Give It A Name 2008 - 10th May 2008 - Sheffield Arena

Taking place over two days, Give it a Name is one of the more unusual festivals on the musical calendar, taking place entirely indoors and rotating acts on two adjacent stages, so that change-over times can be as quick as a few minutes, and all without the hassle of running between stages.
Opening this year's two-day extravaganza are Birmingham rockers Mexicolas, who seem to have genuine potential, shunning the current fad for poppy vocals and sugar-rush choruses in favour of classic-tinged riffs and smart, cheese-free lyrics. They don't pull out a song that makes the crowd sit up and really take notice, but they have good, solid foundations on which to build. Hopefully, we'll hear more from these in the future.

Next up are Four Year Strong, who blend straightforward pop-punk with synths to deliver twenty minutes of good, uncomplicated fun. They race through their songs at double speed, bursting with energy even at the distinctly un-rock-and-roll hour of two o'clock in the afternoon. The crowd sing and jump along to a set that's far from life-changing, but which leaves many with a smile on their face.

For a band headlined by Fred Mascherino, ex co-vocalist/guitarist of emo superstars Taking Back Sunday, The Color Fred never really get the crowd's undivided attention. Perhaps this is because their strain of straight-faced rock is difficult to connect with on the first listen. Mascherino's impressive voice cuts across the huge barn that is the Sheffield arena, and there is the odd catchy melody, but you probably have to give The Color Fred's CD a few spins before you can appreciate it live. The majority of today's crowd apparently don't own a copy, and consequently struggle to get enthusiastic about the set.

Next up are Envy On The Coast, who do a thoroughly good job of perplexing the audience. Frontman Ryan Hunter's voice is jaw-dropping as he trades lyrics with backup vocalist Brian Byran in a reggae-tinged call and response style. Envy on The Coast aren't a band you can take to on the first listen, and consequently they leave most of the crowd unsure whether they're enjoying the set or not. Envy on The Coast require a second, third, perhaps even fourth listen, but if you're a fan of the angular strains of Biffy Clyro or the reggae-metal of Skindred, this could very well be your next favourite band.

Continuing the genre-mangling is State Radio, who again blend rock with reggae vocals, but this time to inconsistent results. The politicised holler of 'CIA' is mildly addictive and does a fairly good job of filling the cavernous arena whilst simultaneously lodging itself in your brain. However, the rest of their set falls surprisingly flat. State Radio have a definite lack of charisma, and consequently struggle to make friends in the crowd. Ultimately, they just aren't as innovative and exciting as they should be.
Similarly, Strike Anywhere's straight-faced political punk fails to ignite. They clearly believe in what they're preaching, but lack the big hooks and sing-along choruses that's needed to win over the Give it a Name crowd. A lukewarm reaction to a band who were badly suited to this festival. They'd probably fare much better in front of the metal-friendly Download Festival crowd.

Emo-punk teenies You Me At Six are a little disappointing. Myspace hit 'If I were in Your Shoes' is the sole high in a set that turns into an emo blur. But even if the rest of their set can't stand up to 'In Your Shoes,' You Me At Six are at least enthusiastic performers, pulling out all the stops for their audience. They even briefly dart onto the main stage, to resounding cheers from those crammed against the main stage barriers. It's clear that music and performing means everything to You Me At Six, and if they don't have enough stand-out songs to make for a strong setlist, they at least have the passion that will keep them striving to improve themselves, and perhaps eventually become the great band they so obviously want to be.

Welsh crew The Blackout recognise the importance of making an impact, as a pre-recorded loop of demonic voices chanting the title of their debut album 'We are the Dynamite,' booms over the speakers prior to their entrance. The crowd responds by swarming to the stage, caught hook, line and sinker. They're not to be disappointed. The Blackout tear around the stage with all the energy characteristic of the pop-punk pack, but they have a darker, nastier edge, largely owing to frontman Sean's mock-misogynistic stage persona. Squeaky clean pop-punkers they're not, but that dash of aggression cracks open the previously stationary crowd, and sees the first real circle pits of the day.

Armour For Sleep have a more sedate take on emo, occasionally straying into the downbeat territory much beloved of Finnish doom-metallers HIM. They are a little too dour and plodding at times, and overall not a crowd favourite, but Armour For Sleep have the maturity and ideas that might spawn something of interest in the future.
Silverstein bring nothing new to the screamo genre, but though they only do what's been done before, they do it brilliantly. 'My Heroine' has a huge chorus, and their screamo leanings are pitched at just the right level of accessibility. They get an impressive circle pit for their efforts. Silverstein may be thoroughly unoriginal, but they are also very good at what they do.

