Maryland Deathfest: Day 3 -Live at Ram’s Head Live & Edison Sound Stage, Baltimore, MD

Posted on June 11, 2014 by News Team

Saturday

Ramen is truly some food of the god. I subsisted on all of Friday and most of Saturday with the aid of four of these magick squares. Only a dollar each at —you guessed it— Dollar Tree. Stock up for the apocalypse on that shit.

Ramen unfortunately couldn’t help Diocletian’s very evil brand of blackened death be more than an okay attempt at the sound of canned hell. Dark, swirling riffs and blasts ringing from bottomless pits is cool, but variety is severely lacking. Entrails, however, came to save my life —or end it, rather?— with their sticky, sweet old school Swedish Death Metal, complete with a logo that looks suspiciously like Entombed’s.

Spain’s Machetazo brought yet more evil to the fore with their wicked gore/death inflected grind, en Español. Hearkening to bands like Regurgitate and fellow countrymen Hæmorrhage, they seem uninterested in being unique (and with Grind, that’s quite a feat), just brutal, and they’ve certainly succeeded in that regard.

God Macabre, yet another group of old school Swedish Death heroes long forgotten, made their first appearance in the U.S. here, and probably was in the top three bands most likely given to old ladies if they asked fest-goers what “concert” they were heading to. With only one full length to their name, ‘The Winterlong’, you could probably guess the setlist, plus a cover of a Carnage song. Forget which one, but it was damn near heartwarming when vocalist Per Boder smiled in delight when the crowd reacted positively to the name of their fellow deathheads. “I guess they’re not so underrated after all.” You bet’cher ass, bud.

When one thinks of progressive death metal, Florida’s Nocturnus (A.D.) should ideally be what comes to mind alongside acts like Pestilence, Atheist, and Death, though admittedly I hadn’t heard of them until I saw their name on the line-up. Playing their seminal album The Key in full, Nocturnus prove that synths don’t necessarily have to end up sounding cheesy when used alongside brutal music.

Vocalist/drummer Mike Browning (ex-Morbid Angel) seemed to be having loads of fun blasting and growling simultaqneously for such uplifting tunes as ‘Standing In Blood’, ‘Lake Of Fire’, and even a special cover of ‘Chapel Of Ghouls’, how rad’s that shit, homie? I think they even played a Death cover, but I could just have been imagining it. Setlist.fm isn’t helping my case.

The original Speed Metal Drunks (who’s Municipal Waste?) in Germany’s Tankard were clearly not hammered enough; they could still play their instruments. The crowd was one-upping the fuck out of them, however, with a beer-soaked circlepit despite the blazing sun cooking them through. Songs about zombies, and beer. Party. It’s fun stuff, though not the absolute greatest that thrash, has to offer, nor is it the best that humour has to offer, but these krazy Krauts won’t fail to get a chuckle or headbang out of you.

Finally taking my non-drunk self to the Soundstage to catch DropDead for my third or fourth helping this Gregorian year, I first caught Sweden’s d-beat heroes in Victims. They play a version of the genre that reminds me of Martyrdöd, with more melody than is normally allowed, and less ear-fucking distortion, though weren’t quite as captivating as I would hope. Had they played it straight Swedish and aped Anti-Cimex or even Finnish contemporaries (all Scandinavians are the same, right?) in Riistetyt and Kieltolaki, I dare say they’d be more what I was seeking. DropDead, however, are consistent in their delivery, combining crust punk, powerviolence, and d-beat cooked the right way; raw and still bloody.

Between socio-political and generally ‘wake-the-fuck-up’ rants came short but intense bursts of distilled punk fury, very rarely going below speeds safe to drive on the highway. The setlist seems to have changed, as they are including more new material that, while less speedy than the material of old, still has its fangs, yellowed with age but reddened with new blood as they press on. There was a special guest appearance, but I’m not sure if I’m allowed to even mention it, though I will mention that they played a cover of Siege’s ‘Drop Dead’, and as an extra spiffy bonus, a cover of ‘It’s Not What It Seems To Be’ by fastcore/powerviolence legends Lärm. Sweeeet.

With Nocturno Culto finally bringing his drunk ass to America only to not play in Darkthrone was a disappointment to many, but I suppose Sarke is the next best thing. Who knows, maybe Fenriz’ Red Planet will stop by to play material from Engangsgrill in a few years.

At least the crowd hungry to hear one song, any song by Darkthrone got their wish, sorta, since Sarke played a ‘cover’ of ‘Too Old, Too Cold’. Clearly the case since Nocturno is never seen without a leather jacket. A weird mix of black-ish metal, normal-ish heavy metal, death rock, and whatever else Nocturno deems the right thing to do these days, it was interesting, but c’mon. Darkthrone. Not gonna stop saying it ‘til it happens.

True Norwegian Viking Death Metal warriors in Unleashed were something. Among my main draws to the fest this year, it’d be wrong to say I was disappointed, but underwhelmed is the word I’ll go with since their set was noticeably lacking in the glorious potential they are capable of.

Having a staggering 11 full-lengths of Nordic praise, and my having only heard 5 or 6 of them in full (not counting the …Revenge demo), I knew there were gonna naturally be some songs I wouldn’t know well enough to fistpump to. However, the lack of ‘In Victory Or Defeat’, ‘Warriors Of Midgard’, and prime material from As Yggdrasil Trembles was distressing. To add to the discomfort, they stretched out some songs by at least two or three minutes (‘Death Metal Victory’ count: 8+), thus cheating themselves and the audience out of more songs. It sucks that happened, but at least Johnny Hedlund brought out a Viking drinking horn, and the predictable happened. My diagnosis: they were drunk. To Asgaard, their brains flew.

