Behemoth & Myrkur Live at Boston, MA's Royale
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It’s 2016, and the narrative arc of Behemoth frontman Adam “Nergal” Darski’s successful battle with leukemia, and the band’s triumphant return with 2014’s The Satanist, is common knowledge. The band shouldn’t be beholden to it forever. Still, there was something stirring about David Bowie’s “Lazarus” playing over the PA at the conclusion of their April 24th date at Boston’s Royale. In the wake of Bowie, Lemmy and Prince, this year has the mortality of musicians, and the potential sting of another loss, on all of our minds. Behemoth now functions as a proud rebuke of death – a celebration of life with dramatic, Satanic flourish. And that’s something we need right now.
While last year’s co-headlining jaunt with Cannibal Corpse brought Poland’s preeminent blackened death metal marauders to some larger stages, this spring’s Blasfemia Amerika tour found Behemoth properly in the spotlight. The band tookg advantage of the longer sets to offer up The Satanist front to back in addition to some old favorites, plus some added touches of theatricality.
Led by Nergal’s indefatigable energy and egged on by a wild crowd, the band’s ferocious onslaught was all horns. A spastic light show battered the audience while drummer Zbigniew “Inferno” Promiński thrashed away at the top of his iron platform, obscured by a wall of percussion hardware. Bassist Tomasz “Orion” Wróblewski and guitarist Patryk “Seth” Sztyber prowled the stage, corpse-painted and scowling. The mononyms and makeup are just the start of the band’s flair for presentation, which embodied something of a black mass. A censer and distribution of communion wafers joined the traditional metal masks and (hopefully) fake blood spitting. It’s all more than a bit over the top, but what good is evil if you’re not having fun with it?
Behemoth has faced repercussions in both their native Poland and elsewhere in Europe over such artistic liberties in the past, but as Nergal took a moment to remind us prior to “Conquer All,” the band is not one for compromising. The quartet remains gleefully defiant, and defiantly alive.
A strong opening set from Myrkur, the ethereal one-woman black metal project of singer, guitarist and songwriter Amalie Bruun, rounded out the evening. Accompanied by a three-piece live band, Bruun executed a deft blend of gothic atmosphere and hammering bass/drum/guitar interplay. With a background in the pop-leaning fare of Brooklyn band Ex Cops, she had the vocal chops to sell the set’s stirring quiet moments (including a solo rendition of Bathory’s “Song to Hall Up High” on piano), but can also pierce with a scream when the material calls for it. Songs largely drawn from last year’s debut record M sounded haunted and thrilling from the stage. Myrkur’s first tour of North America, was a promising beginning.
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Myrkur
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Behemoth
Azar Swan: Breaking Open a Beautiful Machine
credit: Angelle-Leigh Breaux[/caption]
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Zohra Atash has been listening to plane crashes. When her longtime bandmate and collaborator Joshua Strawn tells me this, Atash immediately jumps in to provide context. "This isn't some carnage porn shit," she hastily explains. "I'm horrified by it all." Instead, she's listening for how the pilots deal with mechanical failure. "Boeing planes are a checklist factory. Pilots are trained to methodically go through everything, even in the face of death," she says. It's that moment Atash is fascinated by, the transition from rationality to the often irrational acceptance of death. Atash is looking to the wreckage of a beautiful machine not for pain, but for humanity. That same wreckage adorns the album cover of Atash and Strawn's newest album as Azar Swan. Savage Exile, the duo's third full-length, is a startling departure from their previous records. Since 2013's Dance Before the War, Azar Swan have specialized in gothic synth-pop that, while inspired by the sounds of industrial and world music, was always accessible, sensual, and most importantly fun. Atash would sing ornate melodies with the pinched nasal timbre of a 1980s pop star over arrangements both moody and muscular. Their 2015 release And Blow Us a Kiss is a gorgeously arranged terrarium of trunk bumping hip-hop beats (Strawn mentions Kanye West in our conversation without prompt) and icy synthesizers. If And Blow Us a Kiss is Azar Swan's Late Registration, then Savage Exile finds them skipping right to Yeezus, breaking down their sound to its ugliest and most essential parts. Songs build and painfully dart away from release, leaving tension hanging in the air. It's a deeply uncomfortable listen, a far cry away from the goth-night playlist material of, for example, "Over," the eighth track from Dance Before the War....
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z3tfOe_2CA8...
While this particular metamorphosis is new, it isn't the first time that Atash and Strawn have taken their music in a drastically new direction. The two first began working together as part of Religious to Damn, an equally all-black-attire affair that emerged in New York's Weird Records scene in the late 2000s. While their contemporaries were playing coldwave and fiddling with elaborate analog synthesizers, Religious to Damn played strictly with live instrumentation. "We had a 'no-synths allowed' rule," says Atash. This required them to maintain an increasingly elaborate lineup that quickly became unsustainable in the tight spaces they'd end up performing in. "I'd have a cello bow poking into my side while I was trying make sure no one bumped into the harmonium," she continues, visibly exasperated when recalling the experience. Instead of chasing down musicians that could match her vision, Atash shrunk the lineup down to herself and Strawn and shifted into the software driven sound of Azar Swan. In addition to being a pragmatic decision, this change also helped them stand out from their contemporaries. "Everyone else was making these long, formless pieces," Atash explains. "At the time, we were like 'fuck bedroom electronics,' we wanted to sound like Phil Collins."...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e9zSNndkj38...
Even while they were fine tuning their pop hooks, Azar Swan were separately working on much stranger and darker material. "We had been working on the music for Savage Exile since before And Blow Me a Kiss," says Atash. Despite being in the plans for years, much of Savage Exile was never intended for Azar Swan at all. While living in New Orleans, Strawn (who also fronts experimental metal act Vaura) began working on solo material inspired by the catalog of Galakthorrö, a German electronic label. The results were minimal, distorted, and abandoned Azar Swan's syncopation for a jackhammering, bass-driven sound. Meanwhile, Zohra had been making music on her own, starting demos on Garageband mobile. This method inspired her to treat her demos like visual collages, which in turn led to a more fragmented and uneasy sound. "She'd send these files over with 50 different stems, except almost none of them were playing at once," says Strawn with a mix of admiration and bemusement. "Everything was scattered all over the mix." It wasn't until Atash shared her demos with Strawn that he realized his own experiments were of a kind with her new direction. While the duo had previously worked primarily as an expression of Atash's creative direction, on Savage Exile they wrote as equals. Unlike the contrarian impulse that drove them to streamlined structure, the creation of Savage Exile relied on both Azar Swan's intuition and their meticulous editing. Atash would revise songs endlessly, slowly molding them into the exact form she wanted. "The early version of 'Territorial' was much more conventional, but we gradually made it more abstract," Atash explains. One song, "Lines In The Sand," apparently went through 70 different drafts before it ended up on the record. However, it took them much longer to find a through-line that would tie their newly unrestricted creativity together. "We aren't the kind of band to put a big idea on the bulletin board," says Strawn. "Our process is much more about whittling things down." This time, however, forces outside of Azar Swan helped with the whittling. Just as their music was getting progressively more anxious, the rest of the world was sliding into chaos. After narrowly escaping a fire in her apartment building, Atash began working on a song addressing the experience. "I was trying to capture the understanding that I was about to die," says Atash. "But while we writing it, a friend of ours passed away in the Ghost Ship fire," Strawn interjects. "So we had to scrap the song." More and more, it began to feel like the band's music was acting as a canary in the coal mine. While testing the material on a European tour in 2015, a Putin acolyte grabbed Atash by the face to lecture her about the shape of her skull. Even though the material on Savage Exile predated the current zeitgeist, Atash and Strawn were both writing with the awareness that something dark was coming over the horizon. It wasn't just the outside world going to shit either. Faced with roadblocks in the music industry and increasing stress in their personal lives, Azar Swan translated their anxieties into their music. "We were both going through dark times," says Atash. "I had to talk Joshua through his first panic attack." "All those cliches about artists going through a breakdown, or making a record as therapy, feel a lot more true now," Strawn adds, nodding in agreement....
