Concert review: Hatebreed (Live at Toad's Place) 12-8-17

     
 Hometown Hardcore: Hatebreed (Dying Fetus, Code Orange) Live @ Toad's Place

[HATEBREED takes the stage at Toad's Place.]

     Hometown shows are, simply put, some of the most energetic and passion-filled concerts I have ever seen. If you’ve ever been in attendance at one of these rare events, you know exactly what I mean: for perhaps one night on a fifty-city tour, a band finds themselves playing in front of their home crowd – who show up in force. I’ve survived a few. However, there is nothing (and I mean nothing) anywhere, at all, EVER, that can match the intensity of a Hatebreed concert in New Haven, CT. What happens when you combine the most reckless, skull-stomping hardcore band in the world with one of the most timeless venues in America? Follow me through the tangled one-way streets of the Elm City….

     Toad’s Place has achieved an almost legendary status in many music circles. Aside from being a major outlet for local musicians since the mid 70’s, Toad’s has played host to an incredible number of famous acts through the years – in fact, far too many to list on this simple concert review. A simple walk around the dimly lit, dark interior of the small club reveals their proud history: concert posters with faces of Billy Idol, U2 and Snoop Dogg line the upstairs walls while the downstairs hallways hold the names of dozens more artists and bands who have chosen to grace this small New Haven stage over time. Yet for all this splendor, Toad’s is an extremely simple concert venue. In fact, I would go as far as to say that it is even a bit divey. The ceilings are low, the walkways are crammed, and there seems to be an overriding aura of grime and grease that pervades the whole scene – a testament to its years and years of stumbling patronage. The building itself is not built for live music – that is to say, there is no acoustics or architectural amplification at all. To account for this lack of natural sound resonance, Toad’s simply added more artificial noise: three massive towers of speakers stare menacingly at the crowd from the ceiling. The sound here is absolutely deafening. I have heard others complain about this dingy feeling (or losing hearing for three days post-concert), but it has never bothered me. Concerts are about sweat and mess, and Toad’s embodies that spirit exceptionally well. On no single night is it more powerful than when New Haven’s own Hatebreed take the stage.

     This tour was due to be an absolute slaughter form the start. Hatebreed was hitting the road to celebrate the 20^th anniversary of their debut album Satisfaction is the Death of Desire and the 15^th anniversary of their sophomore album Perseverance – both widely considered to be metalcore classics. To celebrate, they would play both albums in their entirety. Hatebreed would be joined by vulgar slam metal veterans Dying Fetus and the new kids on the hardcore block, Code Orange – both excellent choices for brutal, moshy support. Naturally my friends Luke and Zak were beyond excited to attend this show as a trio. We headed to the battleground on a cold December evening with anticipation in our hearts. Earlier that day, the show had sold out. It was going to be heavy, rowdy, and crowded – that’s for sure.

[CODE ORANGE smashes Toad's Place with their new hardcore groove.]

    

     Code Orange seem to be the heir apparent to the modern hardcore throne. Their music, like Hatebreed’s, fuses hardcore, punk and metal into a slamming sound that makes you want to rip floorboards out of the ground. 2017 has seen extensive touring for the band – supporting acts such as Gojira, Trivium, and Meshuggah has helped these five kids from Pittsburgh (and I say kids intentionally – they are all very young) and their heavy tunes garner a lot of attention. The title track from their latest album Forever was recently nominated for the 2017 Grammy for best metal performance. Luke, Zak and I were especially excited to see them play live because we missed them open the show for Gojira this past October – our Code Orange fix was more than two months overdue. At Toad’s, we witnessed an excellent performance. Code Orange’s music is sludgy and slower than most of what I personally listen to. Though they slice through 3 or 4 minute tracks like a hot jackhammer through butter, their songs never achieve any breakneck speeds. There are no screaming guitar solos or furious riffing – instead, the music is heavily driven by the calculated, slow-tempo

[Jami Morgan on vocals and drums.]

slams of drummer/vocalist Jami Morgan. This drum/vocal performance was a real highlight of the show for me and something I have seen very few times before. While Morgan sticks away song after song with intensity and dexterity, he delivers screamed vocals from behind the drum set as well. His attention to detail –demonstrated by this left-brain right-brain multitasking – is quite impressive. He takes time in between songs to shout out classic hardcore babble to the crowd: his cheers of “Get off of your fucking feet right fucking now!” “We are Code fucking Orange! Move this place!” are enough to start a riot in the small venue. The rest of the band chugs away with equal passion. Tracks such as “Bleeding in the Blur” bring guitarist Reba Meyers to the microphone to deliver some gristly clean vocals which do not detract from the intensity of the music at all. 
Interestingly, Code Orange’s stage equipment also includes a full synthesizer, played intermittently by the band's newest addition, guitarist Dominic Landolina. In between concrete-solid breakdowns, Landolina hops on the synth to deliver creepy, wobbly electronic vibratos that give the band an eerie transition from song to song. Orange-beareded bassist Joe Goldman looms over the crowd, screaming sans-microphone into the hundreds of fists in the air. He is quite a sight on stage – sporting black jeans and a simple white wife beater, he often crosses the entire stage in three or four gigantic steps, firing up both right and left sides. The pit absolutely loved it, and Luke and I had a lot of fun slamming and kicking around for a few songs. Though Code Orange’s image and music is hardcore to the core, they truly got a handful of metalheads on their feet. “My World” was absolute bloodshed. I am very glad I was finally able to see thing youthful, hungry band play live. I have a feeling that they will soon be a household name in the metal community. 

