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So, where better to start than Witch Fever? The Manchester-based quartet can be described as doom-punk and are named after the mass hysteria of 17th-century witch trials. This is because many look upon the events as a widespread attempt to suppress disobedient women, something that Amy-Hope Walpole, Alex Thompson, Alisha Yarwood and Annabelle Joyce rebel against in their themes. After several stints supporting bands like Nova Twins, My Chemical Romance and Volbeat, the band are back for a headlining slot this time, hot off the heels of their sophomore album ‘FEVEREATEN’’s autumnal release. It’s a return to gear yourselves up for.
To see how much Witch Fever have grown, I set off for an unusually sunny Hackney. It felt wrong to attend such a gig without coming in goth attire, no matter how out of place I felt on the Elizabeth Line. Foolish concerns, really, because the Underground’s unspoken rule seems to be “don’t ask, don’t tell”, like some sort of commuter mafia. All this faded to the white noise of the brain when I remembered the night ahead, however.
The venue itself was a two-storey pub named Oslo. Although this prompted confusing Google results about the capital of Norway, I found myself at ease in its bar. All the soft lighting and brown armchairs didn’t exactly scream punk venue, then a sign directed us upstairs into a much smaller room. Crowds began to slowly fill up the dark walls, absorbing the air-con breeze, until we became a school of sweaty sardines.
That night, Witch Fever treated us to two openers of their choosing. The first was a confident group of Brighton lads called City Dog, who stormed around the stage with an air of bravado. Their lead singer was keen to play the beginnings of our crowd, shouting little interludes. Before one song, he quips that it’s called ‘I Might Die’, about the time the group “almost died”. He earned a few chuckles and rhythmic head nods.
Special mention must absolutely go to the second opener, the delightful Knives. I must admit it’s been a long time since I saw a hardcore group use the saxophone or throw myself into a mosh pit. During this short set, both objectives were squashed. I couldn’t help but hand my bag to my friend and go all guns blazing into the centre, after a few of their songs. Every member seemed to be having the time of their lives.
Then, to an uproar of applause, came the main event. I’ve seen Witch Fever about three times now. They’ve got better each round.
Under a haze of smoke machines and flickering light, the band launched into ‘Dead To Me’, the new album’s first single. It’s nothing short of electric in live form, elevated by Joyce’s rolling drums. That screamed chorus packs an even greater punch when fans join in. Around 300 or so people are all headbanging with glee. My own neck was considerably sore the next day after such enthusiasm.
Walpole, as frontwoman, is undeniably mesmerising. She leaps and swirls around the stage with a relentless wolf-like energy and the formidable grace of a warrior. This is only enhanced by the streaks of red makeup on her chin and temples, shining dark under the lights. Slower tracks become an eerie siren-song for the damned, while the heaviest feel like a well-earned battle cry. Both her guttural howls and light melisma pierced that thick air, along with a powerful speech of anti-fascism. The audience was spellbound.
Setlist-wise, the new releases dominate, giving Witch Fever a solid chance to show off the new material. ‘AMBER’ sounds particularly haunting, while ‘SAFE’ still stands out as an album highlight to me. It’s lyrically moving, and both Yarwood and Thompson undercut with striking bass and guitar. The two remain in top form with their respective stringed instruments, surprising no one who’s attended previous shows. Witch Fever is a band of strong links, all performing to the same high standard.
Space is given to old favourites, however, with ‘Blessed Be Thy’ striking a particular chord. This track of religious fury propelled me back to that pit, only to find myself pushed so hard that I went flying across the room with a grin on my face. That breakdown never gets any less dynamic.
After peaking the encore with a new outro cry of “Witch F***ing Fever!”, the band jumped back on for a final cover of Deftones’ ‘My Own Summer (Shove It)’, which gets the old metalheads going to full degree. To me, there’s something sacred in the crowds of punk gigs. I see various generations of listeners all clubbing together to stick it to the system, in the age-old way. I know new worlds opened for me among fuzz pedals and spilt pints, that first time. Witch Fever took me back, to remind myself who I can be.
Sofia Neal
Image: Pearl Cook
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