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*

Concert review: BEHEMOTH (Live at Webster Hall) 4-23-16

VIVA BLASFEMIA!- My trip to the City that Never Sleeps

-BEHEMOTH: Live in New York City-

      As a New Haven resident, I am perfectly positioned smack-dab in between two of America’s greatest cities - Boston and New York. These two historic towns typically end up being subsequent stops on a North American concert tour, giving concert junkies like myself the awesome option of being able to choose between either Metropolis for a night out when my favorite band is in town. Typically, I opt to go to shows in Boston- a two and a half hour commute into a maze of tangled streets and horn-happy drivers- and the Boston House of Blues is where I first saw Polish extreme-metalers Behemoth play a long opening set for death metal legends Cannibal Corpse. Though Corpsegrinder and company gave the audience their fill of classic death metal fare, blasting through a lengthy setlist with barely enough break to introduce each song, that February night  was truly stolen by Behemoth. This epic three-piece band opened the evening with such visceral energy and an incredible visual performance that myself (and my friends Luke and Zak, who joined me that night) swore that we would never miss another Behemoth concert as long as we lived. A little over a year passed before the opportunity presented itself again. I woke one cold winter’s morning to learn that Behemoth was to embark on their “Blasfemia Amerika” US headlining tour- playing their latest album “The Satanist” (an absolute gem of modern extreme metal) in its entirety. Like clockwork, the timeless dilemma for a New Haven resident presented itself again: Beantown or The Big Apple? Luke was first on the case and opted for the New York City date, figuring a Behemoth show to be an excellent birthday present for his girlfriend Mary. I couldn’t have agreed more. I could now invite my girlfriend Cheryl, who would be happy to have a female companion to share a first Behemoth experience with. This time, and for the first time, we were on our way to Webster Hall- New York City bound.

     That Saturday, after speeding home from work and scarfing down a DiBella’s sub, I wrangled Cheryl and Zak and we met our Branford companions at the West Haven train station (free weekend parking!) The train arrived promptly and Cheryl and I took our seats in the double chair across the aisle from our companions, all of whom kicked shoes off and quickly settled in for the travel ahead. About halfway through the ride, our empty car was suddenly filled with about eleven British businessmen and women enjoying a short trek to Grand Central terminal and the car was suddenly significantly livelier. Groups such as these, whether cracking jokes or beers, came and went in handfuls. As conversation floated around the speeding steel machine I found it interesting to observe the different types of commuters who use the MetroNorth rail for work transportation. I heard everything from stock talk, politics, work gossip and the occasional foreign language bounce off the walls, forcing me to realize how convenient this service must be to bypass I-95 traffic or as a substitute for driving altogether. Any commuter can sit and pop open a laptop, a book to read, a movie to watch, or start a conversation with a stranger to pass the time productively on the way to work in lieu of the hazardous, fast paced highway commute. Ourselves, we spent two hour sojourn taking turns passing around a Ziploc bag full of chocolate chip cookies and letting the excitement bubble within us like so much Ginger Ale chaser. Luke, Zak, and I had an idea of what we were in for at the Webster Hall (in fact, we’d been waiting for it for a year), but neither of the girls did- and we did our best to hype them up for the spectacle to follow. We soon came to a halt at Grand Central station. Stepping off the train made me realize how easily and truly efficient this commute was- especially for a concert goer like myself. As I inhaled the musky, mechanical New York smell I pictured myself struggling to find parking outside of Boston’s Paradise Rock Club or the House of Blues, and kicked myself inside for not having previously giving this simple train ride a chance. For a little more than $30, I had substituted a traffic-laden full car drive into Boston’s maze of streets for a 2 hour laugh fest with my friends on the rails. We connected with a one-shot subway ride (the 4 Train towards Union Square) and stepped into the evening sunlight a little less than a quarter mile from the venue. In hindsight, everything from the MetroNorth rail, to the Grand Central subway connection, to the walk to the venue fell in to place so perfectly it was almost as if we had walked these same steps before. Fortunately, they lead us right to the marquee of Webster Hall- and none could suppress the chill creeping down their spine as the final cigarettes were snubbed short outside of the venue.

