The Boils
East Coast Oi! Fest
May 2008
text & pixs by Jillian Abbene
(SugarBuzz Wash DC/Richmond)
SugarBuzz Magazine
Just before The Boils take the stage with their Philly pride, I was tapped on the shoulder. It was the bass player for Far From Finished, Pesky, filling in at the fest. A split second later he is delivering samplings on the bass intro right into the first song, ‘Iron Eagle And The Liberty Bell.’ The panging fast pace drums slows down zoning in on the beat of the chorus-groove. Greg, the lead vocalist, in deep vocals, chunks out the second verse harnessing fore-fronted 3-chorder. Two thumbs up for the younger generation, gang-shouting at the top of their lungs, all endings all too quickly.
Again, Pesky plucks into a quick intro, needling through the entire song. In addition to the fast drum-thuds and subtle echo by Greg, who is now strutting across the stage, lets out a sneery growl, all before the next song.
The Boils seem rather comfortable in, ‘A Far Cry From Extinction,’ with less angst, a slower cadence that invites an added chorus join-in. Just after the repeats, there is a unanimous cheer at the end, as I stood astonished as the crowd went ballistic to this song—perhaps it is that Philly pride.
‘The Orange And Black,’ salutes the Philly Hockey Team—in Irish street punk. Everyone is singing in the chorus including the counting in between. There were lots of cheers at the end.
‘Mjollinr,’ is the definite highlight of the set. Chopped up fast-as-shit vocals are hit hard and constant. Rattling off verses in machine-gun fashion—all the way to the chorus, “Fuckin’ Violence!” the chorus switches to the mid-tempo pocketed gang vocals making this song a catchy tune. Although the rest of the song is exhaustingly short and the circle pit is small, the majority of the audience is too busy listening and participating in the vocals with fists in the air to care.
‘Skinhead Reggae Beach Stomp,’ totally changes the disposition. In “instant chill,” a traditional reverbed bass follows along a simple tune. Greg is standing in confidence, replicating a similar Clash-like style. There is a receptive response from the crowd as the guitarist interjects (while sporting a massive yellow Mohawk), while the bass recuperates the tune to the final notes of the song.
Just as I am enjoying one song, it ends, and the next one begins. Before I know it, it’s the last song, ‘Nice Boys Don’t Play Rock N Roll.’ These guys demonstrate a switch in gear, and jams straight into a rock and roll rendition. The ’77 tin-guitar ends in accapella—squished together in hard drum-slams and cymbals in an all-engulfing crash.
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