CVLT Nation Captures:
The Decibel Tour Los Angeles

Text by Aaron Lariviere

Photos by Adam Murray

Decibel Tour 2012: Behemoth’s Return

I feel alive.

The best shows leave you changed somehow—you walk out of the venue energized, having captured a fraction of the spark you witnessed onstage. Watching Behemoth in concert, they were on fucking fire—I’ve never seen anything like it.
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April 25: the Decibel tour stopped by the Sunset Strip House of Blues on a rare rainy Los Angeles night. I shot over straight from work but still missed local openers Ides of Gemini, who started at some ungodly hour (before 7 on a week day? Really?). Bummer—their new record is fantastic. In Solitude did their trad-metal stuff right, coming off a lot heavier than they do on record. It’s worth mentioning their ridiculous pants: nut-hugging tights or skin-tight jeans—it was hard to tell—but they were ripped in all the right places. Who says metalheads can’t dress? The Devil’s Blood brought a similar sound—harmonized leads, retro vibe, also heavier live than recorded—but had a greater command of the stage. Front-woman “F.” sounded pitch-perfect, easily outperforming her recorded output. Three guitarists on stage felt excessive, but it’s hard to argue with the results.

Read the full review and peep the huge photo gallery after the jump!

 
And then things took a turn for the dark. Watain are known as much for their stench as their music—tonight we were spared the worst of the stink (House of Blues laid down the law in regard to rotting animal parts), but there were still prominent skulls hoisted up to stand sentinel over the blasting death rituals below. Singer Erik Danielsson projects power when he performs—he led the band through sprawling songs, demanding undivided attention simply by exuding strength (a skill he shares with Nergal). Beneath the surface black metal trappings there’s something noticeably calculated about Watain’s music—that’s not a bad thing. At times they’re vaguely reminiscent of Metallica in the way they wield power riffs and weave in threads of epic melody, and especially in the confidence of the transitions. They definitely understand the craft and know how to move an audience. Looked like Watain might steal the show…
 
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To underestimate Behemoth is folly, pure and simple. The instant Nergal stepped out of the shadows he owned every one of us. He knew it, we knew it, and it was good. Given, we were there to see him—anxious to catch a glimpse of the man currently most famous for two things unrelated to Behemoth: surviving leukemia and judging a Polish reality-singing competition. But when you see him live—when Behemoth slam down on a chord and those drums kick in—you feel something stronger than appreciation. You feel his strength. Watching Behemoth felt like an hour of pure triumph. Friends were turning to me in between songs, whispering “holy shit.” Nergal’s strength flowed through the entire band: Orion’s bass was thunder; Inferno’s drumming was the embodiment of power. Adam (whose photos you’re looking at) described the overall effect as “constant forward momentum”, which is dead on. They push forward but never overextend. Even if their stage attire falls somewhere between theatrical and silly, their music—that which matters most—shows a surprising degree of nuance considering the blunt power on display. If this sounds like hyperbole, go see them live—you’ll understand. For a genre supposedly fixated on negativity (death metal, that is)—and this will sound cheesy—Behemoth come off like a beacon of hope. At one point Nergal cried out—“It feels good to be alive!”—an obvious reference to his near-death at the hand of leukemia, and an expression of pure triumph, life conquering death. But in that single moment he spoke for everyone in the room. Reflecting on the entire evening I’m left with a few striking impressions and a persistent, underlying emotion: watching the exponential build from band to band was like a cresting wave, the final moments of the encore were a victory lap, and the knowledge that you’ve witnessed something greater than yourself was a reminder of why we go to metal shows in the first place. Goddamn if it doesn’t feel good to be alive.