Next up were Dark Angel, who’ve probably got more riffs in a single song than an entire Bolt Thrower album (or two), arrived to show us that indeed, time does not heal, because Thrash is a lifelong disease.

Now recovered from a spine injury that left him unable to move, much less sing, Ron Rineheart is now back in action, and the L.A. Caffeine Machine is back to brewing. With speeds equal to or greater than that of even the fastest cuts on Sepultura’s Arise, it’s a wonder how Dark Angel never got up to the Big 4 instead of Megadeth, who stopped being thrash after Killing Is My Business. Oops. They’re as virile and potent as 14-year old sperm after all these years.

Following U.S. fast with U.K. fury were Extinction Of Mankind, who, while not a founding band in crust (having formed in ’92), are as important as acts like Deviated Instinct and Hellbastard when assigning blame to old British guys spreading this filth. Their particular style is that popularised by acts like Misery; slow-churned Thrash infused riffs, barked vocals, and a steady beat to break down the walls of establishment. Naturally, the scent of unwashed dreads is the only perfume to adequately accompany such sounds, what with their LP Baptised In Shit, and all. I saw them again in someone’s basement a few days later, maybe I’ll review that too. Maybe.

I took a little nap during L.A.’s Excrutiating Terror, who weren’t all that painful, nor scary, to be honest. It was decent grindcore, though not too much of a racket, so I caught a few Zs before heading over to catch the real death metal bastards in Asphyx, because what the fuck is a Schirenc? I’d have liked to have caught ‘Shrunken And Mummified Bitch’ live, but The Church Of Pungent Stench would be a much more sensible name, aye? Or even Pungent Stench A.D., in keeping with what seems to be an MDF tradition? Whatever.

So, The Netherlands’ Asphyx, fronted by one of the few aside from John Tardy who can audibly sneer while growling, Martin van Drunen belted out classics like ‘M.S. Bismarck’ and newer ballistics in ‘Deathhammer’ with equal ease and aggression, and the band are no slobs either.

Come to think of it, Hail of Bullets should play next year. Just a thought.

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Maryland Deathfest on Facebook

WORDS BY SEAN PIERRE-ANTOINE

CONCERT PHOTOS BY HILLARIE JASON

Maryland Deathfest: Day 2 -Live at Ram’s Head Live & Edison Sound Stage, Baltimore, MD

Posted on June 11, 2014 by News Team

Friday

Good Friday indeed! Oh the wonderful tales I could tell you about successfully defeating homophobia by simply walking away from loudmouthed dumbasses, or I could just review bands, which is a better idea, actually.

So, this is the second time I’ve seen New York’s Castevet here at Deathfest, and like their hometown, I’m not sure why it’s considered such a hot item, even though it has elements that I like. I enjoy their post-hardcore tendencies more than their Black Metal ones. Weird, ain’t it? I would have stuck around to hear more of Mgla (who are doing far more interesting Black Metal, straight as a shot of Beefeater), but I wanted to A) familiarise myself with the walk to and from the Baltimore Soundstage, because I would end up going back and forth. A lot. Like, more than a kid at a Gorilla Biscuits show, or someshit. Why do they do this to us instead of using the perfectly good former Sonar Compound for a shitshow, the only attraction being that beers were $3 rather than $6? Fuck logic.

Anyway, yes, Creative Waste from Saudi Arabia, pretty decent. They’ve got the novelty factor of being one of the only known Grind bands from that country for obvious reasons, though they could stand to be more creative in the years to come. They’ve got potential, however, and it’s sweet they could make it out to the US and do stuff.

After a bit of getting wasted, I walked back to check out Ruins Of Beverast, and I honestly found their brand of Teutonic Black Metal a tad dull. I swear one of their songs was repeating the same section over and over and over and over until I finally realised it, and then, as if to fuck with me, suddenly it changed. Is this what it’s like having a bad trip just to snap back into reality and find your loved ones dead? No? Completely off-base? I mean, I like atmosphere and all, but I didn’t come to Baltimore to be lulled to eternal slumber. That’s what got me in trouble the last two years.

Following that was Necros Christos, and I must say, golf claps to having the most evil sounding bands play in the bright Baltimore sun. The irony was lost on nobody, I hope. They were decent enough, I remember, but nothing truly stuck out. Yep, the drought of interest was alive, but luckily Lake ACxDC was nearby to quench my thirst for some hard-hitting PV. Since it was still early in the day and not everyone had warmed up, you can guess that the pit was live, but not entirely lit up. Their caustic mix of standard Powerviolence and wacky fun-loving Grindcore makes for some good Christkillin’ tunes, indeed.

A second helping of Coffins was on the menu, and boy was I hungry for more topsoil. Coffins could have played all four days and I’d have no problem with that at all. This time around they played more of their “fast” songs, meaning those with more mid-paced tempos, and even ‘No Saviour’, featuring a blastbeat, which, in my Coffins listening experience, is quite a rare treat. This, however, only proves that the band is not a one-trick pony, and is capable of devastation at several different speeds. Efficiency is terrifying; just ask the Nazis. Not a band to repeat themselves too much, the only returning tracks were ‘Evil Infection’ and ‘Altars In Gore’, the latter of which made the dance floor shine. With sweat. And beer.

