Those who do security when the Bronx come to town must feel they've drawn the short straw.
Not only was the Los Angeles group's lead singer Matt Caughthran prone to lurching into the crowd from the stage, he also encouraged the audience to make the reverse journey. At one point he mentioned how "on some nights, security can get by on intimidation", before provoking a host of bodies to surf forward in energetic defiance.
Such liveliness may make the bouncers' jobs harder, but it also showcased the Bronx's continued good health. Ten years and four albums into their career (plus two records as the Mariachi El Bronx side-project) there remains a vitality about the fivesome, with Caughthran a cheerful catalyst. A stream of between-song banter was consistently entertaining, with the zeal of a preacher and the trash-talking self-confidence of a show-boating professional wrestler.
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His attitude when singing was that of an excitable, easily enraged bear, which admittedly meant several songs appeared to have a chorus simply consisting of "BLARGGH" being screamed. However, the Bronx have more weapons than simple aggression, weaving a route back to the gutter-trash melodies of the New York Dolls and the Stooges. There were some dirty blues underpinning Rape Zombie, an enormous soaring chorus on Youth Wasted and some brilliant guitar work during White Guilt.
All were loud and fast, of course, but the band also understand how to pace matters, and the set breezed by in an hour, mostly sidestepping any repetition. Caughthran ensured energy levels were always high, and versions of They Will Kill Us All and Heart Attack American burned with an anger that age has not calmed in the slightest.