Boris tears the roof off Electric Brixton

Boris is a heavy band. Comprising three members – Wata (guitar), Takeshi (double-necked guitar/ bass and vocals), and Atsuo (drums) – they conjure up earthshattering, crushing metal that can simultaneously pummel you with some of the densest concoctions of distortion and feedback you can fathom, and bring you to tears with this sense of ineffable beauty. It’s impossible to pigeonhole them into one specific modus operandi as they experiment with so many different styles, but their earlier material broadly explores two categories. You have the dronier sludge/doom metal or post-rock, moving at glacial paces with endless builds followed by immense explosions of pent-up energy. Their debut ‘single’ exemplifies this perfectly: Absolutego (1996) is an hour-long track with the first drop only hitting around 25 minutes in. Then we have their more traditional, thrashier hard rock: faster, more energetic and riff-driven, closer akin to Guns N’ Roses than Electric Wizard. Pink, the album which this tour celebrates the 20th anniversary of, falls more into the latter category (but far from absolutely, as with all their releases it contains a plethora, complicating a simple genre attribution).

I first saw Boris three years ago when they played Camden’s Desertfest, which describes itself as “the UK’s premier stoner rock, doom and heavy psych festival”. That might be true, but probably due to a lack of competition as it was overall a pretty middling experience. As an over-enthusiastic 16-year-old who’d impulsively bought a ticket after seeing Boris’s name, not recognising a single other act on the lineup or particularly enjoying many of their sets, I was somewhat out of my element. At the end of the day though, Boris kicked ass – shrouded in fog, they had a belly dancer on stage at one point; Atsuo crowd surfed; it was glorious. My only qualms were that the volume was simply not high enough (I’d lost my hearing protection earlier in the day but was more than comfortable) and that their set comprised entirely of their hard rockier post-2020 material. This was a bit of a gut-punch when I found out that they had closed with “Farewell”, the opener for Pink and universally agreed to be one of their greatest tracks, on all the adjacent dates. So surely being guaranteed to hear the hits in the context of an ‘album anniversary’ tour would be all excitement? Well, the answer to that can be a bit more complex.

I’d say a large part of what makes for an enjoyable experience at a show of an artist you’re a big fan of is the mystery of what they might play. Praying for one of your favourites, or an under appreciated deep cut, the delight of them hitting you with that one track you never expected to hear. Even if your hopes go unfulfilled, this process of anticipating, being surprised in some parts, let down in others, is what keeps gigs fresh and dynamic. Even if you are seeing a band you know will just shut up and play the hits, the order in which they do it is pivotal, creating a subtext of suspense, making you question whether they will play their biggest track. Surely, they will? Right? Right? Being kept on edge makes the opening notes hit even harder and creates these euphoric releases from the tension that stick with you long after curtains close. Classic album tours lose this magic with a preordained promised setlist running through the tracks from that album from front to back. As dear as the record may be for me (and these do end up being the most exciting kind of tour announcements), these are the shows I find myself the least excited for in their run-up – there’s staleness in predictability.

So on 15 October, I’m just leaving Brixton tube station to join my friends in the queue and spy someone with Boris merch, “Boris Plays Pink in its Entirety” and a list of tour dates printed on the back – banishing any hope for setlist variety in their performance from my mind. I begin bracing myself to hear the pure gorgeousness of “Farewell” right off the bat followed by Pink’s 10 other tracks (all brilliant, but never really topping the heights of the opener)… a bit of a bummer but any Boris is worth savouring. We have Planning For Burial supporting and he does an excellent job at quite literally setting the tone: with the blast of the first strum I am reassured that volume will not be an issue this time around. Wasluck has never been my brand of doomgaze exactly, but the density of the layered instrumentation live sells his work a lot better, with very powerful moments in the dronier sections especially. His clean vocals float hazily in the background of the distortion, imbuing the songs with an almost lullaby-esque quality in it’s very gradual rhythmic thudding along. Being a one-man project, the drum machine accompanying does get a bit boring, but his ramp up in intensity to screams makes up for it and leaves the opening set on a good note, whetting my appetite massively knowing that Boris executes what he sets out to do much more fully and interestingly. I await eagerly for them to take the stage.

Ten past nine, everything quiets down, and the band comes out. Smoke machines have obscured the entire stage, but the vibrant ceremonial garb they are wearing glimmers through. Wata takes her seat on the left as she broke her foot a couple of shows prior, but her guitar mastery remains unimpeded. I prepare myself to be thrust into the immediate sonic bliss of Pink’s opener but… that’s not “Farewell”? A thick sluggish droning riff has enveloped the venue and “Blackout” blares out, a track from midway through Pink and probably the sludgiest of the bunch, subverting my expectations and leaving me giddy with my inability to predict what would await. The band sounded brilliant, supremely loud, and unmatched in tone: I was ready for them to surprise me.

The energy was swiftly turned all the way up as the scorching thrashing of the title track took hold and the room immediately erupted into frenetic moshing. Being slightly overcrowded, this wasn’t the most enjoyable pit I’ve been a part of, but nothing could take away from Boris’ blazing performance – Atsuo pounding away, Takeshi holding down these lightning-fast riffs, and Wata gliding over them with these beautiful screeching solos. Things continued in this vein for the next five tracks (four from Pink, and “Ibitsu” from Akuma no Uta (2003)!), maintaining this momentum, embracing the neon-pink hard rock they’d perfected two decades ago. These were all undeniable and the band was killing it up there, but I was getting a bit exhausted in the crushes and writhing of the pit. Which is why I was all the more enthused when they decided to switch things up yet again!

The next half hour of the set took a massive pivot into tracks from other early 2000s releases, focusing on Boris’ other forte – my personal preference, the dronier stuff. With the 20-minute “The Evilone Which Sobs” at its centre, this portion of the show was completely mind-melting. The moshing was replaced by this reverent, patient communal headbanging, with the unbelievably crushing tone cultivating an almost sacred atmosphere: mammoth, deafening, and beautiful. This was then followed up with a return to Pink’s burning with the 10-minute rager (and the albums closer) “Just Abandoned Myself”, a sprawling, cathartic epic resummoning the mosh and stunning you with their combination of technical ability and emotional impact. And finally, of course, “Farewell” – and it is just every bit as perfect as I had hoped; words cannot do it justice; this may well be the greatest single song I have heard live, and ever will.

As definitive as a conclusion as “Farewell” is, who’s going to turn down an encore? Boris return to appease the usual chanting of “one more song!”, and they deliver exactly that – the 12-minute “Naki Kyoku”, the heart of Akuma no Uta, and Wata reaffirms her status as a guitar goddess. Pretty minimal instrumentation otherwise, just a succession of jaw-dropping solos over a great groove Atsuo and Takeshi hold down, it is the sweetest cherry on top of an already astonishing show. I have had this track on repeat since, and my friends who were there have the same story. They didn’t even play the whole record – only seven of Pink’s eleven tracks! But never have I been so glad to have been misadvertised to: that is how you put on an anniversary set.