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Coalesce, Harvey Milk, The Atlas Moth @ Le Poisson Rouge

Manhattan’s West Village is home to some of NYC’s best food and pubs. It’s also where one can find Le Poisson Rouge, a venue that usually deals in hip-hop and “experimental” prog/dubstep/whatever. It’s an odd setting for a gig featuring doom and hardcore – when was the last time you saw security in suits at a metal show? – but the ambiance is palpable. As people pour in, the room’s low ceiling and red lights add to a sense of claustrophobia reminiscent of basement shows.

The Atlas Moth hit the stage with a mind-fuzzing wall of sound. Like peers A Storm of Light and Struck by Lightning, this band layers riffs and electronic flourishes without compromising an aggressive sludge foundation. There are three guitarists, one of whom works the synths, and they all contribute vocals. This could be a mess, but The Atlas Moth never miss a step. Each guitar has its own tone and purpose. The vocals work in the same way, with the exceptional singing providing a contrast to the scream/shout delivery.

[audio: COALESCE_TBE.mp3]

Coalesce has been on my concert bucket list for almost ten years. Every opportunity to see them has been thwarted by something or another until this night. “Excited” doesn’t even come close to describing it. In true hardcore fashion, the house lights stay up for the set’s duration. Coalesce have nothing to hide, and one would be hard-pressed to find another act more honest or expressive. They don’t play their songs; they attack them. At one point, Sean Ingram hits the floor hard and stays there, drained from his bellowing. Jes Steineger is a Hare Krishna on mushrooms, flailing around spastic and crazy-eyed. This is not an act; this is a man possessed. Near the end of the set, he launches himself into the crowd, not caring how he lands. The crowd is on the edge of madness, of a riot, of something dangerous. You can have your corpse paint and goat blood, THIS is extreme music.

I feel bad for Harvey Milk; there is no following that perfect storm. I’ve attempted to get into this band on disc to no avail, and hope that their live show will win me over. Alas, it is not meant to be. I enjoy their style and bands similar to them, but it just never clicks. When working out traditional blues numbers, the band is at its strongest. “Lay My Head Down” is the highlight, an aching dirge that would make Page & Plant jealous. But when Harvey Milk turns on the heavy, the songs just seem to meander. It might also have to do with the fact that I am on a Coalesce high that, nearly a week later, has yet to dissipate.

— Chris Rowella