Roibéard, blow your horn

1/20/07

I woke up sweating, my skull filled with still-drying cement. The sun's calloused fist was pummeling my face; I had apparently left the shade open a bit the previous night. At least it wasn't snowing. I stumbled toward the in-room coffee maker, which I'd had the sense to prepare before hitting the sack. With the help of some crazy FOX Kids animal shows, several Special Lights and that shitty, shitty coffee, I became ambulatory by roughly 11 a.m. It was about 1:15 by the time I hosed off, donned fresh garments and wolfed down some chow at the Perkins. (They had raspberry muffins and much better coffee.) Thus, I missed Minneapolis' Manetheren, the openers of Heathen Crusade II day two. This blows, because everyone I talked to who saw them said they were very good. On the plus side, there were still eleven bands left.

Withering Soul - This was the second time in the same week I saw Chicago's Withering Soul. Five days prior, they opened the Enslaved/Dark Funeral gig in Mokena. There was a crucial difference this time in that I could hear synthesizers, although they had no live keyboardist. I guess they were using a DAT machine with prerecorded synths or something. At the earlier show, I had been slightly impressed because I thought they had dropped the keys, but here, with proper sound, the synths sucked some of the bite from the guitars. Suddenly, I remembered what had made me lukewarm on Withering Soul's competent but conservative kind of keyboardy black-ish metal when I first saw them in 2005. As is often the case with this style, the impact of an occasional fierce blast/riff combo was muted by a lot of repetitive, midpaced filler. They closed with a song that begins almost exactly like Cradle of Filth's early hit "The Forest Whispers My Name," reminding me that they had also done so the other day. In truth, Withering Soul is not a terrible opening act by any stretch of the imagination. Their singer cut an imposing figure on stage and some of their riffs were catchy. Still, the organizers already had Vesperian Sorrow, and if they absolutely needed a Chicago-area band that plays a similar style, I would have honestly preferred Veneficum.

Dark Forest - A band with which I was completely unfamiliar, Calgary's Dark Forest is apparently a one-man job with a live line-up (or at least their record was made by one guy). Their folkloric black metal reminded me a little of Agalloch's sparse melodies, but less doomy and more Viking. Before they went on, I decided it was time to start drinking, as that might help completely silence the grumbling my stomach and head hadn't ceased since I awoke. However, I made the decision to try Bell's Cherry Stout, which the venue offered on tap. It sounded like a nice, refreshing way to ease into intoxication. I was prepared for something dark and sweet, but, holy crap, was that shit SOUR. Most of the time I was watching Dark Forest, I felt like I was drinking a glass full of the acid they spray on the outsides of Warheads. I finally guzzled the final half, swearing I would never ingest anything called a cherry stout again, and rinsed out the taste with trusty old Ace Perry Cider. As for Dark Forest, they were okay, but the keyboards were at times overbearing and the vocals could have used more conviction. The riffs were decent. I will keep an eye on Dark Forest, and hopefully won't confuse them with one of the other three Dark Forests currently listed on Encyclopaedia Metallum.

Gwynbleidd - Brooklyn-based Gwynbleidd (Welsh for "white wolf") was one of the bands I was most looking forward to Saturday. I'd only heard the half-songs they put up on MySpace, but those were enough to convince me Gwynbleidd does my type of thing. Their style is obviously very Opeth-inspired, but more like if the Swedes had listened to a lot of actual folk music rather than the '70s prog rock version of folk. Long songs that ebb and flow, choppy death metal giving way to lush atmospheres, harsh growling and soft singing when appropriate, the whole bit. They were the first band I witnessed Saturday whose music had a strong, engaging presence. Of course, it didn't hurt that I've been a big Opeth fan for a long time. A little bit into their set, guitarist Michal sat down with an acoustic guitar, such a dramatic moment that you could hear a pin drop as he plucked it. It struck me that this was the first acoustic I had seen at a fest heavily weighted toward "folk metal," and that except for Månegarm's violin, the instrumentation so far had been your standard metal set-up: drums, bass, a coupla 'lectrics and maybe a keyboard. Gwynbleidd's moderate novelty was welcome, and their skillful songcraft was undeniable. Oh, and I met guitarist/vocalist Maciej and drummer Adam later on. They were very friendly and humble, and although I forsee them eventually climbing to Arsis heights, I imagine that will remain the case. Solid fucking band - do yourself a favor and check them out now.

