates Moron to G.W. Bush and proceeds to attack
the leader of his neighbouring nation through a deadly
combination of power chords and cheeky cuss words, it
was clear that the little runts could've been jumping
around to pro-war propaganda and they would've been
none the wiser.
But parents are a little harder to fool as Welcome
to Hell proves, with Whibley proclaiming his twisted
sexual fantasies towards the Prince of Darkness as
countless chaperones reach to cover their little
darlings ears in shock. As if feeling the tension in
the air, the mischievous four quickly slip back into
expected territory with Makes No Difference and Fat
Lip getting things nice and sweaty again.
Still Waiting provides my personal high point of
the evening with pop punk power at its very best, and
then the candle of hope in the future of rock is
relentlessly crushed as the band drop into Rage
Against The Machine's Bombtrack and everyone
starts scratching their head wondering which Sum 41
album it is on. Woe is me. The encore consists of the
ever amusing Pain for Pleasure and old favourite
Bitter End, which it was indeed.
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