Steve Snere doesn’t know, nor care, where he is. A man possessed, wholly, by the moment, he gyrates and grinds, twisting his slender frame into positions ninety-nine per cent of rock frontmen would struggle to achieve following a year of yoga tuition. His chest – his shirt stays buttoned for only so long – shines under the spotlights dancing over the stage; his bandmates, equally soaked in sweat, appear to be in their own personal zones.

This is a team effort, for sure, but the four men of These Arms Are Snakes each go to their own special place once the first riff of each and every set they deliver rings within the ear canals of those before them. They’re like a football squad of international superstars – each individual contests for their time in focus, for their moment of virtuoso r’n’r excellence. To Snere’s left, Ryan Frederiksen loops his guitar and drizzles propulsive riffs with an array of effects. Brian Cook – formerly of Botch – hammers at a keyboard between slapping his knuckles against a bass. At the rear, Chris Common damn near destroys his cymbals, his hair wild and eyes tight shut. From the front row, looking up, everything is incredibly intense.

And the intensity’s maintained throughout a set that never relents; every slice of shock-and-awe post-hardcore – if you need a pigeonhole, that’ll suffice for the time being, i.e. until somebody coins a catchall term for music this intelligent yet affectingly primal – leaves attendees floored, occasionally literally. The biggest reaction is reserved for ‘Drinking From The Necks Of The Ones You Love’, one of the four-piece’s oldest arrangements – it was recorded by a different line-up in 2003 – but a song that really hasn’t aged a la most of the songs from TAAS’s This Is Meant To Hurt You EP, their debut offering to the music world. As it ripples and ruffles, waves and feathers, the song’s met with sing-along adulation. Snere rides the crowd – the support’s sturdy, solid foundations of true admiration preventing the singer crashing to the ground.

‘Angela’s Secret’ buzzes menacingly and ‘Horse Girl’ bounces like a Dambusters bomb, but standouts are few and far between simply because of the level of consistency, as well-maintained as the senses-spinning force of the quartet’s performance. If TAAS were a frontline attack squad, a crack unit in some future war, enemies would toss their weapons to the dirt after only a few seconds of their bombastic barrage. When the venue’s lights come up and the PA pumps Dillinger Escape Plan, the dedicated followers of progressive rock music stumble outside, visibly overwhelmed by the experience, dizzied into a state of bewilderment after an hour of venomous musical vitriol.

It’s at this time that Snere finally snaps out of his hypnotised state and realises what’s just happened. Tomorrow, he’ll do it all over again.

Photograph by Robin Laananen