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Savage Exile serves as Azar Swan's own black box. Recorded and written as they dealt with personal and political tragedy, it contains a raw expression of Azar Swan's reckoning with their anxieties, moment by moment, fear by fear. It's an expression of emotion first and foremost, a way to step outside of the real and speak truth without being limited by sense. In an article she wrote for Talkhouse, Atash recalls smoking cigarettes to make her voice more like Lydia Lunch's. Though Atash still smokes, she hardly needs nicotine to add an edge. On Savage Exile, she made an explicit effort to open up her singing to a host of unconventional choices, sometimes manipulating the pitch of her voice digitally, other times launching into unrecognizable characters, like one she refers to as a "guidance counselor from Oklahoma." The hard work paid off -- Lunch herself gave her seal of approval. "She [Lunch] said, 'I can tell that you're inspired by me, but you don't sound like me,'" Atash says. When it came time for Azar Swan to perform Savage Exile live, both Strawn and Atash split vocal duties. On one end of the stage, Strawn hunkered over a table full of knobs and punctuated the music with full throated barks. In the other corner, Atash gripped two microphones, and despite claiming to be "more Larry David than Tina Turner," gave a forceful performance as raw and arresting as any soul singer. As she sang, her voice clipped and fizzled with distortion. It was difficult to tell if her voice was going into the red intentionally, as there were a few other technical errors that planted a seed of doubt. Regardless of intent, the effect was perfect for the skin-scrawling music that enveloped her. At the end of "Shock," her voice became enmeshed with a sea of noise, her face washed away into static by the band's videography (supplied by none other than Sannhet's AJ Annunziata). Briefly, all of Savage Exile's fear and anxiety invaded the physical world and manifested as a human voice, screaming in the face of death from the belly of a broken machine....
Savage Exile was released on December 1st via aufnahme + wiedergabe. Follow the band on Facebook here and Bandcamp here....
Psycho Las Vegas 2018 Unveils First Round of Line-up Announcements
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Hold onto your hats, scarves, toupeés, etc. as Psycho Las Vegas gears up for next year's installment of the decadent desert-bound festival. We were stoked to cover this year's gathering (day one, day two, day three), and based on this in-depth research, we're predicting that this year's will be just as jam-packed and enchanting. Indubitably, the desert is like no other place, and there is no festival quite like Psycho Las Vegas. Hot off the press are the below bands which comprise the first round of line-up announcements: Witchcraft Goblin Zakk Sabbath S U R V I V E Indian Dvne...
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Important details follow. The dates: August 17th to August 19th, 2018. The location: Hard Rock Hotel and Casino. The tickets: purchasable here starting at 1 p.m. EST on Friday, December 15th. The links: Facebook event here and official website here. The bonus: the first 2,500 tickets sold will come with access to the pre-fest pool party (heaps of fun, by the way). The cliffhanger: more juicy details will follow, so stay tuned....
Roadburn 2018 Adds Godflesh, Boris, & Waste Of Space Orchestra
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The latest iteration of Roadburn is shaping up to be a real barn burner. The festival, based out of Tilburg, Netherlands, has announced another batch of artists, joining the ranks of Converge, Bell Witch, Crowbar, Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Panopticon, Cult of Luna, and more. In addition to that already ridiculously stacked line up, Converge frontman and 2018 curator has added Godflesh, Motorpsycho, Forgotten Tombs, and a collaborative set from Thou and The Body. Collaboration is a key theme in this batch of announcements. Japanese drone masters Boris will be teaming up with Sunn O))) guitarist Stephen O'Malley for a performance of their debut album Absolutego. Oranssi Pazuzu and Dark Buddha Rising will be teaming up as the "Waste Of Space Orchestra" to perform a multimedia piece commissioned by the festival itself. The two Finnish bands should have no problem mind-melding considering that they both dive deep into the world of psychedelia and drawn-out vamps, a wonderful fit for the audio/visual narrative the festival is cooking up. If these collaborations aren't quite your speed, Roadburn will also feature sets from Hooded Menace (performing Fulfil the Curse), Khemmis, Kairon: IRSE!, and black metal act Zuriaake, the first band from China to perform at the festival. Check out the full lineup and ticketing information over at Roadburn's website here and watch a video breaking down all of the new acts on the bill below....
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=865pLke8Gjw&feature=youtu.be...
Top Albums of 2017 – Rhys Williams
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2017 was another killer year for metal, particularly for established bands staging either comebacks or stellar additions to their extensive catalogs. Such greats as Cannibal Corpse, Dying Fetus, Goatwhore, and Incantation all released excellent new installments, and there were some absolutely killer returns to form from projects like Akercocke and Wolves in the Throne Room. Still, new blood continues to course and new innovations proceed apace. Bask was my personal favorite new discovery of the year (new to you, that is; I'd known of them since 2014, but this was the year they really blew up), and Forceps came out of a blue nowhere to knock my head off with their debut. But really, it was a high-quality year across the board: hell, so many excellent war metal records got released this year from bands like Pig's Blood, Heresiarch, and Crurifragium that I had to give them their whole article! Bearing all this in mind, it was hard to parse out a top 20 from the 2017 field: in the end, most of these albums are roughly equal to me in how much I enjoyed them, simply ranked out of necessity. And yes, some of these releases may stretch the definition of "metal" a good bit, but they were such a necessary addition to the landscape of the genre that I felt it mandatory to do so. Another year passes, another looms on the horizon. Here's to more life, and more death....
Honorable Mentions:
20. Electric Wizard – Wizard Bloody Wizard (Spinefarm Records,FI) 19. Pyrrhon – What Passes For Survival (Throatruiner Records, US) 18. Mastodon – Emperor of Sand (Reprise Records, US) 17. Acid Witch – Evil Sound Screamers (Hells Headbangers Records, CA) 16. Primitive Man – Caustic (Relapse Records, US) 15. Khazaddum – Plagues Upon Arda (Self-Released, US) 14. Ragana – You Take Nothing (An Out Recordings, US) 13. Pallbearer – Heartless (Profound Lore Records, US) 12. Death Fortress– Triumph of the Undying (Fallen Empire Records, US) 11. Falls of Rauros – Vigilance Perennial (Bindrune Productions, US)...