Turning 30 just last year, Norway’s Taake has never been in the U.S., because playing shows in America is not Black Metal, or something. Hoest even decided to wear a robe rather than go balls-out, which would make more sense, given that the weather’s pretty nice around those parts at this time.

Controversy about telling someone to “go suck a Muslim” —something Creative Waste would probably not appreciate— and all other bullshit that has lead to people falsely pinning the NS tag on them, Taake is probably one of those bands that you hear about more than actually hear. Having exposed myself to some of their music, I can say with certainty that it is good Norwegian Black Metal, and controversy be damned; those riffs are ice fuckin’ cold, son. I’m not terribly familiar with much of their music aside from the hilariously awesome banjo solo on ‘Myr’ from Noregs Vaapen, but I hope this means that they can come back sometime without me having to pay hundreds of dollars. Also, I saw this dead bird on the way in to see them. Someone removed the bird later, but didn’t touch the dog shit, because I dunno, that’d be weird?

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Having to dash from the fog to catch the almighty Capitalist Casualties was a painful, but necessary decision for me to make. If I even missed a minute of their set, I probably would have missed two or three songs, and that is, I assure you, not entirely an exaggeration.

Blistering, impossible hailstorms of insane start-stop tempos, rapid-fire vocals and scathing guitars that straddle the line between an all-out Thrash attack and condensed hardcore ferocity, and I suppose you’ve noticed that I’m fanboying so hard I can’t even stop using ad-words. I’ll be up front and say Capitalist Casualties was one of the main draws for me this year, alongside Coffins. With a 40 minute time slot, I estimated that they’d play at least 10 songs that I knew. I overshot it by three or four songs, but still, good enough. The fact that they played ‘Selfish Parochialism’ nullified the fact that they didn’t play ‘Violence Junkie’, or more from their split with Man Is The Bastard, but I seriously can’t even bitch, because since I don’t live in California it’ll probably be another few years til I get to see them again.

But the madness was far from over, as Italy’s grind virtuosos Cripple Bastards were up next to ruin any semblance of a face remaining from the previous assault.

Ranging in styles from faithful three-chords-and-the-truth punk rock to blasting grind, to fret-melting death metal, Cripple Bastards are certainly not short-sighted in their brutality. I’d know what they talked about if I spoke Italian, but I get the feeling that it falls in line with socio-political vitriol, as grind is wont to do. From Assück to Discordance Axis to early Extreme Noise Terror, grind has many flavours, and Cripple Bastards brings a whole plate of goodness to the genre. Just thinking of Italy makes me hungry because I’m fat.

After my lower back was adequately punished by Punx Aerobics 101, I took yet another long walk (and it got longer every time) back to Edison to catch At The Gates, no big deal.

Alright, so I lied, pretty big deal. At The Gates is only one of the most legendary Melodic Death Metal bands that actually still plays Melodic Death Metal. Who does that shit anymore? Not In Flames, I can tell you that much, even though I love them to death. But yeah, to see the fucking pit surge during ‘Terminal Spirit Disease’ is like a breath of fresh air for MeloDeath. Some dude even got into the circlepit with a camera in hand, and somehow it didn’t get broken. What a man. He’ll put a baby in me one day.

The most pleasant surprise of the set: they actually played ‘The Beautiful Wound’. Holy shit; I thought I was the only person that cared about that song for some odd reason. Killer doesn’t begin to describe it. With fear, I kiss the burning awesome.

Following that with the atmospheric as hell black/death/doom two-piece meal Bölzer made for an odd contrast, but it was pretty chill, despite being given the distinct feeling that I had been launched into empty space. Not much I can say about these guys, unfortunately, but they’re good, so check ‘em, if you want. California’s most likely to be sued for medical malpractice, Impaled, however, was what my ears had their hearts set on at that hour. I intended to catch some of Enthroned, but they took too damn long to set up, and ironically enough, Impaled also were taking ages to set up, and thus started ten or fifteen minutes late. But fuck it, it’s Impaled playing ‘The Dead Shall Dead Remain’, in full, with dudes dressed as doctors, Hæmorrhage style, crowdsurfing/moshing in ‘blood’-spattered lab coats and surgeon masks.

To add fuel to the spiritual bonfire of Bacchanal celebration, the infamous MDF Party Brigade struck suddenly with a bunch of glowsticks, inflatables, and other goodies. One second, it’s just Impaled playing, the next, it looks like someone turned on a garden hose that shoots little plastic things you should never, ever, ever, eat. Ross Sewage says: “Always tip your bartender, especially if they give you the ‘Spirits of the Dead!”

Then I went and caught some Incantation, and I must say they’re not quite as slow as I expected, since I believe some of their members had been in Disma, and lemme tell ya, that band’s pretty slow. I kinda liked it, but would have preferred if vocalist John McEntee (also known for his work in Mortician and live stints in Immolation) didn’t insist on trying to sound “evil” even though song titles like ‘Emaciated Holy Figure’ do that well enough. Sounded like a damn cartoon goblin. How brutal. No harm intended, it was just ridiculous being referred to as “sick fucks” two or three times in a 10 minute span. Good night.

