Flesh, Bone, and Fury! Nothing More Deliver An Exorcism at the Kentish Town Forum!

Flesh, Bone, and Fury! Nothing More Deliver An Exorcism at the Kentish Town Forum!

On the 5^th December, at the hotly anticipated London date of their ‘The Carnal Nature Tour’ Nothing More exorcised the Kentish Town Forum with ferocious and glorious intent!

If rock and roll is dead, nobody told Jonny Hawkins. In fact, based on the sweating, screaming, heaving mass of humanity packed into the O2 Forum Kentish Town on a freezing Friday night in December, rock and roll isn’t just alive, it is rabid!

Nothing More has spent the last decade carving out a niche that sits somewhere between alternative metal, progressive rock, and spiritual revivalism. But to listen to their records is to only understand half the story. To see them live, as I did on the London leg of their Carnal tour, is to witness something that transcends entertainment. It is a purge. It is a collective bloodletting. And standing at the center of the storm, like a conductor possessed by a poltergeist, is a frontman who might just be the most electric performer of his generation.

The Vessel: Jonny Hawkins

It is impossible to discuss this evening without dedicating significant space to the physical and emotional marvel that is Jonny Hawkins. As the house lights died, plunging the Forum into a darkness thick with anticipation, the air felt charged with static. When the band erupted into the opening crunch of “House on Sand,” Hawkins didn’t just walk onto the stage; he seemed to materialize out of the noise itself.

Shirtless, barefoot, and adorned in body paint that looked less like decoration and more like the war paint of a man fighting his own shadow, Hawkins is a blur of kinetic energy. His stage presence is “explosive” in the literal sense of the word. He moves with a convulsive, frantic intensity, contorting his body over the monitors and throwing his voice to the back of the room with a force that threatens to crack the plaster of the old venue’s ceiling.

But it’s not just the athleticism; it’s the eyes. Hawkins performs with a manic, wide-eyed intensity that locks onto individuals in the crowd. He isn’t singing at you; he is screaming for you. During the early barrage of “Angel Song” and “Let ’em Burn,” he was a conduit for pure, unfiltered aggression. Yet, there is no barrier between him and the audience. He feels less like a rock star on a pedestal and more like a fellow sufferer who has just been given the microphone.

The Descent into madness!

The trajectory of the night was plotted with meticulous intent, drawn heavily from the new record Carnal but weaving in the essential threads of their past. “House on Sand” was a towering opener, its industrial-tinged riffs shaking the dust off the floorboards. The crowd, a sea of black hoodies and dancing bodies, met the energy instantly, shouting the chorus back with a fervour that nearly drowned out the PA system.

The band, completed by the unsung heroes Mark Vollelunga on guitar and Daniel Oliver on bass was tighter than a tourniquet. Transitions were seamless. “If It Doesn’t Hurt” showcased the band’s pop sensibilities wrapped in barbed wire, a track that had the entire floor bouncing in unison.

A midway Bass Solo from Daniel Oliver served as a necessary palate cleanser. In a genre often dominated by guitars, Nothing More treats the bass as a lead instrument, a percussive, growling beast that rattles your ribcage. Oliver’s solo was technical, funky, and heavy, grounding the show before the emotional onslaught that was to come.

As the set moved into its middle chapter, the atmosphere shifted from aggressive to anthemic. “Go to War” remains the band’s calling card, and hearing two thousand Londoners scream “Do we have to go to war?” felt poignant in the current global climate. It was a moment of unity, a shared release of frustration against the chaos of the outside world.

But the true emotional anchor of the night, and perhaps the most devastating performance I have seen all year was “Jenny.”

Written about Hawkins’ sister and her battles with mental illness and addiction, “Jenny” strips away the metaphors and leaves only raw, bleeding reality. The lighting shifted to a sombre, deep blue, and the frenetic energy of the mosh pit subsided into a respectful stillness. Hawkins’ vocal performance here was shattering. You could hear the crack in his voice, the years of helplessness and love channelled into every note. When he fell to his knees screaming the final refrains, it didn’t feel like a performance. It felt like he was reliving the trauma in real-time. There were tears visible in the front row. It was a haunting reminder of the fragility of the human mind, delivered with such tenderness that it felt like an embrace.

The Choice: A Moment of Democracy

In a brilliant bit of crowd work, the band paused the emotional heavy lifting to offer a choice. Hawkins, breathless and dripping with sweat, gestured to the crowd. We were given a choice for the tenth slot in the setlist: the title track of the previous album, Spirits, or the biting, satirical “Mr. MTV.”

The roar for “Mr. MTV” was deafening. Perhaps it was the British cynicism, or perhaps we just wanted to dance on the grave of consumer culture, but the crowd spoke clearly. The band obliged, launching into the track with a sneering, punk-rock attitude. It was a high-energy romp that saw Hawkins mocking the commercialisation of art, a delicious irony as he stood on a stage in a major venue. It injected a shot of fun and adrenaline right when the room needed it most.

Following the industrial grind of “STUCK,” the band moved into what is arguably their progressive masterpiece: “Fadein/Fadeout.” If “Jenny” is about the pain of the present, “Fadein/Fadeout” is about the crushing inevitability of time. Dealing with the cycle of life, a father watching his son grow as he himself ages, the song is an epic journey. The lighting design for this track was spectacular, with beams of white light cutting through the smoke like the sands of time. As the song built to its cinematic crescendo, the emotional weight in the room was physical. Watching dads in the audience with their arms around their teenage kids, singing the words back to the stage, was the most beautiful moment of the night. It is a song that forces you to confront your own mortality, yet leaves you feeling grateful for the ride.

The Climax: Ballast and The Drums!

The band dipped into the atmospheric interlude of “Ocean Floor,” a brief moment of calm before the final storm. Then, that unmistakable, distorted riff tore through the silence.

“This Is the Time (Ballast)” is the ultimate closer. It is a sledgehammer of a song. As the drop hit, the pit opened up one last time, a whirlpool of bodies moving to the synchronized chaos. Hawkins, now smeared with sweat and paint, threw himself into the music with a desperation that was terrifying to behold.

The night ended not with a traditional encore, but with the Drum Solo finale. But this wasn’t just Ben Anderson behind the kit; this was the “Scorpion Tail” and the auxiliary drums coming into play. The sight of the members beating on drums, the sheer tribalism of the rhythm, brought the show to a primitive, ecstatic close. It felt like a heartbeat, the heartbeat of the band, the heartbeat of the audience, all synchronizing into one final, deafening pulse.

The Aftermath!

As the house lights flickered on, revealing the exhausted, smiling faces of the crowd, there was a lingering sense of vibration in the air. We stumbled out onto the freezing Highgate Road, steam rising from our bodies, ears ringing, and souls cleansed.

Nothing More didn’t just play a gig in London; they orchestrated a moment. In an era where so much live music feels over-produced and backing-track reliant, Nothing More proved that there is no substitute for blood, sweat, and raw emotion. They are a band that demands your attention, your emotion, and your participation.

If you missed them this December, you didn’t just miss a concert. You missed a transformation. In a world often numbed by the digital, Nothing More are the shock to the system we didn’t know we needed, a violent, beautiful reminder that we are still alive.

Review by Louise Phillips

All photos are owned by Louise Phillips Music Photography and cannot be shared without consent