The New York band did not simply play their songs, they weaponised them.

YHWH Nailgun are no ordinary band. Nothing in their manner suggests restraint or simplicity. There is something fiercely primal in their energy, serving up deep cuts raw and animalistic in their core essence. In March, their debut LP ‘45 Pounds’ burst open like some ferocious machine, unleashing something which dared to defy all categorisation. 

Translating this kind of ruthless intensity to the stage is no simple task, but confined within Salford’s dimly lit former mechanics workshop, they managed to summon it in its purest form. With the first clamours of ‘Penetrator’, the closeness of the setting suddenly became fractured by the outbreak of the band’s vast industrial soundscape. Combining juggernaut polyrhythms and caustic synth charges with Borzone’s guttural vocal delivery, the four-piece let loose their relentless onslaught. Album closer ‘Changer’ followed in pursuit, leading the audience further into the haze. Slicing seamlessly through their back catalogue, the spree felt oftentimes unsettling as it dared the listener to claw through the heavy tension and find the light on the horizon. 

The opening percussive stabs of ‘Castrato Raw (Fullback)’ welcomed a further rampant assault on the senses. Its advance was cold, caustic and unabating, yet there remained a hypnotic tension in Pickard’s loose and flashy drum patterns which left the audience fighting with their feet against the hard floor below them. It is this dancefloor fusion which truly anchors YHWH Nailgun’s sound, their unnatural ability to conjure up something so alluring from an otherwise corrosive soundscape, that puts them at the top of their game. 

On record, ‘45 Pounds’ at times felt meticulously calibrated, each outburst locked between another to give way to danger. Within this live setting, measured tracks such as ‘Blackout’ and ‘Tear Pusher’ became things of unpredictable volatility. The outburst of ‘Animal Death Already Breathing’ formed a particularly striking reminder of the complexity of the band’s energy, conveying how difficult it is to contain its surges. Although a slightly slower assault from the outset, it rapidly dissolved into something much murkier and angrier. Clean metallic guitar squeals ripped open to reveal their jagged edges, low-end synth hammers rose through our backs, and Borzone’s vocal gushes felt more desperate than ever. The experience quickly surpassed surface level. The weight of the instrumentation became something bodily, dragging us down so that the music was no longer simply being played at us but within us. 

Zack Borzone embodied this sentiment in his unnerving, yet equally captivating stage presence. Less like performance and more like possession, every glimmer of the eye and swift convulsion served to expel the force woken by each track. As he cavorted across the stage, his manner was often dazed, detached, even mechanical. At every moment, he posed a reminder that within YHWH Nailgun’s music there is something much bigger which cannot be controlled. 

As the band dove deeper into their armoury for older material, there came a strange sense of clarity. Moments like the eruptions of ‘Back Muscle’ and ‘Venison Mama’ from 2022 EP ‘No Midwife And I Wingflap’ were met with tense stillness from the audience. Though just as bold and vicious as their newer tracks, the offering of these tracks felt more deliberate. It was a kind of controlled torment, exercised with smug precision. They were antagonistic in the best possible way, asserting their authority and stretching the audience’s nerves as far as they dared before snapping the room back into chaos. 

As the final death clamours of ‘Iron Feet’ melted into ‘Look at Me, I’m a Rainer’, the air felt incomprehensibly heavy. Heavy with exhilaration and reluctant acceptance of the end of the storm. From an album of material seemingly abstract and elusive, YHWH Nailgun tore out something so physically evocative that even as the smoke cleared and the dust of the evening began to settle, a restless presence remained within the waning audience. YHWH Nailgun did not simply play their songs, they weaponised them.