The high priests of Southern Goat Metal are back, motherfuckers! Goatwhore made their signature sound clear years ago with Sammy Duet's distinctive sliding riffs, Ben Falgoust's iconic vocals, and a driving rhythm section equal parts black and groove. Vengeful Ascension does not re-invent the goatwheel, but instead perfects their assault just that much more. The riffs are just that much punkier, the rock 'n roll vibes have that much more swagger, the Celtic Frost influence just that much heavier. But there are new elements too: Falgoust experiments with low vocals, Duet gets more solos, and "Chaos Arcane" even has a chorus, which given Falgoust's distinctive stream-of-consciousness lyrics is certainly new territory for Goatwhore. It's a true banger of an album, a rough and tumble slice of American hatred and certainly as good as, if not better than, any of Goatwhore's previous work. Who needs a God when you've got Satan?
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This one was definitely my "Big Surprise" of 2017. I saw this band in a small bar about the size of a large living room with probably fifteen people, ten of whom were in other bands. Needless to say, they fucking brought it. This is the platonic ideal of brutal death metal: technical prowess without descending into wankery, spectacular musicianship, and most importantly the ability to switch from intricate shred into some seriously heavy riffage. And it's this sense of songcraft that Forceps really shines on: they're adherent to the Cannibal Corpse/Cattle Decapitation formula of interspersing insanity with crush, never afraid to slow it down and really chug on a few chords without descending into dull breakdown territory. 2017 was a championship year for brutal death metal, and Forceps was easily the rookie of the year.
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I was overjoyed this year when I heard that the British gentlemen Satanists of Akercocke would be reuniting, but Renaissance in Extremis was not what I was anticipating. In many ways, Akercocke can be argued to be exploring a similar evolution to Behemoth before them: using an extended hiatus to refine their sound and ultimately shift their aesthetics in a more interesting direction. Just as Behemoth ditched their leather dresses and incorporated atmospheric black metal into their sound to craft their masterful The Satanist, Akercocke have abandoned the suits and turned their gothic-rock and Carcass-style melodic death metal motifs up to 666, making for an album that is entirely distinct from their past work and yet of a piece with it. Their cohesion is still incredible: David Gray remains one of the unsung virtuosos of metal percussion, and the dual guitar tag-team of Jason Mendonca and Paul Scanlan has never been tighter. And yes, perhaps Mendonca's clean vocals are more uneven than on previous releases (though his growls are still top-notch), but he's at least trying new ideas out, replacing the operatic soar of Leviathan with a widely ranging delivery that moves from almost Justin Broadrick-esque mumbling to something that almost sounds like Tom Waits. If this album is any indication, I will be extremely excited to see where Akercocke moves forward from here.
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Right after the release of this album, I happened to catch All Hell at a show opening for Bask (more on them later). After their ripping set, I chatted a bit with guitarist/vocalist Jacob about their new album and noted that they'd appeared to shift from a more Celtic Frost-ian punk-influenced attack to a more first-wave black metal, Bathory-influenced sound. His response was simply "We replaced 'OUGH!' with 'EEEAAGH!'" That, in a nutshell, is All Hell's latest release: 41 minutes of vampiric, primitive black metal Necromansy that batters down the Golden Walls of Heaven in a triumphant Return of the Darkness and Evil. I'm sorry, I'm trying to fit too many Bathory puns in here. Just go listen to this album, it's a banger.
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Incantation needs no introduction, but perhaps a little context. Over the past decade, the whirlwind, cavernous death metal of Onward to Golgotha has become in itself a death metal sub-subgenre, with bands such as Vasaeleth, Antediluvian, Portal, and others upping the murk factor to make insanely creepy, occluded, blast-beat driven death. One might worry, then, that Incantation might get lost in the murk, so to speak; however, Profane Nexus is just the latest example that McEntee and co. have no intention of sticking with the mob. As the other "caverncore" bands got murkier and whirlier, Incantation got cleaner and simultaneously thrashier and doomier. The production on this album is crisp and big, with just enough grit to keep it real. Kyle Severn is back on drums, and his delivery is perfect, switching seamlessly from grody death/doom on "Incorporeal Despair" and "Visceral Hexahedron" to blitzing Kreator-style deathrash on "Xipe Totec." The best death metal bands are those who hit their distinctive sound early on and have since continued to augment it with new influences, adding new towers to their mighty fortress. Incantation have, once again, proven that their fortress is one the mightiest of all
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Cathedral was always going to be a hard act to follow, but Lee Dorrian truly outdid himself in his successor project, With The Dead. Allied with ex-Electric Wizard guitarist Tim Bagshaw, With The Dead made itself instantly distinct from Cathedral and the Wizard by adopting an entirely different musical and philosophical outlook. Bagshaw's tone doesn't so much crush as pulverize, his low-end scraping the eardrums like a glacier over bedrock. What really sets Love From With The Dead apart from the average 21st century doom record, however, is its completely nihilistic outlook. Imagine if you took Electric Wizard's "legalize drugs and murder" mantra and replaced the nostalgic Satan/biker imagery with the bleak, misanthropic outlook of, say, eyehategod. Songs on this album touch on mental illness, drug addiction, and the industrial degradation of Dorrian's beloved hometown of Coventry, closing with an ear-splitting collaboration with harsh noise artist Russell Haswell. This isn't feel-good bong-hit doom; this is the bleakest doom metal yet witnessed, and a brilliant achievement in the marriage of heavy music and heavy emotions.
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I've been a Wolves in the Throne Room fan since their inception, but the one thing I always thought about their music was that it could be a little too "ethereal." It was excellent for setting a mood of wildness and awe, but sometimes felt low on substance, particularly on their 2014 ambient/neofolk experiment Celestite. With Thrice Woven, WITTR did what I have always wanted from them and have synthesized their graceful sweep with a newfound grit and muscle. The drums have a weight that they didn't before, the guitars sound bigger and beefier, and Nathan Weaver's vocals are more savage and immediate than I've ever heard them. Yes, there are still plenty of ambient and neofolkish sections, particularly on "The Old Ones Are With Us" and "Angrboda," but they now have a firm backbone of robust black metal to stand upon. This juxtaposition is key, and at times brings to mind the best work of such black metal legends as Windir and even Emperor. I don't think I would be alone in saying that Wolves in the Throne Room have, with Thrice Woven, crafted their best record to date.
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I AM BE DANGEROUS NOW. NOT ME HURT WHEN STAIRS FELL DOWN. BE PUNCH BY YOU ME HIT HEAD. ME NOSE BROKE SOON YOU BE DEAD.
Jokes aside, this record is the sound of one Neanderthal bashing another to death with a big-ass rock, and I couldn't get enough of it. John Gallagher is a fucking master of brutal slamming riffment, and the rhythm section remains as equally dynamic and pounding as ever. And the production! Clean, crisp, but not compressed, the platonic ideal of what brutal death metal should sound like, period. The title alone is dumb genius: WRONG ONE TO FUCK WITH. WHO THE FUCK YOU PICK TO FUCK WITH? THE WRONG ONE, MOTHERFUCKER. WALK ON HOME BOY! This was hands down my number one gym album of the year, and lemme tell ya, if you need a 2017 album to improve your deadlift PR with, accept nothing else.
