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With the demeanour of a pissed off teenager, the deranged and cranky hardcore outfit Frank Carter and the Rattlesnakes brought their ‘Modern Ruin’ tour to the humble Wedgewood Rooms for a night of pure theatricality and madness. 

Attempting to ready the crowd for the anarchy entailed when seeing the infamous Frank Carter in the flesh, Strange Bones provided a possessed and unruly ramshackle set which saw their lead singer walk ruthlessly through the crowd ready to stir up a reaction (albeit to no avail). Yonaka followed, and perhaps mellowed the tone of the evening in comparison to the raging force of the previous support act, providing more subtle anger, while holding all the pretence of a great rock band.

Clocking in shortly after, Frank Carter and the Rattlesnakes bustled their way onto the stage and into a grapple with a sold-out crowd. Intensity at a peak, the Rattlesnakes opened up with Snake Eyes, which saw an immediate frenzy amongst the audience with arms flailing just about everywhere. Straight into Trouble, and Juggernaut, the Pompey lot had already summoned crowdsurfers and screeching singalongs, with Frank Carter and the Rattlesnakes viciously feeding off the energy.

Inciting an all-female crowdsurf extravaganza for Modern Ruin, the united force of the Rattlesnakes and the audience was one not to be reckoned with. The Frank Carter machine kept working, and Wild Flowers, Vampires, and Jackals left barely any chance for a breather amongst the clambering fans. 

Allowing for a quasi-rest, Thunder‘s reverb drenched manner brought proceedings to a rare chilled moment before Frank Carter rallied the crowd up again for a furiously well-received rendition of Fangs. Enacting a cinematic ending to their main set, the Rattlesnakes played out God Is My Friend and Neon Rust. 

The ability for Frank Carter and the Rattlesnakes to have complete control over the audience is something to envy. From requesting help for his strained vocals, to silence for tender encore number Bluebelle, Frank Carter is quite the frontman. 

The anger seeping through every note from Frank Carter and the Rattlesnakes is genuine, and the array of fans clearly feel it too; the malicious shouting along to I Hate You, and the merciless moshpits during Lullaby demonstrate an angry unit of fans and musicians, set to blow every other politicised band out of the water. 

Words by Jasmin Robinson

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