All Photos by Philip Cosores
Liturgy find themselves in a strange position: they are a band that subscribe to all of the facets of black metal, but that have been latched on to by some indie/alternative publications. Online hipster locales seem to be uniformly praising this band – a band that subscribes to a genre that is, due to its anti-religious traditions and typical aesthetic, widely regarded as un-hip. Is it because singer Hunter Hendrix goes around making holier-than-thou claims that his band make “transcendental black metal”? Is it because this band hails from Brooklyn? If the attendance to their show at The Echo on Saturday is anything to go by, none of these seem to have really helped popularise the group. They probably weren’t helped by the fact that they had to play an early show, falling into the social black hole between when people return from their Saturday afternoon activity and before they go out again for the evening. But, if Liturgy proved anything unequivocally, it’s that no matter how many people they’re playing for, they’re going to be professional, tight, and loud as heck.
Opening act, Chelsea Wolfe, is in a similar position to Liturgy. Her music is a lot more indie-friendly, but any press shots of Wolfe, or even the front cover of her upcoming album Ἀποκάλυψις, suggest something darker and altogether unsettling (maybe even unhealthy in the eyes of some people). This was reinforced when she took to the stage in a black veil, completely obscuring her face, that wasn’t removed for the entire performance. Her voice completely suits her whole appearance, though, and hearing her captivating tones emanate from beneath her headwear was something that simultaneously seemed strange and perfect. Wolfe’s material mostly revolves around her brand of noir doom-pop, which worked nicely on the stage, particularly the looping, almost-a capella “Movie Screen.” Dalliances with relatively straight forward rock, like “Demons,” showed hints of Sonic Youth, which made a nice change from the gloom (though, as the title suggests, “Demons” isn’t exactly a summertime staple). The majority of the set though, was wholly Wolfe; her vision, her style and her music. And over the course of her jaunt with Liturgy followed by the release of her new album next month, I’m sure she’ll find several new subscribers to her design.
Liturgy took to the stage shortly after, and without exchanging many words proceeded to indulge in some of the finest heavy rock music I have witnessed. The charge was led by Greg Fox, whose crushing drumming seemed to make the whole venue shake. Throughout the performance all of the members of Liturgy made sure they could look up and follow Fox’s lead at any time, with Hunter even facing his microphone side-on, as if to keep one eye invested in the crowd and the other on the percussionist. This was a necessity as Liturgy’s music can change direction at a drop of a hat, and it’s key to remain tight so that every strum or pluck of the guitar hits in unison, providing the most rewarding of sounds. Through epic instrumentals, the Brooklynites thrilled with their pulverising rock, never seeming to need to employ the loud-quiet dynamic, staying at full force throughout.
The only problem to all this: Hendrix’s voice. For a man who can write a long and prosaic essay on what the purpose of his music is, it’s surprising to me that Hendrix doesn’t sing any lyrics, and instead opts for what those in the know affectionately term “banshee screaming.” To me it sounds like a gust of wind whipping down a corridor, which is actually a pretty cool sound, but when paired up with the muscular rock of Liturgy it comes off like a bad comedy sketch. Regardless of what I think, these are the facets of the genre, and nobody else seemed to care. And, at the moments of complete loss of abandon that peaked with the music, the screams did in fact work nicely.
Liturgy’s set came and went fairly rapidly in a series of builds that just led to more builds, not fully letting out the tension, and instead keeping everyone on edge. The spaces between songs were barely enough, and when the end came – although it may have been too soon for some fans – the feeling of having gotten off that musical rollercoaster ride, and remembering that there are other sounds in the world, was almost as euphoric as the time spent on it.