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In a reference that will no doubt confuse some metal fans and ennervate others, it has been said of Weird Al Yankovic that "every album is his comeback, until his next one." To me, this would seem to be the equivalent condition to Cannibal Corpse. The Corpse is quite possibly the greatest death metal band, ever. A lofty qualification, but how else could one possibly describe a band formed in 1987 that released four albums now regarded as unassailable classics of death metal and then, after a middling decade, began a jaw-dropping streak of superb albums that is now entering its eleven year? No other classic death metal band comes close: not Suffocation, who have traded members like baseball cards; not Deicide, whose recent albums are best described as mediocre, or Obituary, whose workmanlike music is always enjoyable but has never truly excelled? Only Cattle Decapitation can hold a candle to Cannibal Corpse, and even then its clear to whom the glory must go. For on their latest offering, Red Before Black, Cannibal Corpse have released a fucking masterful death metal album. With all members pushing fifty, they've crafted an album whose energy and intensity runs laps around bands half their age. Hail to the masters of death!
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Perhaps Bask is not "metal" enough to belong on this list. But then, where do we put them? They tour with metal bands regularly (hell, as I stated above, I saw them with All Hell this past spring, who are as metal as metal gets), they have metal side-projects (bassist Jesse van Note plays in NC underground black metal legends Black Mountain Hunger), and dammit, their music is heavy as fuck. So what if it's not "brutal" or "ripping"? Bask, like Baroness and U.S. Christmas before them, have perfected the art of being 'heavy" without brutality: it's a monumental sound, encapsulating the joi de vivre of being alive and rambling. The production is magnificent, the riffs memorable, and above all the sense of place is palpable. This is an Appalachian band, lest you forget, and easily the most evocative of such projects since Panopticon's legendary Kentucky. And let's not overlook how cohesive this album is: you can sense both a narrative and melodic arc running effortless from the invigorating opener "Asleep in the Orchard" all the way through to the epic closing of "In the Black Fir." Ramble Beyond is the perfect package of melody, volume, aesthetic, and songwriting, and thus deserves to be at the top of every discerning listener's 2017 best-ofs, metal or not.
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Follow Cryptae Into the “Maze”
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Many death metal bands tout the weight of darkness and madness in their music. The cavernous sounds of a crazed beast just around the bend, deep within some forgotten cave. There is an eeriness to it, but it is now all too manufactured. Much like the "jump scare," your "caverncore" band is a cheap thrill. The imagery found on Dutch avant-death metal band Cryptae's debut EP is a stark departure from death metal's dark hues, a featureless humanoid creature emerging from the depths of a geometric anomaly. A postmodern display of spine-tingling expressionism, the artwork is empty, even more burdensome than the sensory overload of the blackscapes which now riddle death metal. It is a true fright, a figure of dread from the unfeasible vacuity. Much like their imagery, Cryptae's own death metal offerings are hollow -- minimal spasms of jagged death metal irregularity and terror. However dense (rest assured, Cryptae's eponymous debut is dense), Cryptae's four parts emanate an empty, metallic clanging, a no-wave mask on an amorphous death metal blob. It bludgeons and blasts, but with a sense of gloom held therein. This void-beast is lumbering and massive, carrying the explosive paroxysms of energy within its amoebic pseudo-being. Much like their logo, Cryptae only hints at a defined form, a barbed, rounded miasma of shapes and sounds all their own. The Cryptae tape EP will unleashed by Sentient Ruin Laboratories on December 22nd. Listen to "Maze", the EP's dizzying closing track below. Weave your path with yarn -- do not get lost....
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Follow Cryptae on Facebook....
Top Albums of 2017 – Jon Rosenthal
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The dreaded year-end list. I believe I lectured the lot of you on the whole "don't be prolific" thing, which I still hold dear (but I won't make that same point again. Fine.), so it's lecture time to talk at the lot of you again. As it turns out, only listening to new music gives me the worst anxiety. Sure, there is always good music to hear and it probably deserves a listener or two, but forcing familiarity kind of… sucks. It sucks a lot. Sometimes I feel like I'm on a playdate with the band because our moms met at the grocery store and wanted to try and do that weird "we are moms and we should be friends" thing. It doesn't feel too natural when compared to the natural way people find or discover new music. This was the year of nostalgia, really digging into the music which inflamed my passion in the first place. There is something so comforting in revisiting the music you loved as a teenager and finding out it's still great. There is a lot of wisdom to be gained from these older releases, and sometimes, if we're lucky, the people who made them can offer valuable insight. Listening to the music I loved when I was a teenager, when I first tried to make music on my own, brings a sense of catharsis and wholeness to me which taking brief, abandoning steps into new music I likely won't listen to again does not offer. I suppose talking with some of my favorite artists about their older releases helped fuel my own reminiscence, and maybe the resurgence of the "established artist Renaissance" which inexplicably happened this year (great new albums from Satyricon, Fleurety, Paradise Lost, Cannibal Corpse, Samael, Electric Wizard, Sarke, Steven Wilson, and so on), hasn't helped, but it's really re-solidified my own taste. The music which sticks with you does that for a reason. Remembering it so vividly makes it timeless, if just to you. In my own searches, I found many (almost too many) albums which I've essentially memorized, back before I had to dissect each new album; a time when I would just sit and let something play on repeat. I've tried to reclaim that again this year, but… y'all make too much music. I hate to go back on my promise against lecturing about prolific artists, but… stop abusing Bandcamp: don't put out five two-song demos over the course of a few months. Let it breathe! Maybe then you can make something timeless. So, before we really dig into what I liked from this year, here are my top 10 nostalgia listens of 2017: Kvist - For kunsten maa vi evig vike Empyrium - Songs of Moors and Misty Fields Ulver - Nattens Madrigal Drudkh - their first four albums count as one, right? Porcupine Tree - In Absentia Alcest - Souvenirs d'un Autre Monde Nortt/Xasthur - Hedengang/A Curse for the Lifeless Katatonia - Discouraged Ones Dornenreich - Hexenwind Anathema - Alternative IV You all need to listen to these albums. They are good for your health .Part of me wonders if this nostalgia clouded how I enjoyed new music this year, but I also don't really care. This guy knows what he likes. A few reminders: 1) This covers from December 2016 through November 2017. I'd add the new Nortt album if I could, otherwise. 2) That one album you like isn't missing, it's just on your list and not mine. Don't ask where it is, because it isn't here. In an attempt to be nice, or at least come off as such, I am mildly curious as to what your favorites are, so be sure to comment with your top three or five. Be sure to add links to save us the trouble of hunting down your favorite raw black metal band with an unpronounceable name, yeah? See you next year. Be nice....
Honorable Mentions:
20. Vintersorg - Till fjälls, del II (Napalm Records, Sweden) 19. Sarke - Viige urh (Indie Recordings, Norway) 18. Nocturnal Triumph - Into Light's Graven Womb (GoatowaRex, United States) 17. Wode - Serpents of the Countercosmos (Avantgarde Music, England) 16. Samael - Hegemony (Napalm Records, Switzerland) 15. Mork - Eremittens Dal (Peaceville, Norway) 14. ALA.NI - You & I (No Format/Sony Music, France) 13. Aerial Ruin - Nameless Sun (Independent, United States) 12. Kimi Kärki - Eye for an Eye (Svart Records, Finland) 11. Anguis Dei – Ad Portas Serpentium (Svart Records, Japan)...