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Maryland Deathfest on Facebook

WORDS BY SEAN PIERRE-ANTOINE

CONCERT PHOTOS BY HILLARIE JASON

Maryland Deathfest: Live at Ram’s Head Live & Edison Sound Stage, Baltimore, MD

Posted on June 10, 2014 by News Team

Third Time’s The Charm: Maryland Deathfest XII

It finally happened. I had a good, no, GREAT time at Maryland Deathfest. Would’ve been better if I could have seen Garm’s unibrow rustling in concentration, but still, fun. Absolutely free of poorly thought out drinking binges, interpersonal drama, God, and other messy things that prevent you from living like a human, I’m glad to report a success story where I not only saw most of the bands I cared to see, but also was fuckin’ FIERCE in , goddamn. Lookin’ and feelin’ good are only two parts to the complex and variable happening that is America’s biggest metal/hardcore party of the year, but it’s easy to forget that when you’re crying and/or puking, and I’m glad to say I only did the latter once, and it was a party puke making room for more party as opposed to an “I hate myself and will try not to do this again” puke. Awesome. Now let’s talk about some shit.

Thursday

There’s not much to say bandwise about Thursday, because fuck New York traffic. Slapshot got it right, they shouldn’t apologise for that shit. Just take a look at this monstrous eyesore I got treated to at the Port Authority station.

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A motherfucking Cake Boss Café. Reaffirms misanthropy like little else. The icing on this cake of fuck is the presence of televisions airing the damn show to the lobotomised patrons. And don’t get me wrong: my brief sojourn to Times Square allowed me to bear witness to a lot of other unspeakable horrors including a strip club/body sushi bar/steak joint (unholy!) but it pains me to even think of the massive overcrowding and overstylised tomfoolery that is that den of iniquity. It takes 30 minutes to get out of that gods accursed necropolis, even with clear traffic, so avoid at all costs all the time.

Now that I’m done bitching about long bus rides (and it was long), I’d like to take a moment to give a HUGE shoutout to a certain Peter Willis for setting me up with a couch to crash on the entire MDF weekend, via couchsurfing.org. Highly recommended if you can’t afford a hotel or just don’t want to deal with one anyway. This guy saved my life, and unfortunately I didn’t think to get a picture with him, but here’s his dresser clandestinely snapped pre-cleanup because he’s a party animal.

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To Baltimore natives, Modelo and Natty Boh are water, and Strong Bow Cider is their apple juice.

So without further ado (and I’m not even sure about the ado), I made my sweet little way to the Ram’s Head, and I must say it’s a tad fancier than I would have thought, being called Ram’s Head. I had in mind a bar shitty enough to be Deathfest material, but that was only the bowels. The outside has a fancy ass fountain with lights that make it look like Vegas or someshit. Too cool, dude. And it’s near the most brutal Holocaust memorial you’ll ever see.

Isn’t that fucking metal? And not just because it’s cast in iron or whatever, but because it’s a bunch of bodies burning, twisting, writhing, and melting in spiritless agony. Forever. Fuckin’ rad. Boston’s glass tubes full of steam can’t compare.

Appropriately in the mood for Coffins after some rituals near this most blesséd monument to misery, I stepped face-first into the sludge.

The embodiment of dark, slow and heavy, and a direct genetic predecessor to Winter’s death/doom monstrosity, Japan’s Coffins is a contender for one of the most disgustingly oppressive metal bands out there. And they’re actually good at what they do, too. The distortion serves not as a cover-up for being shitty musicians (they aren’t), but creates that foreboding grave-like atmosphere we sick fucks need to feel alive. Now one member heavier after moving Ryo from drums to frontman and getting a new stickman during the making of their punishing new album The Fleshland (Relapse), they brought out plenty of hits from the hellish Buried Death, my personal favourite (though suspiciously missing ‘Cadaver Blood’, why?). You’d be amazed at how fast a crowd can get moving even though the music runs like a tank draped in human bodies. Easily one of the more brutal pits of the weekend. Nearly lost my shit —as in my possessions, as you know I went ham— but it was totally worth it. “See you tomorrow”, Bungo or Ryo quipped as they signed off, with a smile.

Following with another hard C to the jaw, Nawlins’ own Crowbar came up to the plate and delivered sorrowful Southern sermons to our congregation of freaks.

There they were chugging along dutifully onstage, I’m looking at guitarist Matthew Brunson as the blues flowed freely, and suddenly there’s a scrawny-looking guy feeling the fury of Kirk Windstein’s foot to his face. Now everyone’s mind is in “what the fuck?” mode for a moment, and conflicting accounts of the “what” rose faster than weeds outside a shitty project building. Apparently a fan got onstage, got tackled by security into Kirk, which then prompted Kirk’s “what the fuck” mode, and subsequently a violent reaction that was probably not needed, in light of the whole Randy Blythe kerfuffle. Despite this hiccup, however, they finished their set like gentlemen, and all was well. No clue what happened with the guy that undoubtedly still has a shoeprint in his forehead, but I hope that wasn’t the highlight of his weekend.

I mean, aside from that, the set went well. I made a man of myself by throwing the shit down during ‘Cemetery Angels’ in a goddamn blue miniskirt. Get on that level, chumps.

Switzerland’s Triptykon was supposed to headline, but due to the sudden and tragic death of band friend and artist, H.R. Giger, and the subsequent scheduling of his funeral, they couldn’t make it, though the MDF XII shirts tell a different story.