     

     Without listening to a second of their music, I bet you know exactly how Dying Fetus sounds – and no, your parents will not like it. The group (primarily a trio) formed in Maryland in the early 1990’s and has been on a tear of vulgar devastation ever since. Their brutal brand of death metal is characterized by up-tempo blast beats and complex technical arrangements. Sections of a Dying Fetus song can go from fast-paced guitar gallops to crushing, slow riffs in a matter of seconds – a testament to the musical craftsmanship of lone original member, John Gallagher. Gallagher is an extremely proficient guitarist whose fingers sweep up an entire fretboard with ease. Sections of songs like “Invert the Idols” and crowd-favorite “Shepherd’s Commandment” are great displays of this intense technical ability (which of course, looks effortless in the hands of Gallagher.) What is more impressive, however, is that he also performs vocals while playing. His unintelligible grunt (more of a guttural dog bark) has become synonymous with the band’s music. He is accompanied by equally proficient bassist Sean Beasley, who also frets away at an incredible pace. Beasley, who barely moves the entire show, seems to play on autopilot from under his mane of

[My (awesome) WWI themed Dying Fetus
long sleeve.]

long black hair. His vocal accompaniment covers high range screams. These two guitarists stand at opposite ends of the stage leaving drummer Trey Williams the middle of the scene. It is difficult to believe that only three musicians can make so much damn noise. In fact, what was most incredible about this (or any) Dying Fetus performance – aside from blisteringly fast guitar work and technical drumming – is that the band stands alone as a three-piece. Even limited to only one drummer, one bassist and one guitarist, Dying Fetus still manages to spew out some of the heaviest death metal in the modern scene. Their latest release, Wrong One to Fuck With, received widespread critical acclaim. The fans in the crowd that night loved it too. After desperately snagging the few pictures you see here, I had to join the swirling mosh. “Subjected to a Beating”, my personal favorite DF song was an absolute bruiser. The pit had lost some of its kung-fu hardcore charm and had quickly evolved into an all-out death metal shove fest. When put in the mix with Code Orange and Hatebreed, Dying Fetus seems to be the only metal act on a clearly hardcore-oriented bill. However, the trio was able to play well into the chanting arms of this bloodthirsty New Haven crowd. As circle pits whipped and fists and bodies flew, Dying Fetus ripped away through a long setlist and successfully introduced Toad’s to their signature slam metal sound in epic fashion.

     


By the time Dying Fetus had cleared the stage, the sold-out venue had truly begun its descent into claustrophobia. The small GA floor had grown significantly more crowded since Code Orange left the stage, and Toad’s begun to take the form of the perilous sweatbox I am more familiar with. A walk to the bathroom (once a simple task) was basically incomprehensible at this point – unless you fancied a half-hour struggle. Closer to the stage, the crowd packed tighter and tighter together and the anticipation of brutality was drawn as tight as a rubber band– soon, there was to be an insane release. 

[Toad's Place crowd photo courtesy of @hatebreed Instagram.]

     Once the lights cut to black, that notorious hole in the center of the crowd expanded and grew to enormous size – it would not disappear for the remainder of the night. From the first moment the five members swarmed the stage, the crowd went absolutely ballistic. It was nuts– I have to speak so frankly – the mosh pit literally erupted only seconds into their first song. Just as the room had begun to shake and pulse with the explosive riffs of “Empty Promises,” frontman Jamey Jasta stands center stage and is clearly visible for the first time. “Stop! Stop! Woah!” He commands. The music is suddenly cut off as quickly as it began. Apparently, he had noticed a fan lose their footing and fall to the ground in the sea of fists and fury. “Pick’m up! Get’m up! You good? Good? Okay!” He declares, smile on his face. The band laughs it off as well – another fan barely escapes a brutal fate at the Hatebreed concert. They regain form and quickly roll into their second tune, “Burn the Lies”, and the show continues as if nothing has happened. This was one of the most miraculous things I have ever seen at a concert. Of course, I have seen a front man stop a show to tell the crowd to help out their fellow fan who may have fallen or lost footing…but during the energy and intensity of the first song? Less than two minutes into the show, Hatebreed had stopped playing to help rescue a fan who surely would have been injured had they remained in a compromised position. That’s unheard of. One perspective says that Jamey is a cognizant and caring frontman. Another perspective says that the show at Toad’s was out of control. I think it was both.

     This hiccup did nothing to stop the epic machine that was already rolling at full-steam. Hatebreed continued seamlessly, opening with the first four tracks off of Satisfaction. As Jasta delivers his trademark hardcore drawl at breakneck pace, founding member and certified shredder Wayne Lozniak rips away at riff after riff on a gorgeous black Les Paul. Because most of Hatebreed’s music follows the same simple song structure, it is amazing that Wayne is able to mentally distinguish between the hundreds of Hatebreed songs – “Before Dishonor” has this breakdown and “Puritain” has that breakdown, and so on and so forth. Because the music itself does not show an immense amount of artistic variation, it takes a fair amount of skill to be able to memorize and perform 20 nearly identical songs without a single mistake. Periodically, he steps to the microphone to deliver some of Hatebreed’s classic gang vocals with sheer ferocity. Frank Novinec, the newest member of the band (if you consider a 16 year member new…) matches Wayne’s guitar intensity while also offering several subtle head-nods at the crowd. While the two guitarists remain silent and steadfast most of the show, bassist and founding member Chris Beattie is extremely energetic. He offers the head of his bass to the crowd several times, pulling his instrument away from the hundreds of screaming fans just in time to deliver another crunchy Hatebreed bassline.

[ From L to R: Chris Beattie, Jamey Jasta, and Wayne Lozniak.]

     About halfway through the show, Jamey and the band stop to address the crowd and thank them for selling out their hometown venue. He briefly speaks on the significance of this show – each band member is from the surrounding area and grew up attending shows at Toad’s Place themselves. Though Hatebreed played several shows at Toads while they were a local band, Jamey reminds the crowd that the roots of Hatebreed run much deeper - through the skateparks and neighborhood basement shows found all over "the 203". At the end of the day, they are just a handful of guys from Connecticut that know how to make some kick-ass hardcore music. Jamey also offered a heartfelt tribute to “Dimebag” Darrel Abbott of Pantera – one of the most celebrated guitarists in metal music history – who was tragically murdered while performing on stage 13 years ago this very night. The crowd roars – an absolutely deafening blast of sound, and Hatebreed rips into the crowd-pleaser “Last Breath” – dedicated to Dime. Crowd interactions such as this are extremely common at Hatebreed shows, which is something fans truly love. Jasta is excellent at firing up his audience. Every crowdsurfer (including myself during “Looking Down the Barrell of Today”) gets a high-five or a fist bump from Jasta himself, even if he must stretch out over the crowd for it.

