Soundwave '13: Melbourne Soundwave 2013 (TheVine)

In hip Gen Y heartland Flemington (well, maybe in the bowels of one's heartland) the transition of metal and punk cornered into tearing up dingy graffiti-trashed clubs to the mainstream is complete. The working-class rebellion is over.

The two-pronged attack from political correctness and economic rationalism starved the subculture of oxygen, corralling it into libidinous day-long expressions instead of steadfast lifestyle commitments -- 'til death or follicular necrosis. Mohawked metalheads sip lattes in cramped wood-panelled cafes incongruously named "Pepper" and "Monkey Tricycle" alongside urban professionals and retired graphic designers. Smartphones replace zippo lighters as rock show accoutrement du jour. The Big Day Out, as Andrew noted in his Brisbane review is no longer the heavy fans' festival.

Read much, much more at TheVine.

Soundwave '13: Gallows w/ Shai Hulud at The Corner Hotel (Metal As Fuck)

What’s with the god damn weather in this town?

Good question. Humidity feels like wading through barrels full of heat accelerant. Is it like dwelling inside an aerosol can, or something? Why does humidity feel like the sun is drawing nearer? Why did I think wearing pants was a good choice? It was so hot inside the Corner Hotel, a fine haze could be seen through lights. Red curtains cordoned off approximately half of the modestly sized pub backroom for this Gallows show. Keep in mind they were up against nostalgia ticklers Blink 182, Kyuss Lives and Garbage. Not that Soundwave is a popularity contest. Although if it truly wasn’t, every band would have equal time allotted to them and they’d play in alphabetical order.

Read more at the mighty Metal as Fuck.

Soundwave '13: Periphery w/ Crossfaith at The Esplanade Hotel Gershwin Room (Metal as Fuck)

On the first day of Soundwave Mr. AJ gave to me, djents at a thousand dB...

Melbourne trudged along to Monday, feet grudgingly shuffling toward metal’s coveted prize, the Soundwave Festival four more working days hence. The skies were painted grey, rendering them unfilterable via Instagram, the image capture device of choice for inhabitants of St. Kilda, one of Melbourne’s semi-autonomous hipster regions. Ideally resting on the pristine foreshore, its usually picturesque vista of sun shimmering upon water, leisurely uni students wearing fedoras and peter-pan collar dresses threatened ads for cider or reasonably priced compact cars to be shot there virtually any second and without warning. Fortunately for us, the annual decent of the metalheads kept any coke-bottle bespectacled “creatives” with clunky dSLR necklaces at bay.

Read more at Metal As Fuck.