LIVE REVIEW: THE EYEHATEGOD WEEKEND, PART 2

Eyehategod
When: Sunday, June 20, 2010
Where: Empty Bottle, Chicago, IL
With: Nachtmystium, The Atlas Moth, Yakuza, Bongripper

and

Ten Suicides
When: Sunday, June 20, 2010
Where: Reckless Records Wicker Park, Chicago, IL

Two trains (Blue Line at Divison, Forest Park-bound to Monore Red Line Howard-bound) and a bus (N201) later, I was back in my Evanston apartment. Cradled backed into the arms of yuppiedom (why I actually live there is a long story).

I did not want to be there. What I wanted was more punishment. Time to get reckless at Reckless.

Wicker Park, for those who haven't been to Chicago, is where American Apparel/Crystal Castles-fixed-gear types hang out. Pitchfork's home base is there. Enough said. Therefore, a noise set would be quite abrasive to the regulars. Luckily, Ten Suicides were plenty harsh. Comprised of Eyehategod's Mike Williams and Joe LaCaze, Mark Solotroff, Isidro Reyes, and James Moy of Bloodyminded, and Ryan McKern of The Guilt Of..., Ten Suicides was a little under 30 minutes of ear-splitting electronic manipulation. Solotroff screamed into a cornucopia of microphones, Williams strummed loosely on his guitar, LaCaze pushed his way and screamed into the crowd, and no one was making anything resembling Starlight Vocal Band. Due to the confines of the venue, it wasn't quite as confrontational as a Bloodyminded show, but still a hell of a good time. At the instore, I saw plenty of veterans from last night, including Zac Ohler from Strong Intention. 3 p.m. was the right time for us. Any earlier and people would still be sleeping off the hooch.

A few hours of rest, and back to the Empty Bottle! I expected tonight to be slightly more mellow (key word: slightly), due to the doomier opening groups, but that did not prove to be the case.

After having a beer with Charge Shot blogger and former Crustcaker Jordasch, I went up front to check out local doom merchants Bongripper. I had originally set out to see the band back in January at the Speed Trails at leftist compound Locked Out, but from what I suspect is a unwillingness to give in to irony, the band never played. Their name could say it all: low-and-lower doom that I'd have to consult Aquarius Records on how many o's to use for "doom." But Bongripper also have a thing for harmony. Underneath the subsonic rumblings were melodic constructions attempting to gain air. To say the least, it sustained my attention. Unlike most doom bands whose only speeds are "stroll through the graveyard" and "crawling in tar," Bongripper thrashed it out on occasion, and the members clearly had to chops to switch speeds with ease. This quartet is one to look out for in the future.

Usually, Yakuza's Bruce Lamont is behind the bar at the Empty Bottle, but the chance to open for Eyehategod doesn't come every week. I hate to say this, especially because I was really looking forward to seeing them live, but I was a little underwhelmed by Yakuza's set. There seemed to be a disconnect between the band's earlier, more metal material, and the later stuff that leans towards more the atmospheric and psychedelic side of the spectrum. More importantly, for someone who works there, you would think Lamont's saxophone would have came through clearly, but it was a little low in the mix. From what I could tell, Lamont's got a big, dry tone similar to John Coltrane's. All the Yakuza dudes are ace musicians; things could have coalesced a little better.

While BV/Crustcake SXSW party vets The Atlas Moth were setting up, I had considered holding a candlelight vigil for vocalist/guitarist Stravos Giannopoulos's beloved mustache. The band's tight performance and Giannopoulos's pimpin' yellow Ol' Dirty Bastard (R.I.P.) shirt made up for the dearly departed facial hair, however. As if they were all channeling the spirit of Wu-Tang (on the real, ODB's Return to the 36 Chambers is some next-level shit), the band was tighter and heavier than their performance with Harvey Milk, though it's not like they were slacking that night either. Psychedelic elements are as prevalent in their music as it is on their shirts, and luckily, it's not some of that old flower-power tripe. Their vibes are for when the sun goes black and we become hedonists in the dark. Party on, Garth! They closed out with the post-metally number "...Leads to a Lifetime on Mercury," and on that note, I am glad to say Giannopoulos' mustache did not have Sampson-like qualities.

My comments about Nachtmystium's previous performance stand for this one, too, as they played the exact same songs. No need to go further, though I will say this: I wish Plague Bringer could have played again.

As with the previous night, I wasted no time getting to the front once Nachtmystium turned off their amps. I am a glutton for many things, bodily punishment especially. Williams, appearing with two more Cranberry Vodkas, seemed a little more jovial at the onset of this performance, making jokes with the crowd before Eyehategod ripped into the entirety of Take As Needed For Pain. He playfully complained that the band needed to look at a shirt the band was selling on tour that had the tracklistings for Pain and In the Name of Suffering on the back, as it served as the band's setlist. Jimmy Bower and Brian Patton survived the previous night and they still pushed their riffs-and-feedback gumbo as if they were playing to a crowd the size of Live Aid. Over the course of the set, Williams got surlier, brandishing around the mic stand as if he was going to strike someone down. Well, he almost smashed my hand with it. And he punched me in the chest, lightheartedly and with contempt simultaneously. At one point, someone brought the band shots, which Williams declined. The gift-giver took Williams' shot instead. Funnily enough, when that dude tried to get on stage again, Williams shoved that poor motherfucker off stage. His attitude, the wall of southern discomfort created by Bower and Patton, being pushed from behind and some unnamable force - all of this made me thrash harder than the Saturday show. There was more backwoods swamp dread in the air that night.

Western to Lawrence to Red Line to N201 to bed. An intense weekend, one that won't be matched this year.