Earthen - As if the end of my previous paragraph had been broadcast back in time to the fest organizers, eight Chicagoans packed the stage with two acoustic guitars, a violin, keyboards and a huge-ass acoustic bass. Earthen is a brand new band - I believe this was their second gig - headed by guitarist Mike LeGros, a big, friendly dude you may have met if you've hung out at enough Chicago metal shows. Maybe you saw him saw playing with Disinter, or even filling Novembers Doom's revolving bassist slot for a time. This venture is a sort of witchy woodland deal with only one electric guitar out of all those musicians. The vocalist, one of three women in Earthen, has a deeper voice that fits the vibe, which is less fairyland than a lot of female-fronted metal-ish acts and more, well, earthy. At times, you could tell that they hadn't really played out together yet, since they spent a lot of time watching each other in case someone fell behind. It was certainly better than a "practice," though, and while not flawless in execution, the songs were decent folk/goth/metal jobs. I really dug the violin lines, which didn't simply ape the lead melodies, and the girl playing them was astoundingly cute. If nothing else, having all those people on stage was a spectacle in itself. I hope they play some local gigs soon, maybe with this Clad In Darkness about whom I'm hearing so much these days...

Shroud of Bereavement - I'll tell you, when I'm in a darker state of mind, there are few things that can soothe me like stumbling upon a good doom/death band. If I had been really depressed when I got to this year's Heathen Crusade, I would have walked out absolutely worshipping New Englanders Shroud of Bereavement. Their heaving, hulking, painfully melodic doom would have left me blubbering on the floor like a lost child. Sadly, I was not very depressed. They were still pretty awesome, though. Imagine the wrist-slitting growl/riff marathons of early Katatonia or golden-era My Dying Bride, leavened with the symphonics of two live keyboardists and sweet female vocals, yet still utterly despondent. Novembers Doom also comes to mind, as Shroud of Bereavement is also a long-running American act who sounds European, unabashedly emotional and unafraid to speed up the tempo now and then. They closed with a ditty called "...And Then Their Tears Shall Flood the Earth," which ends in a shockingly speedy death metal coda, a bad-ass punctuation to a powerful set. I don't think I'd ever heard of them before I saw the lineup for this event, and that is a shame. I got to talk with keyboardist Mike at the bar later on. He told me he has some experimental side projects, and I dished what I know about the Illinois doom scene. Super cool guy. As was the case all weekend, not only were the band members accessible to fans, but convivial and appreciative. Hey, they had to smoke outside in the single-digit weather with the rest of us.

Hordes of Yore - Remember that long-ass post I left when I put up the current playlist? In my Ensiferum entry, I talked about Viking metal as a commodity. Portugal's Hordes of Yore are further proof. It took all of a song and a half for me to think of them as "the Portuguese Amon Amarth," and they never disproved me. Midpaced, rhythmic melodic death metal with Viking-themed lyrics isn't a bad thing, but considering how good the last three bands had been, I wasn't blown away. I stayed for about half the set, then wandered to the other room and bought some sloppy joes. They were selling them out of the corner of the bar, and you could smell that shit throughout the venue. With two smallish sandwiches and a side of chips, it was a pretty good deal for $4. Then there was some milling about, some shopping, some smoking and a bathroom break before I went back for the end of Hordes of Yore, who were still doing pretty much the same thing. These guys weren't bad, and they had plenty of energy, just nothing amazing.

