Chalk's "united force of sound that seems to only grow in power" brought to Gorilla's stage: gig review.
Chalk at Gorilla, Manchester by Maeve W.
There is a lot of praise sung for Manchester audiences. The energy, appreciation and commitment to a good time places the city in most bands’ good books. Whenever the day and no matter the frequent grim weather, nothing puts a Manchester crowd off from making the most out of a gig. One of the most obvious examples of this is when Belfast project Chalk played Gorilla on an unusually humid Friday night.
Fronted by singer Ross Cullen and guitarist Ben Goddard, both having met studying film at uni, they come together to fuse the rawness of punk spirit and the unbridled intensity of rave culture. Time has been spent crafting this unique blend and alongside a strong live performance, it has all come to fruition with their debut album Crystalpunk released in March. It’s disorientating might is designed to play live. I first came across their sound with the 2023 single Static and since my discovery they’ve been busy. With plenty of singles and the trilogy of EPs Conditions, they stand out as something different to the vast landscape of post-punk. Their music is steeped in the complexity of identity and trauma, with references to post-troubles Belfast littered throughout. It shapes a deeply personal yet uniting concept.
Uniting is a word that feels very intrinsic to Chalk. Other than the actual music, the live show has the same effect; and it’s felt even more with a Manchester audience. Energy is already high in Gorilla from opener Autumns, whose unapologetic electronic distortion feels like the perfect warmup. Especially as he contorted and threw himself around on stage, comparable to myself in the morning trying to fix my lymph nodes. The lights go down and “CHALK” appears on the screen, bathing the room in a holy white light. They open with the first track off the album, Tongue. The breathy vocals build into an incessant grind of techno. With frontman Ross’s screams echoing around the room it’s immediately clear that the crowd is dedicated. It’s nonstop movement for the whole night. The industrial throb of Chalk’s sound dominates any space it inhabits. With flashing lights and Ross’s tantalising dance moves, it transports you into a real classic underground rave.
The crowd is diverse. I’m sharing the experience with old ravers and young club-goers alike. Everyone flows as one in the moments of tranquility and quickly find unity in each other. I end up having multiple strange yet endearing conversations which is something you must not close yourself off to when gigging in Manchester. In this city, there are no reservations. Despite a series of technical mishaps and many mic swaps, including the use of duct tape, it’s tracks like Pain and Longer that still pack a punch. I can’t help but draw comparisons to mid-late noughties Paramore-esque vocals. Flashes of the Twilight series permeate my consciousness whether I like it or not. However, it’s not as surface as that, there is real passion and tragedy behind the music. The mosh pit covers most of the room with speed. It doesn’t take long for Ross to hop down and join in. There is an obligatory moment of crouching as the music builds, a new trend in the underground scene that has spread like wildfire. Soon after Ross gets back on stage, Ben takes himself and his guitar into the pit where he plays riffs directly into the faces of fans. It’s thrilling for most and certainly bridges the gap between us and them. All we need now is to set the drummer up in the pit and wreak havoc.
Chalk’s set feels less like divided individual songs but instead a united force of sound that seems to only grow in power as the night develops. The one time this is broken is when Ross brings the music to an abrupt stop to call out a fight that had broken out. The call for security to remove the assailant only seemed to bring everyone closer, the unanimous chant of ‘wanker’ followed the brute as he was escorted out. Things get back on track with Them, which feels the most punk-oriented so far. It’s grainier in comparison and it’s incredibly hard not to feel riled up with the swelling energy throughout. Skem is another standout, with its abrasive attack on the senses, it seems to please the hardened ravers in the crowd. It’s around this point there’s someone crowd surfing, everything appears to go according to plan until a gap in the audience and he’s dropped straight onto the sticky floors. There’s a moment where everyone freezes in apprehension. Expecting some sort of medical intervention I’m surprised to see the guy hop up and launch back into the moshpit.
They close with Béal Feirste, the Irish name for Belfast, which has a certain wistful warmth to it. That repeated ‘shoulder to shoulder’ feels as important to the band as it does to us. We are shoulder to shoulder, dancing under the same lights to the same music. It’s a feeling that’s hard to come by in recent times but it draws me back to unity. If you’re to find it anywhere right now, it’s places like these, in the forced proximity of a music venue where you are face to face with people who are really just like you. United by sound and ignorant to the forces that try to separate us.
CHalk at Gorilla, Manchester by Maeve w.