Following a decade-long slumber, Markus “Ulf Theador Schwadorf” Stock’s sleepless giant re-emerges from self-imposed exile. More popularly known for his work as the legendary, romantic Empyrium, Stock extended his talents into select, sparse side projects which, too, met their demise with his main project in 2004. Sun of the Sleepless was by far Schwadorf’s most unique child, at least aside from the pastoral Empyrium, eventually growing into a bizarre, chilling juxtaposition of Burzumic asceticism and mechanical trip-hop beats. In a way, the void sounds of Sun of the Sleepless’s self-described “poetic black metal” acted as a foil to Empyrium’s lush, autumnal gloom.
After Empyrium’s reformation in 2010, The Turn of the Tides marked another imbalance in Schwadorf’s performance. It wasn’t bad, by any means, but there was a certain revelry in the band’s performances of songs like “The Franconian Woods in Winter’s Silence” which spoke to a greater desire to record something marginally blackened once more. Sun of the Sleepless’s sudden return certainly fills that void, but this new incarnation shows Schwadorf’s solo project casting off chilling electronic detachedness in favor of the emotive atmospheres of his earlier works, albeit through a more modern, atmospheric black metal prism. The bombastic, spine-tingling aura of To The Elements recalls this solo artist’s early-and-constant perfection of the “gothic metal” genre, projecting a cobwebbed, Victorian misery on a black metal canvas. In Sun of the Sleepless’s resurrection, Schwadorf finds balance once again.
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The music found on Markerna bortom is smooth and balanced, blending rounded, whispering neofolk with nostalgic albeit lively rock and metal. Much like his previous work in Lönndom, to which Petterson alluded when this album was announced, Markerna bortom is music of duality, celebrating myths and the might of nature from a source of awe and reverence, richness and acidity, focused through this unique musician’s creative lens. Though nostalgic and continuing a style from a time past, the tense, beautiful autumn of Markerna bortom follows Petterson’s ever-maturing style, a constant practice which dates to the 1990s. Saiva’s pastoral beauty will be a lively addition to any playlist for autumns and winters to come.
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Urarv is strange. There are elements in Aurum which seem familiar on the surface level: the black metal-esque riff-work, the harsh vocals (Aldrahn's unique howling, ranting, and raving), the rhythmic intensity. It all feels like black metal, but there is this air of avant (or at least progressive) rock which takes the band into a completely separate territory. Aldrahn, Patricia, Sturt, and the surprising addition of Ynleborgaz (Make a Change, Kill Yourself…, Angantyr) take the initial separation of black metal approached by the second wave stalwarts in the late 1990s to early 2000s — what was initially called post-black metal — and twist it into a jagged, uncanny valley version of itself. It resembles black metal on the surface, and yet there is something "off" about it: something unsettling which suddenly becomes glaring and upsetting. Of course, upsetting seems to be the root of Urarv’s inspiration, first conceived by Aldrahn’s meditations on modern ego during a stay in a mental care facility, and Urarv itself seems to separate from black metal’s definition-obsessed ego.
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What a befuddlingly unique, playfully dark album. The band's self-described "progressive pop" is certainly true to its name, a dark cabaret of stark, urban electronics, complex compositions, and snide charm. Never before have I heard such a stunning representation and complexities of interpersonal relationships through a ten-minute ballad about baseball, and yet I am wholly convinced. Even now, after spending months and months with Blackbox, I find myself mostly unable to put into words why I like it, and yet each listen is completely mesmerizing and revitalizing. I suppose this sort of reaction isn't really to be expected from someone who is supposed to, you know, write about music, but being presented with something so completely unique presents problems for the writer.
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It seems unfair to include this album on a year-end list. I haven't been able to listen to it often. It makes me cry. I think it makes a lot of people cry. Phil Elverum has always been one to make music so sincere it borders the uncomfortable, but the plaintive manner in which he mourns his wife's (Geneviève Castrée, 1981-2016) death through diary entries and explanations to his infant daughter is just heartbreaking. It feels so real, wearing his sadness on his sleeve to somehow make sense of it (in his own words, "it's dumb"), and his exceedingly lonely musical performance only enhances his wandering ramblings. Little hints at melodies from old songs of heartbreak (the small reference to "The Moon" in "Soria Moria" just ruins me) carry so much more weight now from the broken man trying to hold himself upright for his daughter. I honestly can't listen to it without full preparation, because my day will be over and I will be inconsolable. How does something so emotionally potent exist? Does something I can't listen to really deserve to be a favorite of mine? From the bombastic, zen mind explorations of Sauna, we return to Elverum's fragile state, that which fueled so much of his music. I feel wrong liking this as much as I do.
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What kind of year is it where Satyricon's new album is a "dark horse"? After their self-titled album's abandoning of the "black 'n' roll" style to which they had grown accustomed between the legendary Rebel Extravaganza and The Age of Nero, the slate was wiped clean for this long-standing, creative duo. Now under a much more progressive guise, Satyricon turns black metal on its head through odd phrasing, deep textures, and lengthy melodies, all of which traverse their discography but with a future-bound momentum. Sigurd "Satyr" Wongraven is generally one to think himself a genius (and quite literally reinforces that in Dayal Patterson's Black Metal: The Cult Never Dies, Vol. 1), but this is the first time in years where I side with his ego. Maybe this new direction was sparked by his own experience with mortality, or maybe he just got bored of stagnating, but Deep calleth upon Deep's own creative spirit reflects the bizarre nature which made Satyricon's early works so inspired and venerable.
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I revel in gloom. It's true. I also love Planning for Burial, which is also true. Thom Wasluck is this well of creative despond, and each piece of music he releases is like an arrow straight to my soul. Maybe a little closer to Leaving this time around, Wasluck's reaffirmation of "Gloom," some misshapen mass of metal, slowcore, post-rock, and shoegazing ambiance, is all the more bombastic and heart-baring. Below the House is this strange "missing link" between what I thought was a duality in my taste, bridging my love of soft, textured indie rock with the volume and violence of metal. A truly stirring album.
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Following a mildly disappointing career as a rock band (I felt Kristoffer "Garm" Rygg's voice was too smooth and sultry for what was otherwise great music), Ulver follows my entire musical timeline. From the beloved Trilogie onward, there was this modernizing which felt like, for lack of a better term, "growing up." Or "out." Throughout all the adventures through electronic music, trip-hop, ambiance, Garm and Tore's vision still retained the darkness held at Ulver's core since even before Tore even joined the band in 1997. Returning back to the electronic music which defined their mid-period (Perdition City, Blood Inside, and Shadows of the Sun), Ulver flexes the pop sensibilities learned from their active, rock-era, and made a glorious gothic, electronic pop album. Sincerely put, each song packs a wallop; from "Rolling Stone"'s infectious chorus to "1969"'s dark brooding, it seems that Ulver's post-Trilogie career was building up to this moment. Wolves evolve, and so do we.
