The Fulford Arms, York, 16th July 2026
Christopher Nosnibor
The Fulford Arms is great for many reasons, but one is the diversity of the shows it hosts. It’s also something of a haven for metal, with a couple of promoters putting on solid lineups of four bands for a tenner or so. The popularity of metal in recent years – particularly of more extreme persuasions – may well be a sign of the times, and I’ve written previously on the uplifting, even euphoric, qualities of a decent metal gig, and it very much does seem like a fair few here tonight are simply wanting to cut loose and have a blast while being blasted by dark sonic forces.
First up, Damage Control – not the international electroindustrial quartet signed to Metropolis Records, but a York-based three-piece, whose guitarist is a particularly lanky sod. Their set consists of back-to-back, nonstop, fast, raging thrash. The energy inspires some early two-stepping. mostly by one immensely tall bastard with no spatial awareness slam dancing himself. I know I’m on the shorter side, and also, at the age of fifty qualify as an old bugger, but fuck me, how are kids today so fucking massive? Anyway. It makes for a good start to the night.
Damage Control
Drior are from Nottingham and making their York debut. Their thing is old school death metal with titles like ‘Living Cadaver’. They’re appearance is unprepossessing, simply an assemblage of shorts and T-shirts, but what they do is slow, dark, heavy, and yes, I’ll say it – crushing. The drummer is the main vocalist and growls with a look of malevolence in his eyes. The drumming itself is perhaps a shade loose given its dominance, but the trio pack a commendable sonic density.
Driot
As is often the case with lineups like this, there’s a step up with every band – although not in the same way as it was in the 90s, when the headliners weren’t only given a superior mix but about 30% additional volume. This very much did used to happen, incidentally, at the same time the supports would often have to pay to play, too. The music industry has found new ways to shaft emerging artists since, but anyone who thinks there was some golden age is misinformed or misremembering. By the same token, band have to be so much tighter and more professional now. I’ll park that here for another time, and instead focus on the fact that Exorcism are all out fury from the offset. And they’re relentless. And loud. Perfect.
Exorcism
Blasphemer are worthy headliners. They bring the thickest, densest, filthiest racket, churned out via a bristling host of spiky guitars – and their drummer can drum alright. The venue is far from packed, and it seems that Damage Control and their mates have had to go home, but given that it’s the night after England’s World Cup defeat and the hands of Argentina (again) and it’s a Thursday after the students have gone home, there’s still a fair crowd getting down to these guys.
Blasphemer
Blasphemer are a blast, with full on riffs from start to finish. There are moments that stall me and me gnaw on some questions. They announce a song called ‘Grooming Gang’, and as the lyrics are impenetrable, I’m left to ponder their position. Obviously, I hope they’re not racists, just as I hope they’re not brash metal edgelords, too, as they also play a sample of the voicemail message left by John Samuel Humble, also known as Wearside Jack, who submitted hoax calls and under the guise of The Yorkshire Ripper. ‘I have the greatest respect for you, George..’ It feels rather less exciting or edgy here in 2026 than it did in 1986. Call me sensitive if you like. Still, they kick arse and are nothing short of phenomenal to watch, and are exactly what you need on a midweek.
Aural Aggravation 