It’s not terribly surprising to learn that Amusement Parks On Fire were originally conceived as a solo project for vocalist/guitarist Michael Feerick. This is not to say that he hogs the stage – on the contrary, he is a decidedly timid frontman. But there is something about his demeanour that implies he is the owner of the band, rather than the most significant member.
It may be his all-white rig-out which giving him a messianic look. He’s a peculiar looking fellow: skeleton-gaunt and deathly pale, with black, scarecrow hair,
His charisma is, paradoxically, rather introverted. He rarely makes any sort of communication or connection with the crowd, but his movements onstage do suggest a certain self-confidence and individualism.
Feerick is young, and began composing material for this project when he was just 16, so there is a predictable teen angst/emo element to the music. The sound makes big nods from My Bloody Valentine and Spaceman 3, but it comes to the group via the likes of Placebo and Strangelove.
It’s aloud gig – unusually so for a venue like this. It’s a five-piece band, which employs three guitarists at most, two at least (one member skipping between keyboard and axe-wielding duties). This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but APOF look like a studio band that has not quite felt its way onto the live stage. The cacophonous guitar assaults are too frequent, and the bursts of noise are rarely precipitated by a seductive build-up.
The din is not as focussed as it could be Feerick’s weak vocals are still too high in the mix, while any melodic, melancholy undertow the songs once had is undetectable.
There are some pretty sonic snippets throughout the evening, but none seem to be stretched over the course of a full track, instead becoming lost in a hurricane of furiously-pounded electric guitar.
An unsatisfactory show, then, but it left this audience member with a hankering to hear more studio material from the group. Therein, one suspects, their sporadic, moody talents become unlocked.