08.28.08

It’s not for the cock, it’s for remembering the rage

Posted in G-Town, Gigs at 1:23 pm by Gavin Williams

Rage Against the Machine @ Leeds Festival

The big one. Rage Against the Machine. It’s what we’re all here for, except those who thought seeing Babyshambles was a better idea…

There’s been a lot said about this reunion, the money, the politics, the irony of such an anti capitalist band reforming to play a massive corporate event for loads of cash. But at the end of the day, it’s because of the music that the main stage is so packed out and everyone is chattering with nervous excitement like little kids. After quite a delay (thoughts running through our head include: oh fuck, have they realised they all still hate each other and decided not to play?) the band come on and simply announce “We’re Rage Against the Machine from Los Angeles”.

The band play a cross section from their four albums, including the covers album “Renegades”. Each and every song is met with that face you pull, part pain and part pure pleasure, when listening to an insane rock riff while everyone headbangs relentlessly. As far back as the sound desk there’s circle pits.

There’s too many songs to mention, but with every riff, every heavy drum beat, each excellent scratchy, effects pedal aided guitar solo and, of course, every snarling word from the mouth of De La Rocha, the thousands of music fans present are in their element. Choosing not to make any political rants, in fact saying very little at all save for asking everyone to take two steps back to “help our brothers and sisters at the front”, Rage let the music do all the talking.

The band come back on after a quick encore and rip into “Freedom”. This sprawling, evolving song keeps punching back into the same life affirming riff. Without stopping for a second, Tom Morello fires out the heavy chords that signal the opening of “Killing in The Name Of” which gets the biggest cheer so far. As the song begins to break down, the crowd duet with Zack- singing “You do what they told ya” while he yells “You’re under control!”. Finally the song draws to a close and tens of thousands of people stick their swearing fingers high and proud into the air and shout “Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me!” It’s a moment of spine tingling, simple and poignant brilliance. And with that, before anyone’s had any chance to comprehend what’s just hit them, the best set of the festival by a country mile is over.

Wake Up  

Born Of A Broken Man

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