Torche

Torche are not a band meant for the large wholesale market, nor are


they meant for any of the myriads that spin immediately from it.

profiled crevasses of a society largely

equipped with short attention spans and fixated with quick fixes.


Tonight in a tightly packed venue, the shorn-haired, workman-like

and has very little added identifiable frills that separate one song from

Primitive and unglamorous in its essence, the one hour set is a doom edged heavy riff-a-thon

that smashes into the loud clattering made by a fiercely
driven,

tightly played metal rhythm section and straight talking,
snapped vocals.

Some will summarise Torche as being the type of band

bred for longhaired head-banging numbskulls to positively enjoy;

others will flash mocking devil horn hand signals and brand them as an alternative to cheesy

retro-fuelled metal or emo weaned whingers.

Yet this committed trio stand as an example of dedication for all those
that say metal is a tired genre well past its sell by date.

Rennes has a huge student population.
While it might mean that the streets heave day and
night with sugar-high fresh faces, it also makes Rennes a centre of
bottled-up revolutionary sprit – ‘What happens in Paris, starts in
Rennes,’ goes the saying,


probably. Municipal police stand in droves on a number of corners,
waiting for the kids to go ape-forprogress and there’s

more than a bit of the ’68 look about Trans Musicale’s founder and his
gorgeous Patti Smith-like wife.

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