     More than ninety minutes later, the crowd has not relented a single bit. Feet still fly through the air, circle pits expand and contract to encompass almost all of the standing room, and sweaty, satisfied fans scream along with every word. As the setlist grows and the night begins to wind down, Jamey pauses a final time to introduce all of the Hatebreed members on stage – also giving their Connecticut hometown, much to the pleasure of the fans who revel in knowing that these performers might have lived down the block from them. As a special treat, Hatebreed brings out ex-guitarist Sean Martin (who played guitars on Perseverance) for several songs. Martin hasn’t lost a beat. He joins his friends on stage and chugs through the final three classic Perseverance tracks with ease.

     

     Though hardcore music has never truly been my cup of tea, you have to give credit when credit is due – and Hatebreed deserves a lot of it. Their music, while simply structured and breakdown driven, is stompingly heavy and surprisingly catchy. Their jaunty, upbeat riffs will break the neck of even the most elitist death metal aficionado while crowd-favorite songs ignite adrenaline in diehard fans. Despite the misleading name (originally taken from a Misfits song), their 

[My (super cool) autographed copy
of Satisfaction.]

lyrics remain indomitably positive. Hatebreed seeks only to inspire personal power and determination in their fans. This ability to make the (sometimes slighted) hardcore music genre appealing to metalheads of all musical interests is mainly due to the charisma and relative celebrity of their beloved frontman, Jamey Jasta. Jasta, a New Haven native, is a metalhead to the core – which is probably why fans from so many different metal backgrounds are familiar with him and the Hatebreed music.  He has toured the world extensively with Hatebreed and his solo project, Jasta. He also hosts the popular metal podcast “The Jasta Show”, which has featured guests such as Ice T, Kirk Hammett, Jesse Leach, and Rob Halford. I met him at a live taping of this podcast this April and was able to speak to him candidly and I must admit that, for all of his celebrity, Jamey remains approachable and humble. I highly recommend "The Jasta Show" to anyone who is interested in the modern metal scene and quality, uncensored journalism.

     Hatebreed has long since left behind the days of being a local band. Currently, we would be talking about a band that headlines major festivals across the US and abroad – even having played in countries such as Indonesia, South Korea, and Russia. Despite this worldwide acclaim, Hatebreed still makes a choice to stop at Toad’s Place on their multi-city romp across the States. To me, this a very special statement. To this band, fans are far more important than big city ticket sales. They want to play their tunes where they know they will be loved. New Haven - their original meeting point and home base - offered an absolutely ideal location. I also have to compliment the tour managers and promoters on the choice of bands. This lineup was ridiculously heavy and even crossed genres while keeping every listener interested. I was very pleased to note that there were fans of all three bands in the crowd that night – and I am sure that the Code Orange and Dying Fetus merch tables did exceptionally well. However, no matter which band you came to see, this was decidedly a Hatebreed concert.

Concert review: The True Mayhem (Live at Irving Plaza) 12-3-17

The True MAYHEM: Alive in New York City

[Legendary Norwegian Black metal band MAYHEM takes the stage at Irving Plaza.]

     Fall: my favorite season is finally upon us. While others may see the changing leaves as an omen of gloom – the descent of nature in preparation for the big freeze – I welcome the crisp air and biting cold with open arms. For metalheads, fall also creates the perfect atmosphere for the eeriest and by far most evil style of extreme music: black metal. No band typifies the mystique surrounding this subgenre more than Norwegian black metal legends MAYHEM. Recently, I had the extremely fortunate opportunity to witness this group play their infamous debut album De Mysteriis Dom Sathanas in its entirety as part of their North American fall/winter tour. It was a chilling experience. Follow me into the depths of a cold New York City on a frozen December evening…

[author's note: the following paragraphs delve into the history of Mayhem as a band.  It does not have anything to do with the concert review. I may, at a future date, use this material for another piece. If you wish to spare yourself the details, scroll down to the section titled "review."]

     Mayhem may just be the most evil band in the world. Their music, shrouded in dark atmosphere and foggy production, can be considered the cornerstone of the Norwegian Black metal scene, thus setting the stage for the expansive subgenre that exists today. However, much of the notoriety surrounding the group stems from the history of the band instead of the music itself. Their talented yet distant vocalist, known simply as “Dead”, committed suicide via shotgun in April of 1991. Though his motivations remain unknown, the aftermath is not a secret: when guitarist and songwriter Euronymous discovered his bandmate’s body, he bought a disposable camera to take photographs of the corpse before alerting the police. Euronymous was intent on using this incident to help bolster Mayhem’s evil image. Rumors swirled that he even picked up pieces of Dead’s shattered skull and mailed them to the “truest” members of the burgeoning Norwegian black metal scene. Though few will confirm this fact, the myth of Mayhem began to spread like wildfire. Soon enough Mayhem and their ambitious songwriter, Euronymous, were beginning to attract a small following at his record store in Oslo, Norway. 

[The classic Mayhem lineup: Jørn "Necrobutcher" Stubberud, Øystein "Euronymous" Aarseth , Per "Dead" Ohlin, and Jan "Hellhammer" Blomberg.]

     Mayhem's obsession with all things demonic and evil was propelled forward through not only their music but through criminal deeds as well. Other members of this small scene (which include groups such as Emperor, Burzum and Hades) participated in the arson of half a dozen churches – symbolic destruction of what they believed to be a repressive, idealistic Christian society. That’s right – these guys burned thousand-year-old wooden stave churches to the ground. However, this notoriety came quickly to a fiery conclusion. In the summer of 1993, Euronymous was brutally stabbed to death by Mayhem bassist Varg Vikernes (also of Norwegian black metal project Burzum). The discovery of “satanists” and church-burners in the peaceful city of Oslo rocked the quiet country of Norway and caused a media frenzy that even reached mainstream news in the USA. This whirlwind of fire, violence, and media coverage consumed the youthful band and they were effectively lost. Within two short years, Mayhem had lost their vocalist to suicide and lead guitarist and songwriter to murder – their bassist behind bars for the slaying. In early May 1994, Vikernes was convicted of murder and church arson and was sentenced to 21 years in prison. Later that month, Mayhem finally released their debut studio album De Mysteriis Dom Sathanas – complete with Vikernes on bass and his victim on guitar. The album was dedicated to Euronymous.