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The bar for creativity in black metal has risen yet again. For someone who particularly enjoys the stranger half of black metal's lineage, the return of Fleurety has been met with warm emotion and nostalgia. Joined by a man of equal importance to that creative movement, Ved Buens Ende's Carl-Michael Eide, we find ourselves thrust into a modernist future, where pop, progressive rock, black metal, and jazz are one and the same. Always ones to give metal convention the one-fingered-salute, Zweizz and Alexander N. refocus their songwriting skills and what was originally a kaleidoscopic, wide view becomes a destructive laser. Rhythmic, joyous, childlike, artful, harmonious, disturbing, The White Death runs this cartoonish, delightful gamut which screams "You didn't listen to us in the 1990s and now you've stagnated." Fleurety will forever be this beacon of silliness which hurls damnations at the horrendously conservative nature of the style they initially denied.
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God, what a beautiful album. Granted, I feel all kinds of beautiful nostalgia when listening to To the Bone. After so many post-Porcupine Tree albums where Steven Wilson flexed his instrumental prowess, which was fine, he finally returned to the glorious "progressive pop" which made me first fall in love with his music. It seems that remastering all these seminal progressive and art-rock albums (Emerson, Lake, and Palmer, XTC, Peter Gabriel, et al.) has reawoken Wilson's ear for ear-catching, evocative songwriting, and this tour de force reaffirms and expands upon what made Porcupine Tree so great. I'll be honest when I said I hesitated listening to this, and even dismissed it at first. It wasn't until a few months later, when the big voice harmonies hit during the opening title track, that I realized just how stupid and dismissing I was. The emotions I feel when listening to this, somewhere between emotional fragility and intense happiness, left a lasting impression which I relive with each new listen. I listen to To The Bone almost daily, and count the days until I get to (finally) see him perform in May.
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Upcoming Metal Releases 12/17/2017-1/16/2018
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Hey friends. You might have noticed we didn't run our usual column last week. That is because there wasn't one! You will also notice that this covers December 17th through January 16th. Yes, it is a long period of time, but it's pretty sparsely populated. It's the end of the year, so the latter half of December and first half of January tend to be a little light on the releases. Instead of sending out three columns where maybe one or two releases are mentioned (there is actually one release on my calendar for this week, go figure), you get a bigger column and I get a vacation. I'll still be around, obviously. See you next year. Here are the new metal releases for the weeks of December 17, 2017 – January 16, 2018. Release dates are formatted according to proposed North American scheduling, if available. Expect to see the bulk of these records on shelves or distros on the coming Fridays unless otherwise noted or if labels and artists get impatient. Blurbs and designations are based on whether or not I have a lot to say about it. See something we missed? Goofs? Let us know in the comments. Plus, as always, feel free to post your own shopping lists. Happy digging. As a little bit of a challenge, include your own opinion about anything you want to add. Make me want to listen to it! Please note: this is a review column and is not speculative. Any announced albums without preview material will not be covered. Additionally, any surprise releases which are uploaded or released after this column is published will be excluded....
ANTICIPATED RELEASES
Nortt - Endeligt | Avantgarde Records | Black/Funeral Doom Metal | Denmark The sullen master returns, but you'll hear more about this on Wednesday. Summoning - With Doom We Come | Napalm Records | Epic/Atmospheric Black Metal | Austria So here's the deal: I love Summoning. Yes, the music is chintzy and the fantasy atmosphere sounds more like a D&D table than an actual castle, but god damn is it captivating. Or… it was captivating. Old Mourning's Dawn was a fine album, if lacking when compared to its predecessor, and With Doom We Come continues this downward swing. The chintzy element I brought up earlier? It's gone, and the duo of Silenius and Protector have suddenly made greater attempts at both cleaner production and bigger sound. It doesn't feel as legitimate anymore, erring on the upsetting end of corny -- a plastic and manufactured action figure instead of the painstakingly hand-painted pewter figurines which came before it. I'm sure some will probably enjoy it, and sure, Protector's suddenly very expensive synthesizer replacement sounds fine, but my love for Summoning sharply declines after 2006's Oath Bound. Watain - Trident Wolf Eclipse | Century Media Records | Black Metal | Sweden A good Watain album? And it's almost 2020? Sure, why not. Completely casting off the cock rock which made albums like The Wild Hunt so, uh… something, Trident Wolf Eclipse turns back the clock to 2003's Casus Luciferi. Did you know Watain was a ripping, melodic black metal band at one point? Yes, Erik Danielsson and crew are certainly capable. Sure, people who want Sworn to the Dark 2: Satanic Boogaloo will have to look elsewhere, but I am of the opinion that black metal Watain is the best Watain. Panphage - Jord | Nordvis | Black Metal | Sweden RIP Panphage. This mysterious solo artist's final outing before laying his band to rest, Jord (dirt) is Fjallbrandt's finest work to date. A magnificently sharp, wintry black metal attack, Panphage's gloriously memorable, final anti-cosmic black metal work is a fitting epitaph for an untouchable discography....
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OF NOTE
Eternal Helcaraxe - In Times of Desperation | Naturmacht Productions | Black Metal | Ireland So, all the talk of "war metal" over the past few decades definitely makes me feel as if the tag is improperly used. The triumphant, melodic music found within Eternal Helcaraxe's latest album is a melange of might and foreboding… kind of like a war. At least, I would assume as much. Loth - Apocryphe | Vendetta Records | Black Metal | France Fairly standard autumnal black metal -- lots of acoustic guitars and rainy sadness. Not that there is anything really wrong with that. Sinistro - Sangue Cássia| Season of Mist | Sludge/Doom/Post-Metal | Portugal Not terribly long after their last album, Sinistro begins to tip the scales on their dramatic mix of cinematic rock and post-metal brawn. Now much more dramatic and atmospheric, this Portuguese band increases the distance from their NeurIsis roots to something uniquely emotive. Nova - Soli Contro Il Mondo | ATMF | Black Metal | Italy Though their label refers to this particular album as a "sharpening of the traditional Nova sound," there isn't much here outside of a more traditional melodic black metal album. Luckily for us, Nova does it extremely well. Sometimes it is okay not to reinvent the wheel -- work smart, not hard. Heidevolk - Vuur van Verzet | Napalm Records | Folk Metal | Netherlands From Rhys's premiere of "Ontwaakt":Already, one can tell that this is both an old and a new Heidevolk: gone are the fur-and-leather Iron Age garb of past iterations, replaced by a more generic all-black style in the vein of Amon Amarth. The music, too, is darker than much of Heidevolk’s output, reflecting the moodiness of Batavi more than the jauntiness of Walhalla Wacht or Uit Oude Grond. But don’t disabuse yourself of the notion that this isn’t “Heidevolk” anymore, as de Wijs’ basso rumble is as epic and stentorian as any of the band’s past vocalists, and he meshes with Vogel as effortlessly as Vogel meshed with Bockting. Every now and again a violin can be heard, but the riffs are solid, minor-key, and punishing. This is Heidevolk at its most cohesive, musically.Hamferð - Támsins likam | Century Media Records | Death/Doom Metal | Faroe Island Dramatic, tragic death/doom in the beautifully gothic Peaceville 3 style. It's hard to believe a band of this style would win the Wacken Metal Battle competition, but even a cursory listen reveals Hamferð's immense talent. Corrosion of Conformity - No Cross No Crown | Nuclear Blast | Crossover/Thrash Metal/Stoner Rock | United States A new Corrosion of Conformity album… with Pepper Keenan?! It had been rumored, but after two new albums as a trio, I had all but accepted Keenan's full retirement as a member of Corrosion of Conformity. Now back in the fold, No Cross No Crown is the beefiest album in the band's library, if just since In The Arms Of God.