Maryland Deathfest on Facebook

WORDS BY SEAN PIERRE-ANTOINE

CONCERT PHOTOS BY HILLARIE JASON

The Dillinger Escape Plan – Trash Talk – Retox – Shining (NO): at Brighton Music Hall, Allston MA

Posted on April 24, 2014 by News Team

There aren’t many tours that are revealed that I get giddy with excitement for immediately after they are announced. After hearing The Dillinger Escape Plan were playing Boston, however, it became one of my most highly anticipated shows of the year, and it did not disappoint in the slightest. They are one of those bands who, from the times I have seen them, put on some of the most intense shows I have ever seen.

So, when I reached the sold out Brighton Music Hall and saw the crowd building up when doors opened, I knew Boston was going to be in for a hell of a show. The night started off with the band Shining. No, not the black metal band from Sweden, but the experimental metal act from Norway. Fronted by guitarist, vocalist, and saxophonist Jørgen Munkeby, Shining blends the intricacy of progressive metal with the sound of jazz and black metal in order to craft very interesting pieces of music, which can be heard on their releases Blackjazz and One One One (Indie Recordings). Opening with the track ‘I Won’t Forget’, it was obvious that some of the crowd did not know what to expect after they began to play. The band played with a lot of energy and had a very strong stage presence throughout their set. By the end, most of the crowd was into their performance, even some of the people who were talking about why they were on the bill. They ended their set with a cover of ’21st Century Schizoid Man’ by King Crimson, and having the whole crowd sing along was a perfect way to close their set.

Following Shining were glitchy hardcore noisemakers Retox, whose mathy approach must have been a tad too offbeat for a crowd awaiting Trash Talk. With a more straightforward and urban approach to hardcore, it lends itself more to the mosh, essentially. Busting out oldies like a souped-up version of ‘F.Y.R.A.’ and the title track from their fastcore favourite, ‘Walking Disease’ and evenly dotting in some of their darker, heavier material from Eyes & Nines and 119 paved the way for stage-dive and crowd surf central. With vocalist Lee Spielman keeping the crowd hype in order to give them their money’s worth in next day bruises, there was no shortage of circle pits, rafter hanging (guitarist Spencer included), and of course, good old fashioned mosh ignorance. Those near the stage during the seasonably doom-laden ‘Hash Wednesday” would also be able to smell a certain sweet leaf making the rounds. Surprisingly, no hospitalizations, but definitely a lot of damaged shoes.

To pile mayhem on mayhem came The Dillinger Escape Plan, who, unlike Retox, have the history and long-standing reputation for hosting shows where the trend generally is rafter hanging, pit violence, more rafter hanging, impassioned singalongs, and maybe more rafter hanging, but this time instigated by guitarist extraordinaire Ben Weinman. Of course, you can guess that this set followed the formula of a normal Dillinger set, but is that ever a bad thing?

Aside from vocalist Greg Puciato telling all couples to make sweet love for the sake of procreation during the swank, ear-friendly intro to the title track of their Sumerian Records debut, One Of Us Is The Killer, you can guess what happened, short of the venue walls collapsing under the weight of ‘43% Burnt’, or the glorious pile-on/stage invasion during ‘Sunshine The Werewolf’, a fitting closer. Whoever programs their light show should get an academy award for the headache inducing task of syncing up anti-epilepsy death rays with the mind-bending time signatures that they bust out as easily as a grade schooler can beat-box. When even ‘Panasonic Youth’ is a comparatively ‘easy’ song to tap your foot to, you know you’re in for the musical equivalent of a plane crash. In the best way, of course. Be sure to pick up the wreckage that was your brain on the way out of the venue.

Despite all odds, the Brighton Music Hall still stands, and so we may tell the tale of the night it survived Trash Talk And The Dillinger Escape Plan back to back. Honestly, I’m still puzzled, but some things are best not to think too hard about and just accept. Life is kind of like stage-diving, if you think about it that way.

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Shining (NO) on Facebook

Retox on Facebook

Trash Talk on Facebook

The Dillinger Escape Plan on Facebook

Review by Jason Mejia and Sean Pierre-Antoine

Photos by Meg Loyal Photography

Inquisition- Obscure Verses for the Multiverse

Posted on March 24, 2014 by News Team

Not long ago, I once had nothing positive to say of Colombia’s Inquisition, who are now based in sleepless Seattle. Upon first hearing ‘Those of the Night’, I was admittedly turned off by the aesthetic of it all; croaking that reminded me of Popeye with throat cancer, the overly fuzzy and plodding guitars, and drumming I can barely remember, it must have been so unremarkable. They got better. Hop on over to the next paragraph and maybe you’ll find an explanation as to why Obscure Verses for the Multiverse (Season of Mist) hasn’t ended up in the archive hell of the Department of Redundancy Department.

This outfit has predictably got limitations to overcome musically when tasked with writing inspired black metal that is listenable, unique, and not far too clean, being a two-man band in a modern land of imitation. The trick here is not Satan, but rather inventiveness. While they’re in a similar place musically to (insert album with blue cover), this is by no means something to hold against it. Front man Dagon’s vocals are still that eldritch semi-amphibious rasp with some cavernous bellows sprinkled throughout, though with reverb to give the atmosphere of colloquy with Azathoth himself, it sounds palatable to the ear rather than chisels at your patience. Guitar lines: slowly unfolding, melodic fractal riffs not unlike specimens of modern black metal, but may, when needed, join with cannonading drums to besiege fabulous hyaline castles in the cosmos of fabled multiverse. Inquisition make no pretense of being avant-garde wizards; they find a good sound and go with it. End of story. Or album?