An old Deathlike Silence logo featuring the
classic "No Mosh, No Trends." Euronymous even
dismissed the pleasure-seeking doctrine of the
Church of Satan (lead by Anton Lavey, center) as "too happy."

     Mayhem has released several full length albums since these events, however none have been able to come close to capturing the evil and “true-ness” of what was recorded in Norway in the early 1990’s. De Mysteriis Dom Sathanas stands as a testament to the valiant yet failed efforts of a small, isolated group of musicians to rebel and destroy conceptions of “mainstream” heavy metal music. In fact, this notion of rebellion and dismissal of mainstream metal is perhaps more important than every word of Mayhem personnel gossip and gory lore. Members of the “black metal inner circle” rejected mainstream ideas in metal music : they despised colorful album covers, musicians who wore gym shorts, and bands who toned down the heaviness to achieve widespread acclaim. Euronymous and founding member and bassist Necrobutcher originally founded Mayhem in reaction to the publicity that heavy metal music was receiving from mainstream media circuits. In the eyes of these young musicians, metal wasn’t meant for the masses. Instead, extreme music was to be preserved only for those “true” enough to listen – those committed to the ideals of darkness and evil. Euronymous created his record label Deathlike Silence Productions around this idea. He would only promote groups who were decidedly anti-trend. The catalog number that Euronymous chose for his label (ANTI-MOSH – DMDS is labeled ANTI-MOSH 006, for example) is equally fitting – a direct contrast to the catalog number (MOSH) used by Earache records who promoted many mainstream metal bands such as Morbid Angel. Deathlike Silence was short lived but the message was very clear: this record label was born to represent anti-happiness, anti- trend, and very nearly anti-metal. 

     Mayhem’s later albums don’t break this mold in any way, and they are not throwaways by any means. However, DMDS is the only true Mayhem album in that the craft of Euronymous still remains present – even if his slayer plays bass alongside him on the recording. These days, Mayhem tour cycles are few and far between. When they do play live, however, the performance is spectacular. The band hosts a De Mysteriis Dom Sathanas ritual in which they play their 45 minute, 8 track debut album in its entirety and leave. 

[Nidaros Cathedral (Trondheim, Norway) appears on the cover of DMDS. Allegedly, the 900 year old church was to be burnt down to coincide with the release of the album.]

Review:

     Even knowing what to expect, I could not contain the anticipation inside me as I rallied myself and my good friends Luke and James to head town to New York City to see the ritual performed live at Irving Plaza. Irving Plaza is an awesome venue for metal music. I have visited just once before – this past February – to see the Metal Blade 35^th anniversary tour with Whitechapel and Cattle Decapitation. Even after taking a steel-toe boot to the forehead I was left with a totally positive impression. The bars are abundant and well-stocked, the bathrooms are expansive, and the merch area is large – meaning that the venue can accommodate extremely large spreads of t-shirts, hoodies, and other awesome doo-dads. I was very happy that I secured my ticket in time, because shortly after doors opened the show was sold out. The block-long line disappeared quickly. 

[Death metal veterans Immolation rip through a searing set of death metal.]

    I have primarily focused on the mystique of Mayhem up to this point and I will continue to do so. However, I would be embarrassingly remiss if I failed to mention the brutal death metal display put on by Immolation. I have never delved deeply into the back catalog of these New York death metal giants, but their latest record Atonement is an absolute beast and may just be my favorite release of 2017. As such, I was very happy to catch them promoting this album on the tour with Mayhem. Their death metal sound is sludgy, low-tuned, and dark – the perfect warm-up groove for the demonic sounds to come later. Immolation ripped onto the stage with the first two tracks off of Atonement: “The Distorting Light” and “When the Jackals Come” - boh

brutal tunes laden with creepy melodies. This twangy, dissonant sound is all thanks to founding member and lead guiratist Bob Vigna. His stage presence is both commanding and entertaining. With shaven head and small goatee, Vigna riffs away track after track while also displaying some incredible guitar mobility – at one point playing with his ax flipped upside down: his guitar is a full-arms extension from his body with fret board turned downwards. The only other remaining founding member of the band is vocalist and bassist Ross Dolan, who is an absolute monster on the microphone. His low, guttural growl echoed around the venue with ease, shaking every ribcage in the house. By the tie their short set was over I was totally craving more. During the set change, I wandered over the Immolation merch booth to find none other than Vigna and Dolan themselves behind the table! However, instead of standing idly by meeting fans and signing autographs, the two gentlemen were taking cash and handing out T shirts. I could not believe it. A death metal band of almost thirty years selling their own merch? Unheard of! Without hesitation I bought myself a copy of Atonement from the lead singer himself, sharing with him how completely satisfied I was with their set. After sharing a similar moment of fan-dom with Bob Vigna, I had them both autograph my new CD. No sooner was that complete than I could feel the room packing tighter and tighter around me. A larger crowd had gathered since I had turned my back just minutes before, and the anticipation was climbing second by second. The time was approaching.

