It’s taken some time for An Axe to wield their sound. Since they formed they’ve sung hymnals from the crypt of an abandoned church, tinkered with tailors and even approached a Roy Orbison croon. Now they stand squarely in the path of a genre few have attempted before – their macabre howl has met its match in slightly delusional hillbilly rock. There’s even shrieking, and everything.
Tonight’s set at The Fleece does little to document An Axe’s shift in style; it’s more of an unashamed lurch into current proceedings. Their earlier songs don’t make the grade out of necessity – following the departure of their keyboardist last year they’ve had to plant their feet firmly on saltier soil.
The unpredicted change was good for them. Opener “Coax the Drowners” spits and curdles across the nearly barren venue, enticing an audience out of The Fleece’s brickwork. Few embrace the music enough to stand within close proximity of the stage, but that’s not for lack of support –
mutterings of approval cling to the bar like a mist. By the time An Axe play their new single “Love, My Evil” people are positively whooping, though they bizarrely remain at the back of the crowd.
Previously their musical leanings were tricky to pin down, but tonight’s set establishes, confirms and reconfirms the trio’s direction. Though they fail to have their audience swinging from the rafters – as is often the case in The Fleece – their image as a band on the cusp of national recognition is clear. They’re certainly ready to release an album, and it won’t be long before a crowd control barrier is needed.
