Before Alice in Chains' first song is halfway finished – a version of Rain When I Die from the band's 1992 breakthrough album Dirt – the front rows of a packed Scala are reaching out to press the flesh of lead singer William DuVall. It's testament to one of the many peculiarities of heavy metal. Not even Joe Strummer could fill the vacancy when Shane MacGowan left the Pogues, while fans of Phil Collins-era Genesis refused to countenance Genesis without him. Metal devotees, however, seem uniquely predisposed to maintain their devotion to bands even when they replace their lead singer. DuVall, deputising for the late Layne Staley, is following in a grand tradition: Deep Purple, Black Sabbath, Judas Priest, Iron Maiden and Van Halen all did it and survived, to varying degrees of success.
But, grand tradition or not, Staley's shoes are difficult to fill. A detractor would say that Alice in Chains were the kind of band that kept Kurt Cobain awake at night worrying. Always vastly more popular in the US than the UK, they deftly blended grunge with the kind of old-fashioned metal Nirvana were supposed to have swept away. The basslines are subterranean and sludgy, the vocals inevitably drone before exploding into full-throated, feel-my-pain territory. Everything lumbers along like a protest march from the sumo wrestlers' union, but the guitar solos still have a tendency to go widdly-woo in time-honoured style. The artists they influenced were the kind you would cross the street to avoid (horrible Powerpoint-presentation grunge bands such as Staind, Nickelback and Puddle of Mudd); but, in fairness, Staley's baleful character lent Alice in Chains a certain edge: the addiction that eventually killed him bleakly permeated their lyrics.
Seven years after his death, you could argue that it still does: from the title down, their forthcoming album, Black Gives Way to Blue, seems haunted by his memory. Tonight's crowd – baggy of shorts, elaborate of goatee and, in notable cases of devotion to the grunge look that laughs in the face of the sweltering temperatures, woolly of hat – seem entirely unbothered. They get to roar along and do the devil's horns to the hits: Angry Chair, Would? and Man in the Box. To his immense credit, DuVall doesn't try to mimic Staley, but the three new songs sound like the old ones, which rather determines their appeal. You can't exactly imagine the band winning over a hoard of new fans, but here at least, they are greeted like the most important musical event of the year. "Are you gonna buy the new Alice in Chains album?" asks DuVall hopefully, before launching into a recent single. Another affirmative roar.