     Immolation may have put on an excellent show, but there was only one reason we all stood in that sold out venue: Mayhem. This was one of the most unique concerts I have ever been to for several reasons. Right off of the bat, the concept is something completely original to me and, I assume, to many others in the crowd that night. Most concert-goers are familiar with the concept of a band playing an album in its entirety – if you haven’t been to a show like this, I’m sure you’ve heard of at least one or two. When  this happens these days a band is most likely promoting their newest album (see Insomnium Winter’s Gate and Behemoth The Satanist tours.) A band decides to rip through their newest, freshest work which still leaves room for many surprises for the audience – especially if many in attendance had not yet heard the new work. You would hear new songs, new solos, and even some classic gems thrown into the mix, creating an unpredictable setlist for each night. In the case of a DMDS ritual, however, the situation is completely the opposite. Everyone in the audience knows exactly what to expect – it hasn’t changed since 1994. There will be no improvisation or deviation from the original album at all. This was truly a rare night. The house lights began to dim down and immediately hundreds of glowing cell phones are lofted to the sky in attempt to catch the entrance on video. Quickly, as if tapped on cue, a pre-recorded message from the band plays over the speakers asking the courtesy of the audience in keeping their cell phones pocketed for the show so as to “preserve the atmosphere.” I love the intention here, and it makes perfect sense. The show is meant to be an experience, after all. In addition, any true Mayhem fan is well aware of the bands aversion of publicity. However, few listen and several phones remain held high. I am sure they deal with this every night – hence having a message in the first place.

     Suddenly, the room is plunged into complete darkness. Soft purple lights slowly leak out to reveal a barren stage – empty but for the fog slowly making its way over the crowd. Hellhammer takes his seat behind the drumset to a deafening roar of applause, followed closely by the three guitarists all of whom wear long, hooded black cloaks. It is so dark. Before anyone can make out all of the instrumentalists on the stage, blinding white strobe lights blink to life and, in an instant, the band is off into the blisteringly fast opening track “Funeral Fog.” What a way to start a show, and an album for that matter. All instrumentalists are picking and sticking at breakneck speeds. Stage right is Teloch, lead guitarist and member since 2011. He wears a ghoulish spackling of ash gray and white corpse paint, face barely visible beneath his large black hood. Stage left stand bassist and original member Necrobutcher, who squats low as his thunderous bass shakes the room. To his left is Ghul, guitarist and member since 2012. Twenty year member and influential metal drummer Hellhammer presides above this unholy congregation from his drum set, long black hair flying viciously to the tempo of his legendary blast beats. Lead vocalist Attilla, whose voice is found on the original recording of DMDS, arrives just in time to deliver some of his trademark vocals – a throaty, guttural drawl that beckons the eardrums to the grave. He sports a tattered black robe with ornate gray and gray-er cuffs and seams, along with a giant golden inverted cross. As he writhes and contorts about on stage,purple and blue lights shine up on the members from underneath giving them long, arched shadows that stretch up to the ceiling of the venue. 

    After this track finishes, the crowd roars for the start of Mayhem’s epic, “Freezing Moon.” As if the atmosphere wasn’t eerie enough, the band begins “Freezing Moon”

[Teloch and Attila haunt the crowd at Irving Plaza.]

with the famous snippet of former vocalist Dead beginning the same song from the album Live in Leipzig – an introduction from the grave. As the first haunting cords rang out, I noticed for the first time that a huge mosh pit had erupted in the center of the crowd. I was at once enamored and confused. Everyone who has seen a show with me knows that I love a good mosh. However, I had legitimately expected very little moshing at this show, due mainly to the Mayhem aesthetic and well-known aversion of all things metal and trendy (such as moshing.) I expected that the crowd would be more aligned to this image, and was surprised that the pit did not die down but continued to whirl track after track. The music progressed beautifully, yet the idea of a mosh pit at a Mayhem show began to befuddle me more and more. At the beginning of the classic track “Life Eternal”, it seemed to me that Necrobutcher may have been feeling the same way. “Life Eternal” is a slower and slightly more atmospheric track than others on DMDS. It's also got a haunting backstory – it’s unpublished lyrics were left alongside Dead's suicide note. With this in mind, “Life Eternal” is not just an incredible song: it acts as a form of remembrance for the fallen members of Mayhem. During the guitar intro, Necrobutcher stands tall and, with the crowd’s attention, raises and lowers his arm slowly as if to say “Shhhh! Hey, calm down everyone! We’re trying to do something here!” Was Necrobutcher trying to rally the crowd to become watchers instead of moshers? I can’t be sure. However, I can understand his intentions. I might have reacted similarly if I felt people were paying too much attention playing grab-ass in a mosh pit instead of watching my band perform.

     

[Attila and his altar.]

     Regardless of what the crowd was getting into, the stage show progressed brilliantly. Teloch’s soloing was a perfect replica of Euronymous’s sloppy, unrehearsed guitar drawls found on the original recording. Attila’s vocals were also beyond anything I expected – his creepy, dissonant highs and shocking lows sounded even better than they do on DMDS. For the closer and title track, Attila even performs an operatic section which was at once chilling and fantastic. During this final song, Attila performs from behind an altar at center stage. To his left and right are candles and directly in front of him is a human skull. He belts out the ghastly tune while swaying a puffing incense censer back and forth, back and forth, as if hypnotizing the crowd. Eventually he walks to the front of the stage with the skull and microphone in the same hand, howling his vocals directly into the skull itself. The show ends with a flash of purple lights and a puff of smoke. Mayhem is gone as quickly as they came.

     Knowing exactly when the show was going to end was a huge plus. With the knowledge that there would be no encore, we jetted out of Irving Plaza, down 15^th St, and into the labyrinthine subway station to catch a rail back home. Unbelievably, we were riding the 4 train to Grand Central station just six minutes after we had left the venue. With my trusty knapsack lashed to my back, I smiled at the image of the enormous coat check line at that very moment. After a quick pit stop at the street vendor outside GC terminal (a God send) we departed on our Metro North train without incident. On our long ride back, my mind was spinning with the ironies and contradictions I had witnessed at the show tonight. There was moshing at a Mayhem show? Did Necrobutcher (or any other member, for that matter) have a problem with that? And what’s with the cell phones? Why did so many people feel the need to document with technology instead of their minds? I found myself profoundly confused. I had truly enjoyed the show, that is no doubt. But did others enjoy it in the same way I did? Do the Mayhem members wish the crowd acted differently? This is certaintly a possibility. In reality, a lot of what transpired at Irving Plaza was in direct opposition to the original intent of Mayehm: the crowd screamed and cheered for a band that used to seek to repulse fans with displays of blood and gore on stage. While many stood silently and let their souls be taken away by the eerie music, many also ignored the show and chose to focus on moshing or recording. I just have to point out that the bar was even serving Mayhem themed drinks that night, Now, I know what many are thinking: if this many people are so enthralled Mayhem, they should be happy! Isn’t the point of any band to become famous and well known? To spread your music