Mael Mórdha - So, given their self-description of "Celtic doom metal," I had imagined these dudes from the Emerald Isle would be pretty cool. I had no idea. Singer Roibéard Ó Bogail came out blowing a big fucking horn, his huge curly mustache making him look like someone's wacky uncle. The whole band's faces were streaked with "Braveheart"-style war paint. Mael Mórdha's music was comparable to Primordial's newer stuff, but considering the decent amount of folk instrumentation (tin whistle, bodhrán, the aforementioned horn), it is not an exact copy. Although mournful and definitely rooted in doom, the songs had plenty of vigor and movement. The crowd went apeshit for these guys; I almost got knocked flat like I had earlier that week at the Enslaved show. Just like Glittertind, Mael Mórdha got screwed by Karmageddon Media, who released the band's debut LP just before the label went under due to its owner's ongoing battle with the Schuldiner family. Roibéard shouted a roundly-cheered "Fuck Karmageddon," and anyone's sympathies which hadn't turned their way immediately snapped to attention. They sold out of copies of their newer disc before I could get one, which was very upsetting. Later that day, I spoke with Roibéard, who introduced himself as "Rob," and he was totally friendly, amazed at how well they had gone over. He unfortunately did not have an extra copy of the disc, either.

Obtest - One of the most alluring features of metal that comes out of places you don't typically associate with the music is that it usually sounds traditional, but somehow odd. Lithuania's Obtest were a good example of that. This is the kind of band I frequently stumble across on some web site, but when I do a Google search and see some of the acts they've played concerts with in Europe, I'll stop right there. While Obtest is certainly not a racist band, their music has explicit pagan themes, and there are only so many gigs a pagan metal band in Eastern Europe can get. Musically, they were vaguely similar to their Latvian friends Skyforger, who I'll get to in a bit. The rhythms often galloped, almost like power metal, but the guitars had that harsh, fuzzy tone you get with black metal. Their clear and anthemic folk-based melodies haven't already been heard on a million metal records, which made the music very captivating in a live setting. Add to this an outrageously animated vocalist hollering war chants in discernable Lithuanian, all the while sporting leather pants and a poet shirt in defiance of his tunic-wearing bandmates, and you have an idea of how simultaneously ludicrous and cool Obtest's set was. These guys were perhaps the fest's hardest-working band. They were there both days, they had just about every CD and vinyl release in their catalog on the merch table, there were piles of stickers with their logo all over the place, they even made special t-shirts to sell for the show that said "The Lithuanians Invade America!" and something in Lithuanian on the back. I really wish I'd bought one, because Obtest put on a great show.

Rudra - The most savage beating of the entire festival came from this quartet, whose journey to the United States was actually sponsored by the Composers and Authors Society of Singapore. I'd heard their most recent record, from which a lot of their set came, but the recording really doesn't do Rudra justice. First of all, they were the closest thing to a death metal band playing all day, and aside from matching smears of what I assume was ritualistic paint, the band didn't have the theatrical accoutrements of the performers scheduled around them. Whereas the rest of the day was filled with costumery and a parade of native instruments, these guys were dressed in jeans and metal t-shirts, and all the extra instrumentation came from a tape. But Rudra didn't need such fancified frippery, because purely as a primal death/black/thrash band, they rank among the best I've ever seen live. The intricate sonic overload seriously made me think way back to the first time I saw Nile or Krisiun - total awe. Drummer Shiva is amazing to witness in person, a precise whirlwind of hammering percussion. The stringmen were equally tight and ferocious, and bassist Kathir has a perfectly convincing pissed-off death metal vocalist scowl. It's clear that these guys take their music seriously, and once again the crowd was rocked and shocked by another band they'd never (or, like myself, never until recently) heard about. My last rock star story: I got to talk with guitarist Selvam for a few minutes toward the end of the night, when I was good and sloshed. He said Rudra was glad to have been so loudly accepted, and he kindly listened to me drunkenly blather about intercultural exchange and how great it is that people all over the world are mixing metal with traditional music and some other boring shit. Very intelligent and gracious, that Selvam.

