You rebel scum. This is a well-hidden fortress in the Allston area, looking just about as inconspicuous as any, but still, I feel What We Talk About has a short lifespan, though I do hope to see more excellent shows here. I missed Gaza and New Lows shows, but this time I had the time, energy, and willpower to go looking for it, so there I was like double cherry pie.
I’m assuming these guys are a hot new addition to the music scene, since they don’t even have pictures of themselves yet, and their like counter on Facebook reads low for such a good band. That or they’re a bit camera shy. Whatever may be the case, Bar Sinister bring forth something that will either excite your senses or bore you to tears. They impressed me personally, as their style is hard to pin down with one conclusive tag. They’re a bit Post-Rock, but their songs are too short for that. They’re definitely not Metal, but they’re too heavy to just be rock. They could be called Proggy, but they’re not all that complex, as they’re influenced a bit by Hardcore and Punk. Blah. I’ll just compare them to Cave In’s album Perfect Pitch Black and call it a day. They’re a huge lumbering beast, never going past mid-paced, and yet light enough to stand on your shoulders without breaking your back as they poured both sweet melody and vitriolic anger in your ear. It’s good stuff, go check ’em out on bandcamp.
Falls Of Rauros
I’m surprised it doesn’t suddenly start raining and misting wherever Falls Of Rauros play, because their brand of Atmospheric Black Metal creates bleak landscapes in your mind like no other. Their cavernous bellows sounded as if they came from miles away, and the guitars created a melodic tapestry of ruin, occasionally verging into brightness only to plunge back into the nether. They also have long songs, so people with extreme ADD need not apply. For fans of Summoning, Agalloch, and WITTR and those who wish Black Metal had more good old fashioned headbangery.
Imagine a band that parties as hard as Andrew W.K., possesses the Hardcore/Sludge/Skateboard-obsessed powerhouse hybrid of Doomriders, and throws a hearty helping of old school Thrash on top, sort of like a razor filled gravy. That’s Waranimal in a nutshell for you plebians. Waranimal gave the room a shot of adrenaline straight to the jugular with their grooves, breakdowns, and circle-pit riffs. No movement was to be had, but it was fun enough to listen and headbang, which is a good sign. One song in particular, Waranimal House, sounded like it could’ve been ripped straight from Metallica’s Kill ‘Em All album, showing that they have respect for the greats. Or once-greats, if you’re in that camp. Definitely don’t miss a chance to see these guys, because people aren’t always as willing to just stand there while a carbide drill of ferocity is jammed through their forehead.
Living Void are off the wall, if there are any left should a crowd actually appreciate Living Void correctly. Their hyperdense amalgamation of Deathgrind, Sludge, Hardcore, and straight up Death Metal hasn’t met the most receptive crowds in all three times I’ve seen them, which is a damn shame since the vocalist writhes as though his very skin is an impurity he’s trying to shake loose, and the drummer grows visibly more weary over time from what I can safely say must be the fastest blasts coming out of the Bay State. To say nothing of the 16-ton bass and anguished yelps provided by Anthony Budy of Revocation fame and the pugnacious guitar tone by Kurt, who was sporting a wicked groovy Backslider shirt. I wonder why crowds always seem to freeze up when Living Void plays. Maybe they’re paralyzed with fear from this expression of humanity’s ugliness. Or they don’t know how to mosh to Grind.
I was thinking of leaving before their set as I was hungry as hell and forgot to bring a mammoth snout with me for a snack, but I’m glad I stayed since Phantom Glue are a pretty good band. Like a less epic Tombs worshipping early Mastodon, it was slow and heavy, but also picked up when you think it’s gonna get boring, and had its melodic moments, which made it catchier than other bands that opt for the sound of being mired in swamp goop. One audience member seemed to be enjoying it muchly, as he had about 4 PBRs too many and began ramming the entire crowd like some sort of sentient bowling ball. A lot could’ve broken, but nothing did, and that’s the bottom line, cos Stone Cold said so.
I’m gonna post about something or other soon, like normal. Stay tuned.