[Mayhem themed drinks?]

to the world? Actually, in the case of Mayhem, the original intention was the complete opposite. Euronymous once said that Mayhem’s debut EP Deathcrush was only to be given to a small number if individuals he deemed “worthy of hearing it.” Now, Deathcrush can be accessed by anyone who knows how to work YouTube. They were simply musicians doing what musicians do - rebel. They wanted no fame, no acclaim, because they simply wanted to be making black metal. Would Euronymous have wanted thousands of people filming shows of his band?  I will not say, for that would be impossible to determine with any degree of cetainty. I do, however, have a mental image of his face after hearing someone order "one Deathcrush, add lime" - he's not smiling. In any case it is clear to this fan that the modern conception of a Mayhem concert is obviously at odds with the original intention of the band.  That being said, this is an opinion of a fan who knows a bit of the history behind the evolution of black metal as a musical genre. To the listener and watcher, my Mayhem experience was an absolute spectacle. Because most of black metal is characterized by "necro" (poor) production, live music created some of the best sounding Mayhem tunes I have ever heard. The behavior of the band members is theatircal - aloof, but aware they are being watched intently. The theatrics are far from corny. Some moments of this concert, such as Atilla screaming into the skull, were legitimately frightening. I would highly recommend a Mayhem show to anyone – metal fan or not. The atmosphere, instrumentation, and overall theatric display is unparalleled. If you are fortunate to have Mayhem pass through your town, do not miss it. My advice? Stand still, close your eyes and follow the freezing moon.

Concert review: Cannibal Corpse (Live at The Royale) 11-28-17

 
Review: CANNIBAL CORPSE & Power Trip live @ The Royale (Boston, MA)

Tour poster courtesy of Royale Boston and CANNIBAL CORPSE.

 In this world of constant change there is very little we can rely on to deliver consistent results. Fortunately, fans of heavy metal music have been graced with an exception to this pesky principle: the always heavy, perpetually brutal music of death metal titans Cannibal Corpse. After rising to fame in the booming early 90’s death metal scene Cannibal Corpse has achieved legendary status in the metal community and are arguably the most famous and well-known death metal band on the planet. Since their 1990 debut Eaten Back to Life, Cannibal has been altered bu only a handful of personnel changes. While some may favor the raw intensity of their early work with vocalist Chris Barnes, others prefer the newer, more modern direction the band has taken with George “Corpsegrinder” Fisher holding the microphone. Still, others may be drawn to the group due to their status as one of the most controversial bands in the world. Cannibal Corpse’s intense lyrics and gorey album covers have been subject to censorship or complete blacklisting in several countries around the world. In an ironic fashion, this negative press has seemed to heighten interest in the band for newcomers who may have never heard classic songs like “Meat Hook Sodomy”, “Entrails Ripped from a Virgin’s Cunt”, “Frantic Disembowelment” and….you get the picture. Whatever your affiliation with the band, one thing remains the same: for almost three decades, Cannibal Corpse has continued to deliver bone crushing death metal album after album. Their latest release Red Before Black is no exception – which is exactly what we wanted.

     Much like their timeless music, a Cannibal Corpse concert doesn’t exactly reinvent the wheel. A Cannibal Corpse show is, in a sense, about as old school as it gets. Fans who have seen a Cannibal play live once should know exactly what to expect the second third, and tenth time around: a lot of songs, a lot of moshing, and some friendly banter between Corpsegrinder and the crowd. That’s about it. There are no stage props, no microphone stands, and no décor -  aside from two fat stacks of Marshall amplifiers. All three guitarists take the stage in the same exact places and do not move or rotate sides for the entire show. (I’m serious, look up any live photographs. Same exact places every time.) Transitions between songs are short and announced only by the name – if at all. When one considers this aesthetic monotony, it is amazing that each Cannibal Corpse concert continues to be an absolute spectacle for everyone in attendance. I have seen Cannibal Corpse play live five times and each performance – though identically similar for the band members -  has been unique and special for me as a fan. This is the reason why I show up every time they are on tour. This time around, the decision was even simpler. Cannibal was going to be on the road with one of the hungriest and most headbangable bands in modern metal: Power Trip. No brainer. It was off to the Royale in Boston for me.

     I arrived in Beantown on a chilly November evening realizing that the Royale is one of the few metal venues in Boston I had yet to vist. Needless to say, I was very excited for a new experience. I have previously seen Cannibal Corpse in Boston at the House of Blues, which is an enormous venue, and at the Paradise Rock Club, which is a bit bigger than a sweatbox. The Royale was a prefect happy medium between both choices. Though it is about half the capacity of HOB, it maintained a similar level of service and value for the ticket price. The staff at Royale was very nice and helpful: they provided a low-priced coat check, decently priced draft beer, and (get ready for it) clean bathrooms. I’m not really a stickler for things like this. However, as an overzealous music venue employee myself, it is always nice to see a venue going the extra mile for their patrons. It is, however, clearly a club venue. Patrons walk up to the second floor of the building to get to general admission – the venue is almost completely hidden from a street view. When I saw the bulky crowd of over 1000 squirming their way up the tiny staircase and onto the beer-soaked hardwood floor, I knew we were all in for a hell of a night.

[Riley Gale (center vocals) addresses the crowd during a break in PT's set.]

     As I mentioned before, a huge selling point of coming out to this specific tour was getting a chance to see Power Trip – one of the hungriest bands in modern metal scene -play a live show. In fact, I had been waiting for this opportunity since I first heard these Dallas thrashers rip through their latest release Nightmare Logic. Nightmare Logic, the group’s second full length, clocks in at just over a half hour long – and every second keeps your head banging. Just ask Scott Ian! Upon first listen, I had to admit that (a huge thrash metal fan) I was also blown away at their old school approach to the classic crossover thrash sound. While bands like D.R.I. and Suicidal Tendencies may have perfected this sound in their prime, Power Trip is a breath of fresh air in a subgenre that may be growing stale.