Skyforger - By now, I had been guzzling Bell's Winter White Ale for hours, with only those sloppy joes and chips between it and that pear cider I'd imbibed all afternoon. I stood outside for about 15 minutes after Rudra played, smoking and steaming and not really feeling the cold anymore, despite how hard I was thrashing during the Singaporeans' set. Yes, I was baiting the cold I would get a few days later, but I was also good and ready for Skyforger, obviously the big stars of the weekend. Not a hugely popular band by any estimation, they are nonetheless beloved by just about everyone who's into folk metal and can get it through their post-WWII skull that the symbol in their logo goes back a lot further in world history than some murderous asshole who ruined the Charlie Chaplin/Oliver Hardy mustache. And speaking of mustaches, Skyforger guitarist/vocalist Peter had a doozy, a big old walrus job that gave the Mael Mórdha frontman a run for his whiskers. With his bald spot, he looked like a Viking David Crosby. These guys are seasoned live performers, sounding rougher yet more majestic on that cruddy little stage than on record. A seamlessly integrated cavalcade of folk instruments was provided by Kaspars Bârbals, whose arsenal included bagpipes, some kind of flute and something that looked like a zither. I looked the latter up when I got home and found out it is a Latvian instrument called the kokle. Two days later, I coincidentally heard an NPR report about young people playing folk music in Latvia, where they talked about the kokle's importance as a symbol of heritage that was banned under Communist rule, thus for decades only played by rebels. As an obstinately creative and against-the-grain band, the Baltic barbarians of Skyforger carried on that tradition nicely.

Bal-Sagoth - And so it was that Heathen Crusade II came to its glorious close, with a band that didn't really fit the fest's theme as much as revel in the pageantry of swords and magic. British storytellers and madmen Bal-Sagoth are a love-it-or-hate-it proposition. Their songs frequently sound like Cradle of Filth playing incidental music from "Hercules: The Legendary Journeys," and vocalist Byron Roberts alternates between a typical black metal screech and theatrical spoken sections, which he delivers in a deep, (I think) intentionally hammy baritone. There's nothing really silly about their subject matter - stuff like mythical lost civilizations, Lovecraftian gods and battles - but the occasionally jolly musical segment combined with Byron's mannered bluster can be a turn-off to anyone who can't stand real metal with a wink. Me, I've enjoyed their bizarre concoctions for years, and although I was planning to go to the fest before they even announced their participation, they were one of its main draws for old SoulReaper. The crowd thinned after Skyforger, so I got up pretty close. For their first American appearance, Bal-Sagoth took the stage in "Braveheart" face paint that they may have borrowed from Mael Mórdha. Well, all except Byron. He donned this crazy medieval-looking leather mask and a biker jacket adorned with three very telling pins: Batman, Spider-Man and Punisher logos. Most disappointingly, you couldn't hear his spoken parts for a good part of the set; on the last couple of records, he's become fond of a more conspiratorial, whispery tone, and while I first thought there was a mic malfunction, I soon realized he was just speaking too quietly to hear. The band was spot-on, though. Maybe Byron was sick. I didn't stick around after their set to ask... I was pretty wiped and suddenly sober, so I just headed back to the hotel. I would like to see them again to find out, but there are rumors that they're planning to break up soon, so I fear this was it. Still glad I had the opportunity.

The CDs I purchased at the fest: Skyforger's Semigalls' Warchant/Asinslauks, Obtest's Auka Seniems Dievams, Shroud of Bereavement's Alone Beside Her and Gwynbleidd's Amaranthine. All are recommended by the house.

Coming soon to this space: love songs for you and your sweetie (and ex-sweeties), plus a look at recipe numero dos, which was a big hit at the Super Bowl party. Not sick of reading yet? Here's a review of the recent record by Belphegor, one of nine bands I will potentially see this weekend, bringing the number of bands I've seen in 2007 to an even 30. Yep, the year's off to a marvelous start.