Damn, it was good to get gut-slugged by loud music again after over two years' abstinence.
Mortiferum hit us with a ton of sludge, a form that seems to settle deep around the hairy quartet's Olympia home. The slow/slower/slowest tempos of drummer Alex Mody changed often enough to keep us alert, and the guitars of Max Bowman and Charles Slaker echoed with thrilling atonality alongside Tony Wolfe's waydown bass. Dude, they grooved, while also achieving technical ecstasy. Their current "Preserved in Torment" captures the atmo in rich detail.
Imperial Triumphant reinforced their role as metal's new priesthood with robes, golden masks, and hieratic gestures replacing devil horns. The New York trio's sound conveyed a certain coded communication, too -- the complex rhythms of drummer Kenny Grohowski supporting guitarist Zachary Ilya Ezrin's chordal dissonances and bassist Steve Blanco's offbeat stabs. The ceremony extended to between-song recordings that set up moods of Pangaeic jazz trumpet, urban noise and the kind of mental unsettlement in which one can maybe hope to find beauty. They were both distinctive and progressive, and the L.A. audience did itself credit with a warm reception. IT responded by popping a cork and pouring champagne for the front row. Though it was unclear whether they were celebrating the Rams' Super Bowl victory, Ukraine's resistance to imperialism, a holy transformation or just somebody's birthday, it didn't matter. We'll celebrate whatever.
Heads really began to bang with the arrival of New York veterans Immolation. Flogging their torrential new "Acts of God," the quartet blasted out the brand of doublekick fury (drummer Steve Shalaty), guitar counterpoint (the dissonant solos and black riffs of Robert Vigna and Alex Bouks) and woofing doom vocals (bassist Ross Dolan) that many have imitated over the last three-plus decades. Immolation played like a machine and made us feel like grateful cogs. The ticketing service email said, "We hope you enjoyed Immolation." We licked our burns and said yeah.
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1720 is an airy warehouse venue on 16th Street with solid sound, a sane crowd and competent staff. Good on ya.