[If you can tickle the "thrash-bone" of Anthrax genius Scott Ian, you've officially recorded a ripping track. From @scottianthrax.]

     Lead guitarist Blake Ibanez is an absolutely thrilling guitarist whose solos could easily be slipped into an Anthrax or Megadeth song without notice. Nightmare Logic also has a diversity in tempo that keeps every track different and interesting -  the pace of songs ranges from blistering fast thrash-oriented rippers (“Firing Squad”) to chuggy, thick tunes guaranteed to leave your neck sore (“Soul Sacrifice.) Their frontman, Riley Gale, performs fast and quick vocals covering classic thrash themes such as war, violence, and overall brutality of human existence.  Their stage performance was equally as energetic and lively as their music. As the pit grew wider and wider, I looked around and noticed that the crowd was full of tons of PT fans – I obviously jumped on the bandwagon very late. People screamed along devilishly to track after track, feeding frontman Riley Gale the energy he needed to deliver some acrobatic jumps, karate kicks, and microphone stand whirling. I was surprised that this band, who is youthful to say the least, has attracted so much energy and buzz after only two full-length albums. In the larger world, PT has been touring extensively for almost all of 2017, supporting legendary metal acts such as Exodus, Obituary, and Trivium. They also recently performed live at the Loudwire music awards after winning 2017 Song of the Year award for their single “Executioner’s Tax (Swing of the Axe”.) This press, however, means nothing. It was their live show that completely sold me on this band. Interestingly, several of the older metalheads in the crowd whom I spoke with – a few who confessed to being completely fed up with most model metal acts – admitted they really, really liked the PT sound and their fresh take on an old-school style of thrash. To me, this really speaks to their potential to become a huge force in the metal music scene. They have a style youthful and energetic enough to entertain a young crowd while also showing their roots and allowing older, seasoned metalheads to encounter something familiar for the first time. Next time they pull into your town, make sure you are there.

[Lead guitarist Blake Ibanez shreds away.]

     When it comes to Cannibal Corpse, well…the history has already been made. Their first four albums are often regarded as some of the cornerstones of death metal genre – and rightly so. Eaten Back to Life and Tomb of the Mutilated have produced classic tracks that still ring out through concert venues to this day. However, I have noticed a small divide in some places. I have met several Cannibal Corpse fans over the years who have had difficulty getting past the vocalist change from Chris Barnes to Corpsegrinder. This is understandable. At the same time, many fans are completely satisfied with Corpsegrinder and find him to be a perfect replacement for Barnes. I myself am very happy that the band was able to continue with Corpsegrider, who has an excellent personality and is great with fans (unlike the rumors that swirl around the moody Barnes.) 

     At the Royale, the death metal masters of almost thirty years performed just as I as expected – absolutely brutally. Per usual, they tore onto the stage with the slow, sludgey single from their latest album – in this case, “Code of the Slashers.” I figured out within the first fifteen seconds of this song that Boston had showed up in force: people flew, hair whipped, and several snot rockets smote the stage. As the crowd expanded and contracted with each passing riff, I couldn’t resist getting slammed around for a while myself – I had to jump into the mosh pit for crowd favorites “Scourge of Iron” and “Evisceration Plague.”  About halfway through the set, I was coming back from a much needed sloppy sink drink break in the restroom when I heard Corpsegrinder bellow out the title of my personal favorite CC song– “The Wretched Spawn.” I immediately began to carve my way through the crowd (dodging flying bodies and fists), across the beer-soaked mosh pit (trying not to end up on my back) and, as if by a miracle, found myself chest to front railing. I’m still not sure how it worked out so perfectly, but I was in the front row about six feet from a growling Corpsegrinder. Needless to say. I didn’t move for the rest of the evening.

     As I mentioned before, a Cannibal Corpse show isn’t exactly a spectacle in the theatrical sense – unless you would consider five oversized old dudes headbanging for ninety minutes to be over the top. However, my vantage point had never been better. From this perch, I could see the intricacies of every riff, watch the string bends on every solo, and hear Corpsegrinder’s unintelligible growl as never before. This goes without saying, but Alex Webster puts on a clinic every time he picks up a guitar. The enigmatic bassist and founding member of Cannibal Corpse barely looks up from under his billowing mane of blond hair the entire set – save to throw up the horns at the conclusion of a handful of songs. For the rest of the show, he stands as a statue while playing his incredibly fast and complex music with the ultimate dexterity. The intensity of his guitar playing is incredible for man of almost fifty. The same goes for the incredibly skilled Rob Barrett – I could follow the hand motions of both of these guitar giants while letting the music ring out around me.

[Alex Webster mid-shred.]

     
     Through the set, the band ripped through 5 tracks from their new album – an obvious show of their confidence in their new work. However, by the end of the night, they had played tracks from twelve of their fourteen albums – a statistic which needs no summary or explanation. Though every Cannibal Corpse show may be aesthetically similar, they always seek to mix up a setlist and deliver a couple of surprises to the fans -  in this case “Gutted” and “Pounded into Dust” being tracks I have never head live. Per habitude, they finish off with the classic “Hammer Smashed Face” and leave the scene without another word. Corpsegrider does not bend down to shake hands. Rob Barrett hands his guitar to his tech and heads back to the green room. Alex Webster could very easily walk to the front of the stage and throw out a hundred picks to a hundred screaming fans at the end of the set – however he does not. Leaving the stage, he turns around and puts up his horns once more, nodding slowly in appreciation for the numbers who have showed up time and time again. Though the members of the group may have aged with the genre itself, they have remained humbly dominant. CANNIBAL CORPSE hasn’t left a mark on the death metal genre – they left a brand. 

[An excellent souvenir - front row perks!]

