Petch - Shepherds Bush Empire
Published
So, here we are again Shepherds Bush Empire. How are you my old friend? It’s been a while. It isn’t of interest to everyone to list the amount of times we’ve dated, but, I’ll never forget how you let me pass Bruce Dickinson from Iron Maiden a nearly full pint of Heineken as the flimsy plastic cup made it’s way from the rear bar, over the crowd to the front of stage via my excited early 20’s mitts! I’m surprised to this day that A) Bruce drank from the trusted goblet, and B) there was any luke warm pissy lager left in said goblet after its undulating journey across your alcohol soaked sticky floor and smoke filled atmosphere (that’s right, you sacrificed your lofty high ceiling lungs to allow us to smoke real cigarettes inside!). I’d like to say that I miss those days - where a haze of cigarette smoke, smoke from other combustable products, and the opaque haze of dry ice filled the auditorium. But I’m not entirely sure I do? It all seems terribly unnecessary in 2024?
What isn’t unnecessary however, is the requirement, the need, the animalistic desire, to absolutely rock out on a Tuesday night. To feel the compressed air created by 100w amps hit you in the face, to vibrate your chest, to electrify and crack through the now visibly cleaner air within some of the best A chords the electric guitar can offer. This basic human requirement, for those fortunate enough to be born with the gift of the love of rock n roll, is a scratch that has to be continually itched.
So, with my usual childlike excitement and wonder, I stand looking at the eerily lit stage. Blood red illumination pierces the hazy atmosphere, back dropped by endless darkness ensuring the audiences focus is on what looks like an original Marshall Plexi head and 4x12 cab from the late 70’s. From a wanna be rock stars understanding, Plexi’s need to be respected. Every major rocker from the late 70’s into the 80’s used the Plexi until the transition into the Marshall JCM800 100w head that powered 80’s metal. But Plexi’s are notoriously hard to harness. Only really reaching maximum effect, when they’re cranked to 11, this silhouetted statement is one of bravery for the handler.
In anticipation of a bands entry music, like the spine tingling Ecstasy of Gold for Metallica, to the more recent Terminator theme music that welcomes the insanely enjoyable Airbourne, the audience is calmly waiting, and gradually building in size to see what Petch has to offer.
Despite the lack of a cleverly thought through entrance theme, Petch walks on stage to a rapturous applause from the dedicated fans. It was quite the initial experience. A mid teens girl from Thai Land, walking on stage in London, her movements creating oddly mesmerising shapes in the now navy lit fog. Being handed her Fender from the over sized guitar tech or possible minder, Petch broke the silence by asking the crowd if they wanted to rock? Before the excited audiences cheers of agreement came to an end, Petch drowns out the crowd by starting the intro riff to Enter Sandman. Along with the rest of the room, I am instantly impressed. The playing was pristine, as if Kirk himself had been present in Petch’s finger tips. But, this wasn’t what won the rabble over; it was the continuous bravery shown by such a young talent. The bravery of the Plexi statement continued into the choice of songs. Hitting a crowd with Enter Sandman, is an equally bold move. There’s no where to hide with such a well known and loved rock classic. I was nervous on behalf of Petch ‘please don’t fuck up a classic!’ Not only did she not fuck it up, but by the time she screamed through the solo, the entire crowd was stuck focused on her playing and joyful intent to entertain. Rarely has ever someone so young, had such a natural ability to entertain with such maturity and projected experience.
A brief pause after Sandman to express her gratitude for the support, a beautiful nod to the Thai culture of peace and tranquility, Petch then rips straight into Sad but True. Another classic not to messed with. The down tuned heavy riff got every head banging in time with the young entertainers efforts to perform.
With the audience now sufficiently engaged, it’s time to up the anti. Petch changed guitars, then let rip with the first of her own tracks, Hatemail. This is when the sound really takes a space of its own. With a banging riff that could have come from the rock gods themselves, it sounds like a welcome mix of Zack Wylde and White Zombie. With a sharp vocal, able to be projected over the insanely rocking tune, you can hear any one of the great female voices of history piercing the now sweaty air of the Empire. It was a truly impressive mix of technical talent, audience engagement and an obvious love to entertain.
Without pause, Petch is straight into her final song. Another one of her own tracks, played with equal aggression and commitment. With a now full crowd, you could see the future of rock is still not only a desire, but, there is a hugely capable younger generation that equally share that desire to fucking make your organs move with sound.
You can probably tell I enjoyed the show, right? It wasn’t just a show, it’s equally about what it represented. The Empire as a venue is still very much alive with the sound of ear piercing heavy music. Whilst when built in 1903 the rock gods hadn’t awakened, the Empire is a trusted house of noise, and one that has been successfully providing a home for heavy artists for the past 40 years. Having first visited in the 90’s, and now 30’s years later being witness to the ongoing generations that will fuel heavy music for the next 30 years, I left the show with a kind of warm feeling, one of a certain smugness. That the middle finger raised by rock, is still very much being shown to the world. And that makes me smile.
