Zeus!

Zeus!, if you know how to take them, are two thoroughly likeable guys from Romagna. Sure, they might walk on stage greeting the crowd with a curse instead of the usual pleasantries, but in exchange they never put on a bad show. On the contrary, they always deliver the same relentless, sweat-soaked live set, inspired in its own way depending on the night. But a bad gig? Never: it's just not their style. It's not part of their modus operandi.

What's more, seeing them live brings to mind the words of a well-known Italian critic who, reviewing Burzum's "Filosofem" in 1996, wrote: "It's a singular concept, one to be experienced in silence, hoping you'll manage to recover from it."

There you go, Zeus! live have the same magnetic, addictive powers. It's not uncommon to spot people in the crowd completely narcotized by the wall of sound from Luca Cavina and Paolo Mongardi; to the point that some stand frozen with their now-empty beer cups still in hand, too focused (or simply too entertained) to set them down, toss them, or grab another. Not bad, in these times of collective distraction.

Fate, however, is a fool. Warmed up by The Whirlings (music we've heard so many times over since 1969 that we'd rather have listened to a lot fewer records, just to still be capable of being surprised), Karl Marx Was A Broker (decent post-hardcore, though with a slap-bass sound worthy of a UN complaint) and Delaylama (clear proof that the openers aren't always the weak link, which is why it always pays to leave the house a little earlier), the Heavy Psych Freedom Fest (!) reaches its climax well past midnight.

When Zeus! kick into gear, they draw a crowd of about forty at most. Some, including a few familiar faces from Rome's post-whatever scene, rather shamelessly prefer pub chatter well away from the stage. We'll only run into them again at the end of the show, smoking outside the Forte: envy is an ugly beast. So tonight's celebration of Greek myth draws an extremely mixed crowd, psychotic if we're honest. Be that as it may, between hipsters, goths, ravers, people in Napalm Death hoodies and a startling number of girls right up against the stage, it's hard to tell who's there to savor the lightning bolt of the Cavina/Mongardi duo and who ended up there almost by chance – April 24th is the day before a holiday, after all.

And yet the show we witnessed could well be counted among the band's classics. Their scant desire for self-celebration, despite the interest stirred up everywhere by their latest album, "Opera", is buried under tons of irony, aimed above all at themselves. Luca Cavina, having fixed his bass strap two minutes before starting, strips down before he's even broken a sweat and greets everyone with a "Porca M*d*n*a!"; Paolo Mongardi, dressed as if for a session on the gym treadmill, hides behind the drums his being (just a bit less than) a war machine.

"At the start of the show my arms always hurt, then it passes...", he'll candidly admit at the end of the night. We have no trouble believing it. Going from 0 to 10 with rhythmic stamina à-la Man Is The Bastard feat. Fantômas, you might have as much fun as unruly kids, but a certain amount of suffering has to be factored in.

So, even playing in front of a sparse crowd, bound to grow only slightly during their forty minutes on stage, Zeus! annihilate any form of life in their path. Amid disbelieving faces and furious headbanging. Creating a celebration that's hostile and grey at once, undying and malevolent, in which it's practically impossible to keep track of time passing.

The setlist is built around their latest album, and even "Sick And Destroy" holds up remarkably well – despite the predictable absence of Justin Pearson. But it's when "Grindmaster Flash" kicks in that the roar erupts. Zeus!, though, couldn't care less and, having teased the old fans, close everything out with "Blast But Not Liszt". After this articulate, nervous maelström, delivered straight-in-the-face, the whole crowd, battered and happy, goes back to sipping their cocktails (no little umbrellas) with Caribou playing in the background, making everything feel even more surreal.

Another show, another victory. Thanks are due to Zeus! for letting us dust off, for the millionth time, a string of words without feeling utterly ashamed of the job we do. Nor, for that matter, dying of boredom.

All photos by Giulia Delprato

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