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FROM THE GRAVE
Drawn and Quartered - Feeding Hell's Furnace | Krucyator Productions | Death Metal | United States The most putrid and horrifying death metal. You don't hear people talking about Drawn and Quartered like they used to -- maybe use this reissue of their 2012 album as an opportunity to do a deep dive....
Deadlift Lolita Grapples Con-Alt-Delete
Ladybeard and Reika in action. Photo credit: Andrew Rothmund.[/caption]
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How is an anime convention in a suburban Chicago hotel relevant to this website? We managed to think of two reasons: unabashed fandom, and the furthest reaches of the extreme. Metal is our focus here at Invisible Oranges, so much so that it's our obsession. There are those out there who share the same level of obsession, just through a different catalyst. We, like others, take things to the extreme -- we search for extreme music, extreme forms of expression, things new, groundbreaking, and interesting. We're nerds, dorks, dweebs, and freaks. Such is the nature of passion and those special few who it beholds. To all those passionate people out there: never be ashamed of the object of your pursuits (that is, unless, your thing is like being an asshat toward others or needlessly hateful). So it was: "Con Alt Delete" last Friday night, featuring a performance by the inimitable Deadlift Lolita. They're a smash-'em-up-metal duo comprised of Richard "Ladybeard" Margarey (cross-dressing Australian bloke, one of the nicest dudes in existence) and Reika Saiki (buff yet petite Japanese girl, bubbly and friendly as hell) who pro-wrestle baddies on (and off) the stage to power metal, breakdowns, and slam riffs. We, the "esteemed" Invisible Oranges Editors Jon Rosenthal and Andrew Rothmund thought it would be utterly sinful to miss out on their J-pop/metal-fueled insanity. So we set out in the suped-up Mini Cooper toward the great unknown (knowing literally nothing about anime, ready to learn via observation from the hotel bar* and awkward interactions with wandering Pokémon on the way to said bar) to find something reflective of our sometimes lost and deeply befuddled selves. *The hotel bar (in this case, Hyatt Regency Rosemont's Red Bar) is a classic sociological hotbed for cultural understanding and meaningful expression. This one didn't seem to be occupied by the convention-goers; its patrons offered an outside perspective on the costumed, fanfared madness going on downstairs. Our bartender (an extremely friendly middle-aged woman) was unfazed by the cartoon occupancy -- perhaps she's seen even worse, or maybe anime conventions feature kind, respectful people in comparison. Although, some jerk (an assumed non-convention-goer) at the bar referred to Rothmund as Seth Rogen, and Rosenthal as Workaholics' Blake Anderson, which are both plain 'ol inaccurate. Take off the shit-goggles and keep your daft thoughts bottled, Mr. Otherwise-Unimportant....
https://www.instagram.com/p/BcvnDWfhW9k/?taken-by=invisibleoranges...
Yes, we were drinking. Of course we were drinking. These were high times, fraught with all the expectedly concomitant anxiety. Rosenthal decided to thicken the plot and numb some of the tension by ordering shots of Jack Daniels Rye (we had no prior clue of its existence), only they came as neat pours… $13 each or something outrageous; nevertheless, they nicely followed the several beers we'd already gulped. Our excitement for Deadlift Lolita -- and being able to meet Ladybeard and Reika face-to-face for hugs 'n' high-fives -- was unquellable, undefeatable, and (to be honest) incredibly childish. The end of your twenties only increases the power of reminiscence, especially with respect to that furious excitement you used to feel, but no longer do because you see that the world is a bitterly cold desert of numbness and defeat. We seek out these little enclaves of fantasy (plus mind-altering substances) -- the whole dressing-up aspect symbolic of our desires to escape reality -- to allow expression to flow freely from the inside to the outside. In the moment, "on the stage" of the Hyatt Regency's confusing floorplan, we transform into new selves, truer reflections of who we are deep down. Without the social scene and the support it provides, this level and depth of expression would be impossible; with nothing strong holding the outlet open, external pressure (hate, discrimination, presumption, stereotyping, etc.) forces it shut, sometimes forever. So how do two metalheads -- dressed as such (Rosenthal sporting a Palace of Worms t-shirt plus a black leather hooded jacket, Rothmund a Wolves in the Throne Room t-shirt and black hoodie) -- blend in/out of the this anime scene? Well, we donned costumes of our own, really, and those in costume seem to be accepting of others in theirs as well, despite any obvious differences. In fact, we felt abnormally normal, meaning we'd have been more comfortable dressed in masks, capes, plastic swooshie pants, and cardboard armor. Nevertheless, we interacted with several kind folk throughout the convention: a witty and eccentric photographer who taught me (Rothmund, a pathetically amateur photographer himself) some trade tricks, and a wheelchaired older woman in the Deadlift Lolita crowd who scoffed at the fact that neither of us had been to a Metallica concert yet dared call ourselves metal journalists. Damn, she was right....
We were stumbling about, meandering aimlessly awaiting the 8 p.m. Deadlift Lolita showing, our eyes darting wildly from costume to costume -- Bender (Futurama) here, Goku and Vegeta there -- purposely trying to avoid those unavoidable glances at the more scantily clad patrons. This was a "PG-13" show according to the website, which turned out to be accurate… and we could go into the whole "lolita" thing (exemplified by Deadlift Lolita, of course) and its implied/implicit sexualization of youth, but that's a huge discussion of course, and one perhaps outside of our scope here. Suffice it to say: we didn't really notice any unsavory types eyeballing or ogling. That's not to say that there weren't any... certainly a dark pair of sunglasses would offer the incognito necessary to conduct rude glances and stares, and there were definitely folks in dark sunglasses. On the other end of things, it's a fear that perhaps we (two fugly white males, but nowhere near as bad as Seth Rogen) can never fully understand -- the fear of being eye-fucked or groped (signs which read COSPLAY IS NOT CONSENT donned the walls), essentially -- but we think its apt to point out that this convention, and we presume anime conventions as a whole, would offer such wrongdoers ample opportunity for heinous acts. But the scene is strong and guarded, with most partakers allied on the same social justice fronts, and rude behavior is certainly not tolerated, zero exception....
Earlier on, the technicalities of being the press at a show had presented themselves as expected: for instance, we needed to make a few phone calls to Teng, the Deadlift Lolita manager, for our passes after being totally lost upon our grand entry. We hurdled these obstacles with aplomb, or so it felt; we probably looked entirely lost and slightly scared. Hopefully we didn't look like actual creeps, though our polite and genuine demeanors should have canceled out any unintentional/automatic labeling based on our appearances. And the reverse is true as well: in unknown territory, the creatures among us felt like aliens, but we know that while our bodies/brains tell us one thing (i.e. be afraid of the unknown), and we can use our minds/consciousness to actively understand people from their perspective. This is the only known cure for "The Fear." Open-mindedness and a learning/questioning attitude can go a long way in this world of diverging and ever-specifying social groups. It takes things like empathy, respect, and perhaps most importantly: the acknowledgement of ignorance. There's nothing wrong with not knowing; there's something wrong with not knowing and substituting an artificial, unilateral "truth" in place of truth as understood by those subjected to it. Suddenly, we were a sociologist and an anthropologist again, though this inquest felt so strange that attempting to maintain the outside, non-judgmental view indeed felt mountainous. Though, as we will always know, outsiders of the metal world might feel similarly....