*all photographs (unless mentioned otherwise) are property of the author and will be treated as such*

Château Versailles: Experiences as a modern day courtier

Château Versailles: My experience as a modern day courtier

[The gilded front gate of the Palace Versailles]

     The château of Versailles is one of the most remarkable displays of wealth in the modern world. Situated a modest distance from the French capital city, this world-famous destination represents the epitome of decadence – which is incredible considering it is over three centuries old.  Even in today’s world, which is filled with glorious architecture and overwhelming displays of wealth (see cities like Dubai and Shanghai) Versailles and its grounds continue to amaze the thousands of tourists who walk through its gilded gates every day. If we consider the fact that today’s society still marvels over this aging European spectacle, one can only imagine the effect it had on those who lived and functioned within its walls during the palace’s time of prominence.

[An artist's depiction of Versailles during the reign of Louis XIV (photo courtesy of The Met. Museusm of Art.)]

     Versailles is probably best known as the royal dominion of the French monarchy under Louis XIV. Beginning in the mid-17^th century, Louis XIV and his court of more than one thousand courtiers lodged at the decadent château Versailles, which contains more than seven hundred rooms. Despite the abundance of money, servants, and “the royal treatment”, life here was extremely stressful for just about everyone except the le Roi Soleil. In fact, like the sun itself, the days at the palace Versailles virtually rose and set around Louis. Each of these thousand courtiers stumbled hands over feet to please the king’s every whim. Throngs of nobles, eager to gain royal favor, waited in line outside the royal bedchamber every morning to catch a glimpse of the lever du roi (for non-francophones, that’s literally the moment the kings gets out of bed.) Courtiers also watched him go to sleep, eat, play billiards, and even go to the bathroom – all while staying within the strictest lines of etiquette. However, many nobles struggled to keep up with ever-changing trends in manners, daily routine and even fashion. To falter outside these guidelines meant exclusion from the castle, loss of noble title and perhaps even forfeit of possessions. Despite the immense amount of pride and wealth that comes with being a staple at Versailles, many men lost their fortunes and livelihoods chasing the dream of acceptance. When one subtracts the decadence, ornate architectural features and priceless artwork that adorn every inch of usable space, the walls of the palace take on a repressive, almost demanding demeanor. While standing in the accessible rooms of Versailles as an easy-going tourist with a camera, it’s necessary to remember just how incredibly taxing it would have been to live here for a single day.

[A decadent corner piece, surrounded by priceless paintings, is just an example of the detail that lines every inch of Versailles.]

     Fortunately, Versailles offers an equally luxurious place to escape these daily tribulations – the world-famous palace gardens. These gardens, which stretch miles beyond the bounds of the main building, are equally as ornate and perhaps even more impressive than the chateau itself. A man-made water feature (which is deceptively immense) is surrounded by a maze of property including thousands of decorative topiaries, more than four hundred marble statues, two mini-châteaux, and several additional private gardens. In this historical period, palace gardens served as a place for nobles to stroll and walk during the beautiful spring and summer months whether it be with their families, mistresses, or both. Speaking as one who has now twice visited these grounds, it would be nearly impossible to see everything in one visit. As such, a stressed courtier could spend an afternoon decompressing in the gardens for a month and never visit the same spot twice. Considering the insurmountable pressure of trying to keep up behavioral codes inside the chateau, these gardens became a priceless refuge for the many courtiers fighting that cyclical battle for royal favor. Inside the walls, every facet of life was subject to the most minute scrutiny. However, a simple stroll in the gardens allowed one to breathe deeply, listen to the sounds of the fountains and birds, and forget the tumult that awaited you upon your return.

[The château seen from the palace gardens.]

As I sat on the sweltering RER train en route back to Paris, I couldn’t help but realize how closely my experience at Versailles mirrored the lifestyle present there in the mid to late 17^th century. Touring the inside of the château is breathtaking. However, due to the immense crowding and meticulous security, the tour is also quite overwhelming. Once your self-guided tour begins, there is only one route for visitors to take – a single path that leads from room to room to room until the end of the tour. This elegant one-way street is often cornered off with retractable barriers to remind the curious wanderer of the correct path. Any guest who attempts to reverse into a previous room after leaving (perhaps to gaze again at a beautiful painting or take another look at the elegantly staged furniture) is sternly reminded by a château employee that il faut avancer – keep moving forward. There is such an employee reminding all guests of the correct etiquette stationed in just about every room. Towards the end of the tour, visitors have the option to stop by café Angelina for some world famous hot chocolate. Yet even at this small watering hole, visitors must sit down and finish their drinks or meals before heading back into the halls of the château. Once finished with the entire tour guests are funneled down a beautiful stone staircase, through the giftshop, and out the door. By the time I made it to the bottom floor, I had had just about enough of the interior of the castle.

[Versailles' famed "Hall of Mirrors"]

     However, what awaited me outside was beyond spectacular. The freedom that I found in the boundless gardens was an absolute breath of fresh air compared to the stifling, regulated pace of the château’s interior. After a delicious lunch, I decided to follow a random footpath that circled long and wide around the sparkling pond. Along my stroll, I encountered a family of cranky swans, some heat-subdued ducks, and spent a mile or so walking with the sun on my face. This short stroll brought me to a completely secluded knoll where I stretched out to read. Without realizing I had fallen asleep, I awoke shortly thereafter to find myself gazing across a beautiful vista and pond – no stressful château in sight. On my return to the palace, I (and about a hundred strangers) stopped to marvel at the one of a kind fountain which was exploding streams of water at full force – a treat that, as I later learned, only happens several days of the year. Soon the day began to pass and I decided it was high-time to head back to Paris.

[The gilded fountain of Versailles in action.]

     As I elbowed my way through the crowds surrounding the chateau exit, I felt the pressure and sensation of frustration rise in me again. Why are more than ¾ of the rooms here inaccessible? Who made it so one isn’t allowed to explore at their own free will? And what’s with all the selfie sticks? Luckily, all I had to do was remember my relaxing day in the gardens to bring myself back town to a reasonable level of calm. Just about three hundred years ago, only the noblest of the noble could lay eyes on these grounds. Today, I woke up refreshed and relaxed on the very same lawns, surrounded by good friends and serenity. Take that, authoritarian monarchy!

*all photographs (unless mentioned otherwise) are property of the author and will be treated as such*