Anti Flag go off like a bomb, their politico-punk sweeping the crowd into the biggest circle pits of the entire weekend. When each song comes to an end, those in the pits stumble to a stand still and raise their arms in dazed appreciation, and the cheers are deafening. This is something of a surprise, considering Anti-Flag's established, politically-aware punk sits rather uncomfortably next to pop-punk upstarts like Paramore and You Me At Six. But, Anti-Flag prove that if you've got the passion, stage presence and incendiary songs, you can win over almost any crowd. For half an hour, Anti-Flag live and breathe their music, and the crowd lives and breathes it with them. Even after they've left the stage, the arena is buzzing with words of appreciation and astonishment for the Pittsburgh trio.

When Glassjaw step onstage, it's to a resounding cheer, as vocalist Daryl Palumbo's ongoing battle with Chrone's disease ensures that any gig he's actually well enough to perform is something special by default. They burn through their set, slick and full of ire, and Palbumbo is as ever an inspiration, defying serious illness to do what he loves. When Glassjaw announce that the next song will be their last, the audience boos, and Palumbo seems genuinely touched, shrugging "sorry guys, it's not up to us."

It's a tough act to follow, but Billy Talent have some great songs in their arsenal. The punk sugar-rush of 'Red Flag' gets every pair of feet moving and is insanely catchy enough to bowl over anyone in the audience wondering "Billy- who?" You'd need a crowbar to remove that chorus from your frontal lobe. Frontman Benjamin Kowalewicz's angular voice completely fills the stadium, and he bowls back and forth across the stage, apparently with energy to spare. Billy Talent have choruses that make you want to dance, and big, shiny hooks in abundance, presented with an awkward Biffy Clyro-esque edge that goes down a storm. Seeing Billy Talent in a stadium makes you realise that they really are good enough to fill an arena.

And then it's time for tonight's headliners, 30 Seconds To Mars. It's all too easy to dismiss the success of 3STM's debut album 'A Beautiful Lie' as being down to frontman/Hollywood actor Jared Leto's presence in the band. However, this 'actor's band' have that essential understanding that as festival headliners you have to put on a show that people will remember. A good performance simply isn't enough.
Right from the start they make it clear they intend to deliver the goods, as a curtain is fixed across the stage and roadies flit back and forth, assembling something behind the curtains. The crowd crane their necks in the hope of a sneak preview, and the aircraft-hanger that is the Sheffield arena crackles with anticipation.

When the house lights cut out and the operatic 'O Fortuna' booms over the speakers, you can sense an arena full of people all holding their breath. Then, the curtain slams down on a stunning set. Full-scale flag poles and red flags are positioned around the stage, making it look more like a political rally than a concert, and the backdrop is a painting of thousands of Chinese masks receeding into the distance. It's visually striking, but 3STM now have to deliver a set worthy of such opulent surroundings, or else risk looking like a bunch of pretentious twits. Set-opener 'A Beautiful Lie' instantly dismisses any notion of 3STM falling flat on their faces, as it cuts across the arena like the rock equivalent of a power ballad. The audience do their best to sing themselves hoarse as the chorus soars ever higher, with Leto's voice leading the way. 'A Beautiful Lie' is so spine-tinglingly good, and the audience are so absorbed in the song, that it's difficult to believe we're not all here as part of 3STM's first arena tour.

Hollywood Leto has, of course, been accused of 'playing' at being a rock star. Indeed, past 3STM shows have had their fair share of cringe-worthy moments due to Leto's apparent conviction that fronting a rock band made him the new messiah. Tonight though, there's nothing false about Leto's performance. He seems to finally be comfortable with the role of frontman, no longer trying too hard or visibly running through a list of expected frontman behaviour: thank the crowd, check. Declare undying love for my fans, check. Hold hands with a girl in the front row, check.
Leto proves his devotion by climbing from the stage into the seating area, sans security. There, he takes up position between two star-struck, terrified-looking fans who just a few moments ago were quietly enjoying the show from the comfort of their seats. Pandemonium ensues as hundreds of standing area fans sprint towards the side barricades, and almost everyone in that seating-block pile around him. "Sing along with me!" Leto commands the gathered masses, and they comply, hysterically, whilst the two girls either side of him seem too scared to move, least of all sing. If Leto was once playing at being a rock star, he isn't playing any longer.

3STM's headlining set is breathtaking, crammed with soaring, stadium-sized songs, gorgeous visuals, and a frontman who believes 100% in his band and their music. It's easy to dismiss 3STM as an 'actor's band' but, tonight, this actor's band has done good.

B Review by Jessica Thornsby


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