Skeletonwitch, Misery Index @ Santos Party House
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Concerts, and metal shows in particular, are still my preferred method of escapism. Heading into New York City for a show is particularly fun – anticipating it all day at work, downing a few tall boys on the train ride there, and grabbing chicken on a stick (affectionately known to my friends and me as “rat dick tacos”) from a sketchy street vendor are all part of the ritual. Santos Party House is the destination, and it holds a place in my heart as the venue where I witnessed one of the best shows in my life: Unsane with Keelhaul, Pigs, and Disappearer. The sound here can be hit-or-miss, but tonight it will swing like a sledgehammer.
We arrive and discover that Trap Them has dropped off the tour due to some kind of health issue. Despite being generic on disc, they are monstrous on stage. It turns out a local band is opening the show now, one which my old band gigged with years ago. People are happy when they’re done playing.
Misery Index gets the crowd going in no time, and it finally feels like a real show. They groove and destroy, doing right what so many deathcore bands do wrong. Pay attention, kiddies: songwriting comes before breakdowns. Hired gun Darin Morris, one of the Criminal Element crew, adds an extra layer of guitar to complement the low-end onslaught. With a drummer like Adam Jarvis, Misery Index is a band that emphasizes rhythm. The precision lockstep on display tonight proves they are its masters.
I’ve had the pleasure of watching Skeletonwitch evolve over the last five years, mutating from a standard black/thrash outfit to something much more. With their latest effort Breathing the Fire, the band has established themselves as a vital force in heavy metal. They acknowledge and revere the past, but avoid the trap of repeating it. Ripping solos, galloping breaks, and dueling guitars are all there, but it’s not a Priest/Maiden rehash. They incorporate just the right amounts of black metal, thrash, old-school death, and NWOBHM into their songwriting, and then release the secret weapon: vocalist Chance Garnett. The man is heavy metal incarnate – tattered denim, hair flying, bounding across the stage like the devil’s after him – and he whips the crowd into a fury. Stage divers pop up out of nowhere, and are dispatched just as quickly. Who says there’s no smiling in metal? Garnett is grinning from ear to ear, enjoying the show just as much as us. This is why we came.
Um, Job for a Cowboy played, too.
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