Don’t you hate when the coppers interrupt a perfectly fine basement ritual? Pigs please go home. Obligatory anti-establishment rant is now over. Let’s talk dirty.
Since they only have three songs and no pictures, it sucks that you won’t be able to see the gruesome twosome’s faces, but all I can tell you is that a vocalist from Untombed drums in this band. I must admit, I wasn’t entirely sold on the first song, but the second and third won me back with a quickness. Raw, dirty, and yet melodic Black Metal that sounds like it was simply made to be performed in dingy Allston basements. Check ’em out here if you want a quick roll in the terminal filth of ages.
Hot diggity dog, I wasn’t expecting to nearly have my face sanded off. With a name that’s obviously not borrowed from a great Emperor album, I was expecting some run-of-the-mill Black Metal, but was instead served up a platter of hateful Crusty Blackness that made every negative emotion I’ve ever felt in my life seem infinitesimally small in comparison. Despite some technical issues with the second guitarist, they still plowed on through as if it was all a part of the act. Hell, the drummer/lead vocalist dropped a stick at one point and recovered it without missing a single (blast) beat. And you better bet your sweet bippy he’s better than this goofball. Melding all the best parts of Ramlord-esque Blackened Stenchcore and some straight up Chicago anger produces a volatile substance that not even your thickest beaker can hope to contain. Too bad they’re not “true”, but at least they like pizza.
Yet another band with no pictures, yippee! Another Chicago band following along with WD on a tour, and certainly the oddball in this collective of black-clad bearded men from the North, as they are a Grindcore/self professed “Mincecore” band and seemed to be a bit more chill, at least in appearance, with the guitarist and vocalist showing up dressed and slightly tanned as though he were already several months ahead, weatherwise. Like the Japanese word they based themselves on, meaning “assassin”, they came in, brutally massacred their set for all of 8 or so minutes, and departed as quietly as they came, not even bothering to do a soundcheck. It was pretty good er… “music”, as the drumming and vocals were the only audible bits in the sound. The guitar sounded like a low pained groaning, so yeah, not exactly gonna recieve high marks for that, but they were entertaining and that’s what matters, not the fact that Hitokiri turns up more Ruroni Kenshin results than any band would feel comfortable with. And now would be a great time to whip this out.
Your number one source of Vitamin K, the vampyr lords Nachzehrer have since grown tired of normal human flesh, and have decided to turn their eyes to the impure blood of
coffins basements inhabited by people of punk persuasions. Nachzehrer are a mean, lean, cold metal machine. Those words should never be used again.
Nachzehrer are a Black Metal band from the Boston area, boasting some of the meanest and truest howls that sound like they’re coming from afar even if they’re only 6 feet away. They mix their black magick arts with the intensity of Thrash, so if you see them, please mosh to be annoying. Or don’t, you might find yourself bloodless. Just sit back and watch them blast and shriek their way through a set that will woefully be cut short if the BPD has anything to say. My money’s on the neighbours calling the cops because they felt the evil aura around the Box Fort that night, and needed to stop it two songs in, lest there be demons crawling out of the basement in place of drunken and broken humans. Always fear the pig.