ARCHITECTS // Princes of Heaven

ARCHITECTS with Ocean Grove + Gravemind – The Prince of Wales Bandroom, Melbourne – 3 May, 2017

You could tell who’d seen Ocean Grove before and who hadn’t. Those who had stood up front, moshing as if it would rip open a portal to Odd World itself. Everyone else hung back, peering over shoulders like they were bracing for a Narnian faun stampede.

Vocalist Luke Holmes put in a belting, carbless performance, ripping through a Running Touch-less Thunderdome. Half way through, shit got serious. We saw him shedding white puffy jacket to reveal an op-shop vintage Aerosmith T-shirt. Shitty Gallagher/bassist Dale Tanner’s tribute to every weird kid in a 90s movie in Intimate Alien ever sent bodies flailing atop an ocean of hands. I gotta admit, I wish some antenna-armed kid could lift my frame aloft for an airborne helping of These Boys Light Fires. Unfortunately I’m too fat. And ugly. And tired. Fuck me, Ocean Grove are gonna be YUGE!

From the lofty heights of Festival Hall to the tight confines of the Prince Bandroom come Architects. We’re not treated to a curtain drop like other, much larger, venues as Nihilist kicks off, but the audience have no reserves screaming “All our gods have abandoned us” all the same. It’s the first time Melbourne has had a chance to experience All Our Gods Have Abandoned Us material live, and the reception of Deathwish and Downfall is on par with that of Lost Forever//Lost Together material three years ago.

Through every song, every scream and every bone-shaking, soul-rattling riff, [Architects] make good on their promise to their lost brother. Where they go from here is uncertain, but it’s clear the fans will follow.

It’s no surprise that Sam Carter’s vocals haven’t wavered. He’s at the top of the metalcore game with absolute ease, and it shows in blistering choruses like Broken Cross and Gravity. The latter’s blur between screams and singing would likely falter in the hands of anyone less capable. In Carter’s, they sound the same as on record. Although his mic cuts out for a portion of A Match Made In Heaven, the song hardly suffers. The distinctive guitar riff calls forth the biggest pit of the evening; no small feat in a room that’s packed to the sides already.

The elephant in the room is addressed before the band perform their final farewell. The crowd watch on in silence as Carter tells us of their appreciation for allowing them to return after the death of former guitarist Tom Searle. After last year’s jaunt with Bring Me The Horizon had to be cut short due to vocalist Oli Sykes’ illness, it meant that fans were unable to tell their idols just how much they appreciate them (save a fan meet at 24hundred). Now, standing so close, the crowd were finally allowed to pay their proper respects. As Carter fought back tears, a rare silence is broken for a few (hopefully) well meaning interruptions of “ARCHITECTS” and “YEAH BOYS”; although if a man is discussing his best friend—fuck that, his brother—who’s passed, maybe it’s best to let him finish hey? (You stupid assholes!) A lengthy wave of admiration does eventually overwhelm the room, as cheers and applause thunder.

Gone With The Wind has taken on such significance in the Architects discography, there’s enormous pressure to fulfil expectations. Not to overshadow the perfectly timed snare hits of drummer Dan Searle, but it truly is Carter who shines. Taking a step back and allowing the crowd to sing the final chorus gives Gone With The Wind another element of significance.

Architects threaten us so soundly with a good time, the pall of Tom Searle’s cruel departure all but evaporates. Through every song, every scream and every bone-shaking, soul-rattling riff, they make good on their promise to their lost brother. Where they go from here is uncertain, but it’s clear the fans will follow.