MV happens to be at the gig early tonight, and if the T-shirts that are in the queue are anything to go by, there’s no such thing as a typical Amigo The Devil fan. Along with his own and a few folk-type acts, there’s Rammstein, Maiden, Morbid Angel (and Thunder, being sported by your humble scribe). Fair enough, I suppose, because when I’ve reviewed Danny Kiranos (ATD’s real name), there are a lot of “What just happened?” “How do I put that into words?” type reactions, which is a problem when you’ve literally got to put it into words.
But first, this. “We’ve got 45 minutes to fall in love,” says Nate Bergman, “so don’t fuck this up.”
It takes about 30 seconds of opener “War On The Working Class” to realise that this is basically nothing more than a ticker-tape parade.
After that, he turns the hook “I wish I was dead” into a singalong, on “Wish I Was,” and whilst that might not be true anymore, he makes it clear before singing “Hard Time” that it wasn’t so long ago that he wished just that.
I was a huge fan of his previous band, and it’s interesting how far these songs are from that. There are tinges of Springsteen’s “Nebraska” era here, and if “Sweet Elle” is more tender, then Nate Bergman 2024 is a different artist than what’s around.
“Back To Nashville” is his new life (he was dragged back to music by ATD) writ large, and his cover of “Helena” by My Chemical Romance (and MV is probably alone in not realizing it—even if we can work Google) is delivered with no less skill and rawness than “Into My Arms.”
Nate Bergman’s second act is a reinvention, just as much as it is catharsis, and it’s fair to say it was love at first sight.
Amigo The Devil is halfway through “Cocaine And Abel”—coincidentally around halfway through the set—when I notice it. There’s a youngish chap, possibly in his early 20s, in tears, being consoled by a woman.
Nothing that happens in the rest of the 80 minutes or so that ATD is on stage—and there is a lot—sums up the connection between the band (and it truly is a band) and the audience.
It had started with an apology. Amigo explaining that his voice has gone (it doesn’t seem bad at all) before they play “Small Stone”. It started off tenderly. A tinkle of a piano, then it just explodes. Most things here do.
He writes songs that no one else would imagine. No one. Not to be quirky, but because he thinks on a different level. “Murder At The Bingo Hall” went down a route some had, but never like this. But wherever fantasy ended and reality began, the study in depression that was “The Cannibal Within” was raw, yet positive.
Since he was last here, the stunning “Yours Until The War Is Over” had emerged and most of its best moments were here. “Once Upon A Time At Texaco Pt 1” was one of those, but he’s already thinking of the next thing, and “My Body Is A Dive Bar” has hints of the Dropkicks.
Old favourite, “Hope Your Husband Dies” is still here, though, and if you want to discuss the extremes of Kiranos, then that he follows it up with a tender song about his dog being put down is perfect.
“Another Man’s Grave” (“It can be a happy song,” he offers), “Hungover In Jonestown,” and “Hell And You” would be good enough to end most sets, but not here. ATD has the same views on encores as I do, so he doesn’t do one. Instead, he just moves his microphone down to the floor for the dusted-off revenge ballad “Perfect Wife,” and it seems that if he could have played the whole gig from there, he would have.
Amigo The Devil is a genius. The way he uses words makes him that, but it’s more than that: “Thanks for making us more comfortable than we ever are in the States,” he said before the end, and it’s very much a shared experience. But when the band and crowd come together, it makes Amigo The Devil one of the finest live performers around.
