There’s a venue like Krakow’s Klub Studio in every city on the planet – functional, modestly sized, anonymous. But right now it looks like a prison riot is taking place in this one. Bodies are crashing into each other, drinks are cartwheeling through the air and there’s a distinct sense that something is about to get broken.
Standing in the middle of it all is the architect of this chaos. Stripped to the waist, tattoos glistening with sweat, holding a guitar above his head, Beartooth frontman Caleb Shomo is a whirling one-man wrecking crew whose charisma exudes from every pore. Amid the carnage, he’s the absolute focus of everyone’s attention.
It’s the end of Beartooth’s set, and as his band peal out deafening closer The Last Riff on the stage behind him, Caleb is hoisted aloft by this seething mob and carried around the venue, wrangling noises out of his guitar as he goes, looking like one part sacrificial victim and one part messiah. The Klub Studio is a fine enough venue, but Beartooth – and their frontman in particular – are way too big for it.
Rewind a few hours, and Caleb is sitting with Hammer in The Klub Studio’s altogether calmer backstage area. The combination of magnetism and confessional self-doubt that makes him such an electrifying personality on record and onstage is evident offstage too. He clearly worships and has learned from the greats he grew up listening to: AC/DC, Metallica, System Of A Down and Avenged Sevenfold. He even rocks a bandana (today’s is pink). It’s an alchemy that gives him the air of a bona fide rock star, a scarce commodity these days. Except Caleb doesn’t see it like that.
“I’m not a