[Zak, Mary, Luke, Cheryl and I in Grand Central Terminal]

    My first complete shock of the night came after I climbed the narrow staircase to Webster Hall’s main floor and found myself at Behemoth’s merch table with no wallet- no money AND no return train ticket. Panicked, I realized that it couldn’t have gone far because I was ID'd only moments ago at the entrance. I hauled ass back downstairs to the security checkpoint to find that precious leather bifold waiting patiently for me in front of a staff member atop her podium. Huge shout out to Webster Hall for having honest, alert employees who even went the extra mile to check my ID when I went to claim my possessions. At any venue, I could easily imagine my wallet being lost and trampled in the dark entryway or being picked up by the “finder’s keepers” type. However this was not the case at the Webster and I consider myself extremely lucky for the honesty and consciousness presented by the staff members at the door. I made a beeline for the bar upstairs, and Brooklyn lager in hand, I stood patiently next to the giant, my beautiful girlfriend, my best friend, and the birthday girl awaiting the arrival of Nergal, Inferno and Orion: the monsters of Behemoth.

   If you haven’t heard of Behemoth or are unfamiliar with the band, it’s quite necessary to understand a bit of background information that pertains to their musical style and influence over modern extreme metal. Behemoth was formed in the mid 1990's and for several grainy EP's and self-releases, maintained a classic black metal sound. From the Pagan Vastlands and haunting tracks such as "Moonspell Rites" basically codify Behemoth's early black metal ambitions, bt change was not far away. Behemoth did not see much of the spotlight untill their 2000 release “Thelema.6” (“Christians to the Lions”, anybody?), where the band began to mix death metal elements such as growled vocals and jackhammer blast beats into their eerie black metal sound. Since then, Behemoth has not only blazed the trail for the Polish metal scene but has used their extreme image and lyrics to situate themselves at the forefront of a genre that seamlessly blends both black and death metal into one unholy, earthshaking sound. Their lyrics and image play heavily on classic satanic themes: but this is not the bubble-gum, accessible version Satanism found in bands like King Diamond or Ghost. Behemoth is, in a word, serious. A short look at a physical copy of any of their albums reveals a universe of intricate album artwork and liner notes with a coinciding explanation of the context surrounding the creation of each song. I have yet to see a band put an attention to detail to their physical releases equal to that presented on their celebrated album “Evangelion”, for example. 

[Artwork from an early Behemoth release follows the typical norm for a 90's black metal band - you can see this format on the releases of groups such as Darkthrone and Mayhem - both of whom Nergal cites as strong influences. Artwork courtesy of BEHEMOTH.]

Behemoth is visceral, dark, and lyrically intense to the core. Their anti-religious message is methodically produced by an educated frontman: Adam ‘Nergal’ Darski. Darski, a self-proclaimed “heretic”, is the main songwriter for the band and is responsible for both Behemoth’s poetic lyrics and blacked, dissonant sound. He studied History for more than six years at Poland’s University of Gdańsk- enough education to be a certified museum curator. In 2007, Nergal was publicly charged with “blasphemy” after ripping up a Bible and denouncing the Catholic Church onstage which, now, has become a fairly common Behemoth live show feat. He eventually beat the charge in the Polish Supreme Court. Recently, Darski has gained more public attention due to his successfully defeating ‘terminal’ leukemia after receiving a bone marrow transplant. As if success against such a mortal disease wasn’t enough, Behemoth re-emerged with their latest album The Satanist which was universally acclaimed by critics and metalheads alike. The Satanist marked a return to a more black metal influenced sound for the band. Slower tracks like the sludgy intro "Blow Your Trumpets Gabriel" and the epic closer "O Father, O Satan, O Sun!" drone on with a classic simple-riff black metal style. This pace is easily disrupted by fast-paced rippers such as "Amen" are complete with blast beats and guitar solos sure to leave the neck sore. All ears happily feasted upon a slew of progressive instrumental sections as well as the classic black riffage that these Polish shredders have become well known for. Behemoth was proud to display this album on this ‘Blasfemia Amerika’ tour- a 13 city romp across the nation- which the six of us were lucky enough to behold together in the City that Never Sleeps.

