LIVE FROM THE PIT: I Promised The World, Rosasharin and Between Machine & Me
Texan post-hardcore outfit I PROMISED THE WORLD packed out Boom in Leeds on Friday evening, to a crowd that had very clearly dressed for the occasion. White studded belts, scene hair, gaudy graphic tees and skinny jeans were everywhere, and walking in felt like stepping into a time machine. This, it seems, is the new br00tal uniform – and if you don’t get it by now, you are massively behind on the times within the culture.
Boom is an extremely beloved name in the hardcore scene, and it is always brilliant to see it packed to the rafters. The crowd was made up mainly of young people clambering to the front, whilst a handful of grown-up emo millennials observed from the sides (perhaps reliving a version of their youth they thought was long gone). The night felt like a pocket of time that has since passed, with brand new music at its heart. I PROMISED THE WORLD brought together post-hardcore nostalgia and the modern scene, with no 2000s rehash in sight.
North Texas five-piece ROSASHARIN opened the night with their latest single, Between Machine & Me, and were incredibly energetic from the very first note. It is so refreshing to see a young band going all out, with the room becoming overwhelmingly hot and sweaty in minutes. Their set felt like seeing grainy MySpace footage, but in 24K resolution: all the raw emotion of that era, rendered in startling clarity. Within the pit, the crowd matched them with the kind of violence you only get in these spaces. Watching somebody take a genuinely brutal hit, stagger back up and carry on grinning with no malice towards the perpetrator is something truly special. The new wave of hardcore and youth culture – encapsulated in one tiny room.
Before I PROMISED THE WORLD had even taken the stage, they were already goading the crowd forwards as they set up: ‘If you’re too scared to get close, then go home’. The set itself was easily one of the most chaotic ways to have ever spent approximately half an hour. It was so immersive and full of energy that it was surreal to remember which era we were standing in. They opened with Weather to Believe, in which the audience wasted no time in bringing the room to life. Countless people immediately hurled themselves towards the stage to grab the mic and stagedive – rather akin to watching salmon attempting to swim upstream. At the centre of it all was vocalist Hunter Wilson, leaping around with completely unhinged energy and never standing still once. It was obvious from the start that this was going to be a set where absolutely no one got away with standing at the back and nodding politely.
If the opening song was a warning shot, then Beloved, Proud and A Pure Expression were the full-scale assault that followed. The pit became a whirlwind of flailing limbs and hardcore dancing, anyone not caught in its churn was bouncing on the spot, bellowing every lyric back at the band with voices already half-gone. Stagedivers soared onto the platform in such relentless numbers that the band were eventually forced to plead with the crowd to steer clear of their instruments.
Then came a curveball. Hunter launched into a bewildering tangent about his disdain for certain bottle caps, a ramble so absurd that it only made the sharp turn into Don’t Just Stand There more jarring. The room changed in an instant. It was obvious how much weight the song carried for the people in it – arms raised high and every voice in the room singing from somewhere deeper than the lungs. Tears on the Moon summoned exactly the same reaction. After all that wreckage, the crowd turned out to be just as fierce in their tenderness.
By the time 02 arrived, a standard pit was no longer enough, and the band demanded a classic side-to-side. The ensuing result was almost biblical. Boom parted like the Red Sea, leaving a gaping chasm of bare floor down the middle of the room before the two sides surged back together in a flurry of flailing limbs.
The finale was Bliss in 7 Languages, and Hunter made his terms clear before a single note had been played: the band would not start until absolutely everyone had come forwards. What followed was utter carnage, and yet the overpowering sense of community within the heart of the chaos never dimmed.
It is rare to watch a scene change hands in real time. A small independent venue packed with young people dressed in the uniform of an era they never lived through, soundtracked by a fresh, innovative sound. Phones stayed in pockets and the pit never stopped moving – carrying forwards the spirit of the era. If this is the direction post-hardcore is heading, with bands like I PROMISED THE WORLD leading the charge, then the future of the scene is in very safe, very sweaty hands.
Words: Adrian Chapman
Photos: Kelsey Tomlinson
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