Cannibal Corpse, 1349, Skeletonwitch @ House of Blues

Metal shows should not have washroom attendants. For some reason, blues clubs are the worst about this. B.B. King’s in New York has a washroom attendant. So does House of Blues in Los Angeles. I understand the desire to provide patrons with comfort. But when 10 million metal dudes are standing in line for the loo, it’s hardly comfortable to finish one’s business, face down some guy in a suit, accept a napkin, and fish out a dollar from one’s pockets. That’s inefficient.

Unsurprisingly, these kinds of venues have no vibe. Everything is clean. The temperature is slightly cool. The staff are numerous and professional. These would be good traits for, say, a hotel. And music venues need not be dirty, hot, or lacking in service to have a vibe. But it’s sad that they are not immune from the corporate removal of soul.

The upside of having no vibe is that a venue becomes a blank slate. Artists can make of it what they will. This was evident when Cannibal Corpse played at Los Angeles’ House of Blues recently alongside 1349, Skeletonwitch, and Lecherous Nocturne.

Lecherous Nocturne whipped up a din that didn’t come across in a thousand-capacity setting. Bands that live and die by the blastbeat thrive in smaller spaces. The blastbeat is, for the most part, an exchange of power for speed. It does not reach the back of big rooms.

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Skeletonwitch‘s blackened thrash lived up to the artwork for their latest album, Breathing the Fire (reviewed here). Years of touring have made the band tight. The members stand far away from each other, but they play as one. They are comfortable with their instruments and with themselves, accentuating their music with unforced headbanging. Chance Garnett has evolved into a frontman’s frontman. He punctuated syncopations with flair and precision, as if conducting some mutant orchestra. But, really, he was conducting the crowd. Well-timed remarks about metal brotherhood and weed went down a treat. His banter was enough to bond with the audience, but not so much as to slow down the set. It flew by, leaving raised fists and beers in its wake.

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1349 were confused about whether or not to cater to the crowd. They did their best to create a dark atmosphere. Like their latest album Demonoir, ambient interludes alternated with proper songs. At times the band turned its back to the audience. The bassist wore a hooded cloak and cleverly applied corpsepaint to his hands, in addition to the usual face makeup. But the band didn’t know whether to project hostility or solidarity. At times it was heads-down in Black Metal with capital letters. At others, it pumped its fists and bounced around the stage in a rock ‘n’ roll fashion. This confusion characterizes 1349’s last two albums, but it was at least interesting to watch.

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The Clash have a beautiful little song called “Jail Guitar Doors”. I’ve never gotten what that phrase exactly means. But it came to mind when Cannibal Corpse played. If clang, clang go the jail guitar doors, then boom, boom went the oversize cars that the Corpse seemed to lob into the crowd. The soundman at House of Blues is worth his weight in gold. He somehow made Nile sound heavy, and he made Cannibal Corpse perhaps the heaviest band I’ve ever heard live. Riffs felt like big engines turning over. Paul Mazurkiewicz delivered body blows like clockwork. He may be the most no-frills drummer I’ve ever seen. But any frills would have weakened the attack. Cannibal Corpse are the world’s biggest death metal band for a reason: they crush.

The proof was in the human pudding, so to speak. During Cannibal Corpse’s set, my friends and I stood in the balcony. We watched a sea of people grind itself up below. At ground level, the action was undoubtedly much faster. But from above, it looked like slow waves. The floor was so packed that a moshpit seemed out of the question. But people were determined to make it happen. They pushed to get onto the floor, causing people 15 rows ahead to buckle. They slogged through the mass of arms and legs. They carved out space where there was none. Then they slammed into each other. People 15 rows all around buckled. They fell onto their neighbors, who fell onto their neighbors. Rows of human dominoes waved back and forth. Some hardy souls crowd-surfed into the moshpit. This was heavy music at its best: a straight line to the human primal nature. As Cannibal Corpse said, time to kill is now.