Live Review: Feed The Rhino/Stake at The Underworld, Camden

When I first started going to gigs at the ripe old age of fourteen, Kent-based rockers Feed The Rhino were one of the first bands that really blew me away in a live environment. With shirtless, tattooed, bearded frontman Lee Tobin orchestrating unprecedented chaos in the pit whilst stood atop the crowd himself, it was unlike anything I’d seen up to that point, and because of it they mean a whole lot to me as an individual. I’ve seen them five times altogether, and on Friday I attended their last ever show. It managed to epitomise every reason I’ve loved them over the years.

There were three support acts for the Rhino on their farewell gig, but I only managed to catch the last one: Stake (7.5/10). I knew nothing about the band beforehand, and it turns out that was because they’d spent the last 14 years being known as Steak Number Eight before going through a reinvention just last year. This is their first club show with the new moniker, and the Belgian sludge-metallers put on a brilliant showing. Despite the sparse crowd, each member’s enthusiasm and subsequent stage presence is undeniable, especially in the case of the wild, distinctively-mustachioed frontman Brent Vanneste, who at one point notices that his spit is slowly dripping down from the ceiling and fires another glob up over guitarist Cis Deman. Stake have a unique and original sound which sits somewhere between the heavier Reuben material and a band like Cult of Luna, and it's honestly viscerally exciting at points.

When you see Feed The Rhino (8.5/10), though, you pretty much know what to expect; beer, sweat, and big fuck-off riffs. Once again, they don’t disappoint a single bit. There’s still a slightly muted initial response from the crowd as the band kick off proceedings with ‘Featherweight’ (a single off their most recent album), but once they rip into their more well-known material (starting with 'Nothing Lost'), the Underworld instantly becomes a cauldron of flailing bodies. Tobin is at the forefront, seemingly unable to go five minutes without climbing onto the front of the crowd in order to inspire more lunacy. Flanking him are metal’s lairiest brothers, James and Sam Colley, along with Oz Craggs, a force of nature on bass, and Chris Kybert, in constant motion on the kit at the back. Between them, they put on the best Feed the Rhino set I’ve ever seen.

There are countless special moments over the course of the hour-long show: fan favourite ‘The Burning Sons’ sees one last epic wall of death; the chorus of ‘Tides’ is given a beautifully drunk choral rendition by every member of the crowd; ‘New Wave’ sees a glorious, venue-wide “jump-the-fuck-up” moment that would make Slipknot envious. Perhaps the most memorable part of the gig, though, comes when Tobin pauses for a few words between songs and thanks the audience for their continued support. “We’re just five pissheads” he says, going on to explain that the band has always been tied together through a mutual love of playing music and “getting fucked uuuuuupppp”. With that, the band’s career is summarised absolutely wonderfully.

The final few minutes of the night culminate in each member of the band abandoning the stage and flinging themselves onto the crowd while Kybert decimates his drum kit in the background. Feed the Rhino then storm off the stage in proper rockstar fashion for the final time, returning only to shower multiple cans of beer over the cheering, chanting fans (myself included, though I would’ve preferred cider).  It’s a fitting end to what has been ten years of gigging dominance for one of Britain’s most unfairly underrated bands. Long live the fuckin’ rhino.