[Behemoth takes the stage in NYC.]

     Behemoth’s live performance is exactly what one would expect from the turbulent, cosmically demonic music that spawns forth from the four musicians on stage. it is impossible to pry the eyes from the action on stage. The show is an absolute visual spectacle. The band blasts through riff after riff under dark red lights, which subtly change from cool blue, to a deep purple and, at points, an earthy green as the group progresses from song to song. These simple changes in lighting only amplify the eerie and bone-chilling performance this band puts on. Each member is dressed as if caught between the grave and the throne room - ornately adorned in torn black leather, metal studs and various dangling straps and chains. They all wear their own sloppy, haphazardly smeared form of corpse paint. Their faces appear a blinding white mixed with smears of coal black and ash grey - a placid color pattern that gives all members, especially Nergal, the eerie appearance of being fresh out of the coffin. If Behemoth momentarily picks up the pace for a track or two, Inferno’s intense blast-beat drumming is mimicked by a rapid, blinding strobe that sends the entire venue into a trance of chaos.  Behemoth’s microphone stands are also completely unique in my experience and are certainly a main focus of the stage setup. At the center of the stand is Behemoth’s symbol- the “Unholy Trinity”- a small fire closed within the boundaries of a triangle. Two giant Cobra snake heads grow from this center and wind their way upwards, making themselves perfect guards for Nergal who brandishes his guitar and growls out lyrics from the center of this ensemble. These intricate microphone stands give each band member an air of power, evil power, much as a tyrant king threateningly wields his scepter of choice. At the perimeter both bassist Orion and live member Seth stand well over six feet tall, and command the attention of the crowd from their respective sides of the stage. They switch places only a few times during the entire set. 

[Some deep concentration displayed by the Behemoth frontman.]

One of the things I remember well about my first Behemoth concert in Boston was Nergal's incredible ability to energize an entire venue by himself. Nergal, who appears significantly smaller than his fellow instrumentalists, belts out his demonic vocals with ease and coaxes the crowd into roaring chants - inciting a little chaos of his own from his pulpit. For fan-favorite “Ora Pro Nobis Lucifer”, Nergal adjusts his thoughts to the tempo of the drumming before standing atop a stage amplifier to ignite the audience into chants. With one timely fist thrust into the air, the entire venue follows suit in perfect cadence- “HEY! HEY! HEY! HEY!”

[Nergal offers communion to those within reach.]

This control over the audience is almost mesmerizing to behold and is another reason why the theatrics of Behemoth’s live performance are so memorable. During a small break in the thrashing, chaotic madness of the concert Nergal enters the stage alone, illuminated by a simple white spotlight. He holds, on a golden chain, a dangling censer (an ornate incense burner used by the Catholic Church during funerals) and sways the reeking smoke from side to side across the expanse of the crowd. As if this wasn’t spooky enough, Nergal soon reaches for his handful of communion wafers and approaches the audience. As the hooded, face painted prophet leans over the crowd hundreds of the closest hands are thrust into the space above, gravitating towards the frontman in attempt to take part in this blasphemic display. After a dozen people are given their communion, Nergal turns the soft cookies to crumbs in his hands and tosses the dust into the air. The crowd is in awe - some aghast, some confused, some happily consumed by the presence of the man in front of them. 

[Nergal meditates mid-stage]

[Orion in full costume for "O Father, O Satan, O Sun!"]