The sound in this case is best exemplified by the intense yet subtle balance of melody and bestiality, but not in the shagging sheep way. The opening minute of ‘Joined By Dark Matter Repelled By Dark Energy’, for instance: starting as a gently rushing river of galloping drums accompanied by guitar waxing poetically sensible before the swirling waterfall of blastbeats kick in and reminds you that this isn’t your dad’s normal ear-pleasing rock’n’roll, though he could appreciate some of the harmonies. The only true downside I can find is that the tracks do follow a (well-written) formula, with ‘When Darkness Is Lord And Death’ sounding scarily like the track I just yammered about. The fact that “dark” or some variant of it is in three different songs should tell you all you need to know. Don’t get me started on this piece’s title itself, eh?

In closing, I liked this album, and you might too. For every three oddly cheery sounding bands under the tag “melodic black metal”, there’s a group like Vinterland, Sacramentum, or Inquisition that doesn’t like sunshine. Good night.

8/10

Inquisition on Facebook

Sean Pierre-Antoine

Imperial Triumphant – Goliath (EP)

Posted on March 13, 2014 by News Team

Making New York an evil[ler] and dark[er] place since 2005, Imperial Triumphant play a style of dark, swirling black metal that calls to mind the similarly twisted Dodecahedron, which already is a good sign, because Dodecahedron is pretty damn rad. I’m not too familiar with other bands in this style aside from perhaps Deathspell Omega, who I would describe as sounding ‘angular’ due to their heavy reliance on discord, dissonance, and generally non-standard musical phrasing that can grate uncomfortably against the ear, though it can vary strongly depending on how it is performed.

I would place Imperial Triumphant in the same category as Dodecahedron, in that they capture the correct atmosphere and heavy-dizzying dynamic well in the two songs given, properly entitled ‘Sodom’ and “Gomorrah”, because I suppose the Biblical wellspring of influence will never run dry as long as monotheistic values are dominant in society. While both pieces are interesting in their own right, I would say that “Gomorrah” is the one that really warrants attention, as it plays with mind-bending psychedelia, blasting blasphemy, ambient horrorscapes, and not to mention, a killer headbang rhythm at the beginning, with a hurts-just-right sort of atonality on the guitars that allow the blackness to shine through paradoxically.

In essence, Imperial Triumphant is not putting forth an entirely unique sound, but the way it is played with will certainly earn them some kind of following, particularly among those who find the nihilistic, cavernous bellows of bands like Antediluvian to be the ideal soundtrack for those lonesome Friday nights with Pazuzu. With just enough filth to create the closed-in atmosphere of being smothered by the elephant on the art, yet clean enough to render the various effects and the nuances of the drumming down to its well-controlled double bass, you end up with a black hole of jagged chords, chunky precision drums, and vocals that seem to come from the belly of a fearsome chimærical beast, all totalling up to one tasty extreme metal outing that’s sure to scare your mother.

8.5/10

Imperial Triumphant on Facebook

Imperial Triumphant on Bandcamp

Sean Pierre-Antoine

Omotai – Fresh Hell

Posted on February 27, 2014 by News Team

Houston’s Omotai is a sludge metal mammoth, which on paper sounds fan-freakin’-tastic. That is, if you enjoy your sludge metal at mammoth pace for an entire album. With overtones of a simplified Harvey Milk, a rudimentary Doomriders, and even waxing Mercyful Fate at times —check ‘Throats Of Snakes’ for the best example of some King Diamond-esque piping—, you’d think it’d be an engaging listen at least. Despite these influences from promising sources. It is with heavy heart, however, that I must say that Fresh Hell turns out to be anything but.

Blame it on The Sword, Red Fang, Baroness and similar bands, but I’m just not into that whole sludge-meets-hard rock style that seems to be invading your local bar venue on a bi-weekly basis. It certainly has the heaviness to warrant the genre tag and potentially the ability to open for EyeHateGod as local support, but the appeal ends with repetition. Fresh Hell begins rotting as early as halfway through the first track ‘Get Your Dead Straight’, with its riffs scarcely stirring more than an inch further than what would make it truly interesting. The hardcore influence of the tracks ‘Laser Addict’ and ‘Back Office’ make my ears perk up, if only because they’re not inane lumbering workouts that test patience rather than inspire listening.

I feel as though the phrase ‘heard it all before’ applies woefully well to all seven songs here; from the Cave In piracy to the country fried grooves of Mastodon, it’s all sounding like the product of their influences rather than the promised Fresh Hell. There is some promise, yes, but overall it’s too easy to ignore amid a sea of similar sounding bands who have done the same better.

6.0/10

Omotai on Facebook
Sean Pierre-Antoine

Protest The Hero – The Contortionist – Affiance – The Kindred: Live At The Palladium

Posted on January 10, 2014 by News Team

I had my apprehensions about seeing Protest The Hero. It’s true. Laugh all you like, but try being absolutely surrounded by prog nerds, and the only longhairs among them are the obviously going to Berklee. The rest also go to Berklee, but don’t look like it. Fine institution, I’ll rib them as I please. Trekking to the Palladium and back in the midst of a snowstorm was no picnic, so if you’re reading this and live in a place without snow and a much more efficient transit system, feel free to lord it over me.

