A wall of adoring eyes surrounds me – staring up in awestruck wonder, puncturing sheets of mosh-matted fringe, writes Francis Brian.
Each beady pupil darts quickly to capture the spectacle of neurotic writhing on display. The unadulterated innocence of simple thrash-rock worship.
Tattooed arms flail wildly as LostAlone beat the stage mercilessly into submission. Blood Is Sharp and Vesuvius leave it cowering in fear, covered with aching purple bruises.
Derby's most hallowed sons are reacquainting themselves, and their old turf is greener than ever.
But the Kerrang! mainstays must savour every cheer, scream and sweat-drop gathered tonight. Hometown offerings thrive on a precious elixir which is replicated numbly in unfamiliar venues. LostAlone are not playing to an audience this evening, they are here as members of a community – brought together by deafening barrages of glam-metal magic. Three local boys lifting the city off its feet, just as the bustling streets carried them through adolescence.
The set-list leaps from haunting sorrow to raw, skull-shaking elation – moulding the vibe with fickle guitar-flicks. Creatures opens up rich veins of manic gospel warbling, before the blistering temperature of Put Pain To Paper descends like a raging fireball. Their delicate qualities shelter from an avalanche of apocalyptic riffs – providing deep layers of skilled musicianship when the carnage momentarily subsides. Onlookers are left dizzy as they spin on a carousel of tempo-changes, but they love every minute of it.
Frontman Steven Battelle greedily eats up the rapturous euphoria which meets each little twist – a familiar sight which has left towns nationwide clamouring to host the hysteria.
LostAlone have returned triumphantly to claim the site that taught their trade.
They left as nameless dreamers, but stand here now living their vision.
These gothic princes dared to face the world with an arsenal of anarchic anthems, and are now reaping substantial rewards.
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