Ministry // SWG3, Glasgow, 2018 – James Hanton
Out of the pitch black they crash down onto the stage. The band take up their weapons adorned with symbols of anarchy, Trump baby blimps guarding the rear of the stage like bouncers. There is no escape. Frontman Al Jourgensen screams down the microphone via a megaphone, an unfiltered assault of white noise that leaves nobody left alive. And then the heaviest of guitars kick in, accompanied by cacophonic drums. What eventually emerges as music oscillates in your brain, and your eardrums beg for mercy. Your hair stands up so violently it rips itself from your scalp. Your eyes prepare to dive out of their sockets. Ministry have arrived.
You are hustled and wounded as you are crushed up against powerful stone pillars by the riotous crowd. Giants screaming in joy and dripping in sweat crowdsurf above you, often blocking out the strobing stage lights. Waving your arms in the air as if you are part of a drug-fuelled unholy communion, you feel the chords bounce off your fingers as they come violently screaming at you from all directions. Ministry leave you a shrivelled and deafened wreck of your former self. You wouldn’t have it any other way.