Arriving just in time to catch The Kindred’s set, I couldn’t help but smell something amiss. Was it their front man attempting to be Tommy Rogers of Between The Buried And Me fame, or someone near me not rigorously applying deodorant out of consideration for their fellow showgoer? If you guessed the former, you’re correct, though it would be nothing short of erroneous to not mention that there were some ripe fellows in this lot come to spectate. Talented group of lads, yes, but originality was severely lacking. The inclusion of a song with a sort of call and response and the front man’s getting off the stage to “mosh” with the crowd was charming enough, but I wasn’t exactly won over, having heard many a prog band of their type in all my Palladium-going years.

And to stack on yet another dry slice of derivative sourdough was Affiance. In light of their having convinced themselves that they’re something worth noting in the post-2007 era of progressive metalcore, their singer did boast some pretty sweet range, so that much at least was nice to hear. Otherwise, it was a series of by-the-numbers riffs and breakdowns that make the sober man wish that he could conjure a 40 oz of something vile and intoxicating to dull the edge of having heard it all before. I may sound harsh, but you had to be there to see/hear it for yourself.

We were promised Architects, and they failed to come build as per the contract. We were promised The Contortionist as well, and they couldn’t make it due to being given a fierce snowjob by Mother Nature in return for being talented in the cold season. Hell, even the night’s honorees in Protest The Hero showed up just in time to load in their gear after Affiance finished, so that’s how close we were to being strung out and in need of more noodles.

Now is as good a time as ever to admit that I’ve not been keeping up with Protest The Hero since the phenomenal Fortress, chock full of melody, technicality, and even a breakdown here and there to get the blood moving. I was mentally unready for them to mentally fellate me with the j-rock leaning soar of ‘Mist’ and the techy yet tasty Star Trek themed ‘Clarity’ from their killer new album Volition (Razor And Tie). I fell asleep on this band for a while, but Rody’s live back cracking by a professional chiropractor in the crowd sure as hell woke me up. Oldies, but goodies ‘Sequoia Throne’ and ‘Bloodmeat’ from the aforementioned Fortress made appearances, but sadly no ‘Blindfolds Aside’, which was the song that turned people (myself included) on to them many aeons ago in the first place. All present even got treated to Rody attempting (and failing) freestyle rapping. Let’s hope these influences make themselves plain on Prote$t Tha Hero, Yo’s next studio effort.

Braving the snow and cold was worth it to rekindle my long lost and embrace love of some of prog metal’s , but can someone please tell the heavens to turn up the global thermostat? You’re not kvlt.

Protest The Hero on Facebook

The Contortionist on Facebook

Affiance on Facebook

The Kindred on Facebook

The Worcester Palladium on Facebook

Words: Sean Pierre-Antoine

Between The Buried And Me- The Faceless – The Contortionist – The Safety Fire: Live At The Worcester Palladium

Posted on December 12, 2013 by News Team

How does one classify Four Loko? It’s certainly not beer; it tastes far too good for that. It’s not vodka; it’s got the telltale fizz and lack of gasoline aftertaste. It’s certainly not whiskey because it doesn’t taste like hellfire. I’ll just say that it’s the blood of Dionysus and leave it at that. Boy, is it good. Especially if you haven’t eaten, then it just goes straight to your damn face. So in the entirely wrong mindset I went to see Between The Buried And Me. In a familiar moment of brilliance I realized that every band on this tour has the word ‘the’ in their name. Wow. The definite article is king. Some grammarian make a punny joke about that. I digress. This show was also the kickoff night for the 10th Annual Rock and Shock Festival The Palladium puts on.

There was no question about my attendance with this one right here. I had the funds, I had the time, and I still have a huge space in my heart for these North Carolinian wizards whose music is like off-Broadway musicals meets Opeth meets Pink Floyd meets Cave In meets João Gilberto meets Dream Theater if they were good meets Botch meets Freddy Mercury. It’s a clusterbomb of influences that all somehow manages to make writing twenty minute songs excusable in my mind.

But for the openers, because a good review is chronological, should the universe allow me to experience it in such a fashion, and it normally does. The Safety Fire from London (like you didn’t assume they were already, because I sure did and I was right) were an okay primer for what was to come. They play a relatively inoffensive kind of prog metal meets metalcore and some poppy-esque sensibilities. This we call ‘djent’, usually, but some people would rather me not. If I see a duck, I’ll have to call it a hang-glider, which I suppose is technically correct if you feel like a duck while hang-gliding. Don’t be obnoxious to wildlife.

After that little musical handy wrapped up, The Contortionist, now officially rollin’ [blunts] with Mike Lessard of fellow progressive and high-minded –in both ways– Last Chance To Reason, stuck entirely to their mind-blowing new album, Intrinsic (eOne), which just about raised the bar on everything they’ve done on Exoplanet, which was marvelous in its own right. It’s like if elevator music were heavy, but in the best way one could possibly mean it. Simultaneously light, airy, and melodic, yet crushing at a moment’s whim, without the gaps and awkwardness that could come from a lesser band trying to transition from asteroids colliding to doing heroin on an armchair. Hearing ‘Cortical’ live was just too good of a treat, and I hope that while they bring back the oldies on future tours, they keep dazzling my ears with their introspective steaze.