[caption id="attachment_59520" align="alignnone" width="630"]
Besides, how the fuck else could you make sense of this?[/caption]
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The most obvious thing: these people shared the same intense passion for their object (anime) that we have for our object (metal). Both are artistic forms of expression, both have their own set of politics, both produce meaningful products for consumption by a persnickety and particular audience. Stripped of all embellishments, we felt on the same nerd-level as those around us; likewise, our initial anxieties (totally natural) dissolved smoothly into the ether (lubricated by alcohol, of course). By the time Ladybeard and Reika were to make their appearance -- any time now, for fuck's sake! -- we felt comfortable and at one with things. It's a nice feeling, one which doesn't come too often, and one which should therefore be cherished and loved. Having attended dozens of concerts during our tenures as a metal fans, we doubt we will witness anything else quite like Deadlift Lolita ever again (lest we feel the urge to brave another anime convention). In short, they were the sound of caffeine and bright colors, some innocent pipedream of a young child reared on the pageantry of professional wrestling and their dad's stash of Pokémon cards. This singing, dancing, flexing, high-kicking, wrestling mishmash is some sort of "Renaissance crew," mastering all within their purview. Ladybeard and Reika were likewise master performers, especially to their selected crowd, and maintained a balance of cute, childlike innocence and metallic, muscular violence. Though some might disagree, Deadlift Lolita is a metal band, and they want to pump -- clap! -- you up....
[gallery galleryid="846:59518" galleryindex="0" ids="19082,19077,19081,19078,19079,19080,19083,19084" enablefullscreen="yes" showthumbs="no" ]...
To us it felt like a hallucination, this brief period of our lives directed by some fictitious Japanophile Ed Wood. These jacked performers pirouetted and headbanged across the stage, smiling and flipping each other over with glee. Set to a soundtrack of saccharine, almost maddening "playtime metal," it was overwhelming, all these sights and sounds colliding in our skulls and bouncing around, effectively shredding any leftover grey matter. Between songs, the dynamic duo would somehow hold Olympic bodybuilding poses, meant to painfully flex full muscle groups, for lengthy periods of time. It was exhausting, both for the performers and the audience -- or maybe just us two, because apparently the rest of the audience only reacted with semi-dancing hand motions (lamesauce). Suddenly, Ladybeard and Reika were not alone onstage. An ominous speech referring to an attack by local wrestler Jesus Bryce (who called Ladybeard a "tiny, non-muscular girl") just weeks before was suddenly met with a tense drone. Two wrestlers from the Indianapolis area were suddenly straight-on attacking (well, "attacking") Reika and Ladybeard. It was violent. It was extreme, the crowd booed, and a common enemy was established (in jest, of course). Have you ever seen a choreographed fight on stage… at a metal show? It truly is something, even moreso when it leaves the stage entirely. Deadlift Lolita were suddenly the underdogs, attempting to take on these intrepid locallers in an ecstatic routine which made its way through the entire crowd in the hotel's dimly lit ballroom. We've heard of intense, stage-transcending performances, but a five-minute fight which partially puts the crowd at risk? Punches and kicks flew, bodies soon thereafter. Suddenly, extreme metal wasn't so extreme, and Deadlift Lolita's own performance changed our own perceptions, if just briefly, as to what "extreme" even meant. "Overwhelming" suddenly didn't capture what was going on, and the sedentary audience was so undeserving....
[gallery galleryid="846:59518" galleryindex="1" ids="59541,59537,59538,59539,59542,59540,59543,59545,59536,59544" enablefullscreen="yes" showthumbs="no"]...
Sure, the colorful, kawaii aesthetic fit their interests, but metal? Not so much. Deadlift Lolita was preceded by some awful, theatrical nü metal abomination opening act which was met with a similar fervor from the crowd, which begs the question regarding placement of interest. Maybe it was all just aesthetics to those in attendance, the "cute factor" overriding any other artistic element thrust in their face and ears. Preferring to mirror Reika's hand motions, the audience might not think of Deadlift Lolita as a metal band, which suddenly makes these Otaku perhaps similar to those who dismiss the band altogether. But we didn't care. We were overjoyed, smiles reaching ear to ear. This was something so new, so alien, that the most we could do was let this colorful dream completely override our brains. We had no idea which way was up, which was down -- we were completely abducted by the J-pop/metal/wrestling goings-on, all so frantic and strobe-infused and unhinged. We were strangers in an even stranger land, but it didn't matter anymore, at least when Deadlift Lolita was mid-performance. To be captured within the moment is the essence of all live music, this included. "We have one more song, and we need you to dance with us." Dancing? What's dancing? Are we supposed to do something other than headbang, stand with the cross-armed stare, or give the horns/oranges at metal shows? The shift in reality was now a wormhole, and we were beginning the process of spaghettification… or at least we thought. As it turns out, the "dance" for Deadlift Lolita's "Pump Up Japan" is actually a small, full-bodyweight calisthenic routine. Extended flex -- chest fly -- extended flex with squat -- jump! What is this? Do Deadlift Lolita truly want to pump up Japan? Because the audience was trying to manage, but ended up keeping the hand motions to a flopping al dente. We got the sense that everyone could have tried harder; we wish they could feel Ladybeard and Reika's exhaustion onstage which was so blatantly apparent backstage later. It's so much more than a floor show or metal performance with a extended routine -- Ladybeard and Reika are putting their own bodies on the line, performing hourlong extreme workouts while still managing to sing along to them. It's surreal. There is nothing else like it....
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0z02v-vX0Es...
Backstage, Ladybeard was the more exhausted of the two, completely starfished on the ground and groaning while sweat pooled in his eyes. This is what the poorly groomed, mostly standstill crowd (we won't go into the complex bouquet of body odors smelled that day) doesn't see. People don't think about how taxing a performance like this can be on the human body, no matter how muscular and ecstatic that body might be. Their night wasn't over, though, as the two changed into new, not-as-sweaty outfits to prep for signing. There were fans to meet, photos to be taken, posters to be Handcock'd. Even so, Deadlift Lolita made time for us, and we had lovely conversation with the performers and their "local wrestling enemies," who, as it turns out, were equally as kind and thoughtful. "Hey Reika, it's Invisible Oranges!" "Ahhh!" Sweaty hugs were had. Did either of us think we would be found in this situation six months ago, excitedly embracing a lolita-aesthetic wrestling duo at an anime convention? No, but it's okay. There is no such thing as "metal cred" anymore, and, honestly, Deadlift Lolita is probably "truer" than most extreme metal out there. They are giddy, excited about making music and performing. Sure, the pageantry is nothing like what any sort of metal calls for, but there was a time when even leather and studs were these new, funny things met with ridicule. Say what you will, if you truly feel that way, but Deadlift Lolita don't care. They're too busy playing and turning frowns upside-down.-- RosenRoth
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tECT-xYprrM...
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