Live Review: Converge, Sydney

by Poppy Reid

Saturday February 16
Manning Bar, Sydney, NSW

Returning to the same haunt they annihilated in 2010, Massachusetts band Converge reiterated their strong position on Saturday night as one of the most progressive bands in the hardcore genre.

Satiating fans at the Manning Bar with a predominantly ‘favourites’ filled set – No heroes, All We Love We Leave Behind, Dark Horse and Axe To Fall - singer Jacob Bannon let his gravelly voice take over, his movements and the crowd controlled by an inner vice of his own making.

“It's fucking awesome to be this far from home and see so many people come out to hear the noise that we're making,” he said, spreading his fingers tight and wide.

Having set the gratuitous tone for the evening, Bannon, Viking-sized guitarist/producer Kurt Ballou, bassist Nate Newton (who had just performed a full set minutes earlier with Old Man Doom) and manic stickman Ben Koller seared into a show that was as much about their zealots as it was about cementing their place on the pedestal they’d made home.

“It's like fucking playing to convicts,” laughed Bannon when the crowd endeavoured to dictate the setlist. As the fervent heat of final track The Broken Vow - from fourth record Jane Doe - sunk into the skin of his criminal followers it was clear they’d start a riot if he so wanted one. But that would never cross his mind; the nihilistic qualities of their songs and performances are equally met with as much passion for humanity and the hope for the ones who inspired even their most heart-bleeding lyric.

“What? Why are you so angry?,” he laughed. “Who didn't hug you?”

“This song’s about love. Last Light.”

Straight into the encore, the track was as bloody as it was soulful; Bannon pounded his fist to his head as lyrics like “I need you to be the might of their first kiss,” pounded through ours.

The crowd cheered for minutes after the final note, letting the house lights dry their sweat. Koller walked to the front of the stage to throw his sticks, shake hands and scold security.

“Hey security there's no need to punch kid in the fucking stomach,” he bellowed into Newton’s mic. “Don't do that.”

Converge are well aware of just who they are, and at this point in their career - 23 years in with album #8 forcing fans to bow down even further, noses to the dirt - they're still pushing the envelope, offering a more crisp intention of past distinctions.