The Faceless have dropped into odd territories with their latest album, Deconsecrate (Summerian), and have essentially become the fat fedora atheists (FFA’s) that one oft encounters vomiting pseudo-intellectual babble onto a forum somewhere, and making themselves hard to agree with even if you share their general viewpoint. I’m all for hailing science, but I wouldn’t write a song or make a shirt about it. But despite this, I’ll always still hold a soft spot for The Faceless on the basis that their first two releases were just sooooo good. And ‘The Eidolon Reality’ was a pretty killer track before it was fucked with until the chorus was so unrecognizably cut up by the dull blades of an overzealous audio technician that it is now the audio equivalent of Joan Rivers’ face. And in that statement I believe I am somehow implying that there was ever any good to be found in JR’s mug to begin with. Other than that, I just found myself patiently appreciating the actually heavy parts of the new songs and reveling in nostalgia during ‘Coldly Calculated Design’ and ‘Xenochrist’, but still sad to see a band I once obsessed over become just an auxiliary band that will play second hurdy-gurdy to something I’m actually stoked on.

And how could one not be stoked on Between The Buried And Me, who are probably one of the three metal bands out of North Carolina that aren’t sludge or doom? Busting out the entirety of Parallax 2: Future Sequence (Metal Blade)? Why yes, I’ll come down and peep that right quick. There’s no such thing as a ceiling when it comes to BtBaM’s sound. It will always continue getting weirder, and the concepts progressively more spacey. They are spacemen. At least I say they are. It’s a marvel that they do this without prolonged exposure to LSD and/or shrooms or just really potent weed. Regardless of nonexistent narcotics, they’ve still got grandiose compositions swirling around in their collective head, with enough artistry as warrants growing a scraggly beard and maintaining a mellow aura despite the music being a mad mix of progressive death metal, hardcore, and cosmic soft rock textures that would send any lesser man cackling into a garret. Scoff with thinly veiled derision if thou may, but taking this whole (awesome) new album to the face in a live setting has just reminded me how much I love these guys. From the metalized surf of ‘Bloom’, to the power-bombing breakdowns of ‘Telos’, the epic headbang territory of closer ‘Silent Flight Parliament’, etc. etc. I’m going to not nerd out, here. It was a good show (great show, even), and we’ll leave it at that.

Between The Buried And Me on Facebook

The Faceless on Facebook

The Contortionist on Facebook

The Safety Fire- on Facebook

Sean Pierre-Antoine

Poison Idea – Kings of Punk

Posted on December 4, 2013 by News Team

Southern Lord seems to be making its move towards becoming a hardcore label official. All jokes aside, the recent releases of material by Xibalba, Nails, Trap Them, and even d-beat lycanthropes Wolfbrigade is telling of the direction that the label wants to go in. But Poison Idea? Now there’s a throwback.

Reaching back in time to re-re-release the seminal classic, Poison Idea’s third release, not-so-subtly entitled Kings of Punk, so that we may educate ourselves on what actually defines the phrase Hardcore Punk in a world where tough guy crews like Crowd Deterrent wear proverbial Burger King crowns and refer to themselves as such with no irony. It’s raw, nasty, dirty, uncompromising, and pretty damn good. I’ve been late to the party as far as this band is concerned, and I even missed their recent show in Quincy, but better late than never, because if you never, then how can you at all?

Jerry A.’s drug and alcohol infused spit will get in your ears as he yells about cops, being angry, and leading different ‘Lifestyles’ (see what I did? I hope not). “Pig Champion” plays licks that are simple enough to be punker than you, but also tastefully executed and catchy so songs like ‘God Not God’ manage to stick around in your head while you imagine yourself drunkenly making room for yourself to slamdance. The rhythm section rumbles dutifully behind, but still has enough energy to feed positively off the guitar and vocals to create an atmosphere that lives up to the album’s semi-facetious name. I’m coming across as too academic here, but only because otherwise this review would be detailing what kind of foolish act I would partake in while listening to any given song.

While the original material on its own stands the test of time, there are also live versions of every track and beyond, intermingled with some chuckle-worthy banter by Jerry A., this being the product of altogether too much liquor and too few brains left intact from just being too “punk” to articulate linear thought. It’s an exercise in how many different ways one can huff glue and still be functional enough to say something negative. Also a completely original forgery of Motörhead‘s self-named jam which I can’t seem to remember the name of, and a hateful sampled piss-take where someone clearly is in need of Mr. Clean.

Taking the time to listen to Poison Idea has shown me just how important they were in the formation of hardcore punk as a genre, so I feel like even more of a nerd because I’m gonna namedrop them like everyone else when asked about the history of hardcore. It’s always good to learn things.

8.5/10

Poison Idea on Facebook

Sean Pierre-Antoine

Ghost Cult Magazine

Music News, Interviews and Reviews that matter.

Tag Archives: Sean Pierre Antoine

Maryland Deathfest: Day 3 -Live at Ram’s Head Live & Edison Sound Stage, Baltimore, MD

Maryland Deathfest: Day 2 -Live at Ram’s Head Live & Edison Sound Stage, Baltimore, MD

Maryland Deathfest: Live at Ram’s Head Live & Edison Sound Stage, Baltimore, MD

The Dillinger Escape Plan – Trash Talk – Retox – Shining (NO): at Brighton Music Hall, Allston MA

Inquisition- Obscure Verses for the Multiverse

Imperial Triumphant – Goliath (EP)

Omotai – Fresh Hell

Protest The Hero – The Contortionist – Affiance – The Kindred: Live At The Palladium

Between The Buried And Me- The Faceless – The Contortionist – The Safety Fire: Live At The Worcester Palladium

Poison Idea – Kings of Punk