Though overzealous is a word, more often than not, best used to describe Manchester’s venue security, tonight overwhelmed seems far more suitable. Looking to my left I catch the eye of Gorilla’s sole bouncer, a towering pillar of order and authority, he grins awkwardly and shrugs sheepishly. Another fan front-flips off the stage. There’s no barrier tonight, and as such security has been relegated to the fringes of the crowd, unable to do anything but look on half aghast, half amused at the heaving mass of flailing limbs in front of him. No barrier means no boundaries, something tonight’s crowd seems all too happy to take advantage of. This is chaos. This is punk. This is Gnarwolves. This isn’t even the headline band.
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