The whole band becomes a spectacle of their own for the final song off of The Satanist, titled “O Father, O Satan, O Sun!” The stage is dark, undefined, and only through a faint red light can one make out the members of the group now. Wearing floor length black cloaks, three hooded figures have sprouted a large set of horns. The group chugs and growls its way through this epic, progressive song which is well worth the listen for both musical prowess and lyrical intensity. All in attendance stood relatively still to behold this ballad of darkness. Those in the audience that night ranged from seasoned metalheads- (I met two from New York City and one from Long Island who had also been waiting patiently for Behemoth’s return to the States after the 2015 winter tour with Cannibal Corpse) to first-time viewers who were completely new to the concept. Cheryl, who I caught with a curious grin several times, told me that she enjoyed herself thoroughly. “Between the face paint, the snake stands, and the music itself…I wasn’t scared. I liked it a lot. It wasn’t too much,” she explained to me. “The crazy face paint, costumes, and blood matched the music and it wasn’t overdone, it was very dark but it all seemed to make sense.” I can completely see what she is talking about, and the fact that a first-time viewer can notice the comprehensive, fine-tuned performance that Behemoth gives is a true testament to their meticulous creativity. There are no holes in the argument, no lapses in image the entire time. It is rough, rugged, and demonically well prepared.

     Behemoth exits the stage twice that night- coming back for the final time covered in a red blood that stands out in stark contrast against their paint-whitened skin. By this point, I could tell that the show was near closure and I could only wish that it would go on for a bit longer. That, ladies and gentlemen, is my only complaint about the entire night - and I’m sure any band would love to hear that the only disparaging comment made by anyone was that they wanted a little bit more music. They opted to leave out some of their classic tracks- “Ov Fire and the Void” was notably absent- however the show ended with the powerful “Chant for Eschaton 2000” and a satisfied crowd emerged back onto the streets of New York a little before 11 PM.


I’ve got to say, one of the coolest parts of my evening came as I sat on the floor of Grand Central terminal with my friends stuffing our mouths with French fries. Luke and I were bullshitting rather loudly as gentleman-probably 40 years old- in a Behemoth shirt walked by or group. As our eyes locked momentarily, a smile curled up the sides of his face and he stuck out his hand to shake mine. “Did you have a good time tonight?” I asked this gentle stranger.

“Hell yes! Inferno, he signed this drumstick for me. It was wild, man, wild.” Luke asked to borrow the drumstick for minute observations, and as he twiddled the small wooden stick, the stranger must have noticed my perplexed expression. “You don’t recognize me, do you? Remember me?”

I was (among other things) baffled. “No,” I apologized. “I can’t recall…”

“Ghost, man! Ghost in New Haven! I remember you, and this giant over here, telling me you two would be at Behemoth! And here we are, huh!” He laughed.

    Huh indeed. Here I am -  in the busiest train station in the entire country, in the one of the most famous, most densely populated cities in the world and someone I have met but once before recognizes me. Not only that, we were able to hold a small conversation about an experience we both shared once upon a time. To me, this is why I love this metal music scene- the experiences we share in the crowd defy time and space. If you’ve seen a band play an incredible set in Boston you can easily converse with someone who saw the same band in Arizona- “Oh man, you almost died in that pit too?” If the last time you saw Cannibal Corpse was in a sweatbox club in the early 2000’s you might just want to hear about what happened at the sold-out 2,000 person show at the Paramount…unless you were there too. From regional show to regional show, you may meet someone who was in the same crowd as you, spilling beer on your solder or passing a helping hand underneath you as you rocked out atop the crowd. I’m proud I could have shared my experience this night with such a great group of friends. Thanks Cheryl, Luke, Mary, Zak, Nergal, the Webster Hall, Metro North and New York City for a superb night. Until next time…non servium!

[Behemoth confronts the audience during their final encore.]

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