Six months ago, AFI were relatively unknown on these shores and aside from the odd album slagging nobody seemed too bothered. Now over a decade old, it remains a mystery why they've suddenly become music press cover stars virtually overnight. While they've always enjoyed an obsessive cult following, known for having tattoos of the band's lyrics and calling themselves 'The Despair Faction', why is world domination now on the cards after ten years? Only the lord himself knows.
Expand the acronym and they become A Fire Inside to signify a common feeling between them and their devoted disciples. Born out of California, the band adopted the straightedge ethos championed by seminal Washington hardcore band Minor Threat. The sober lifestyle means a strict policy of no drink, drugs, promiscuity and only vegan food. Serious then? You'd better believe it. Only drummer Adam Carson has opted out.
Bandleader Davey Havok - no, really - a tattooed goth-metal messiah, boasting dyed black long hair and freakish good looks, arrives onstage to the sort of hysterical reception reserved for the second coming itself. Dressed in a white shirt, black tie combo, with the band in contrasting Hives-esque black shirts with white ties and spiky haircuts, he looks like an outsider even in his own band.
Once they kick into gear it soon becomes apparent why they don't fit neatly into any particular scene. The (occasional) electronic pulses aside, sounding like NIN cast offs, this is the sound of a bygone era. A mixture of eighties metal and US punk rushes, fist to the sky choruses and Davey's LA stadium rocker vocals, make a mockery of their doomy song titles and imagery.
Single 'Girl's Not Grey' comes across like Iron Maiden having a minor tussle with Green Day while 'Bleed Black' is Poison gone Goth. 'The Despair Faction', out in force tonight, make terrace anthems of them all, belting every song back at the band with unadulterated devotion and passion.
And therein lies the mystery, as tonight it's difficult to see the spark that supposedly lights an internal inferno of pain, despair and sorrow. More like a box of Swan Vestas going up than a full-blown Molotov cocktail, it may well be an energetic show, all jumping up on monitors and incessant pogoing, but beyond that the only thing that marks them out is their affection for antiquated sounds.
Destined to become nothing more than the biggest cult band in the world the only thing this Fire Inside amounts to is a mild case of heartburn. Could someone pass the indigestion tablets please?
