Location: ‘EartH Hall‘ London, UK
Headliner: Wolves in the Throne Room, check ’em out on Bandcamp
Supporting acts: Gaerea (here), Mortiferum (and here)
The night was dark and full of terrors — even more so as last Friday eve I found myself in Hackney. Fear heavy in the air, the threat of violence loomed as I came across police tape the moment I stepped out of the tube station. I had to take a detour to get to EartH Hall, where I was under the promise that Mortiferum, Gaerea, and Wolves in the Throne Room would deliver a night of unadulterated black metal bliss. Due to the detour (and nothing to do with the aging audience that attends these gigs which now makes them start at very reasonable times, thank you very much), I unfortunately only caught the last two Mortiferum songs. That brief glimpse was enough to confirm that they put on a tight performance.
Not sooner had they finished that Gaerea started setting up props. This was shaping up to be as much a visual experience, as an auditory one — and swift too so we could soon plunge straight into it. The Portuguese act punched an energy I’ve not come across lately, everything meticulously calculated. When a singer sounds like your darkest thoughts, but moves with the grace and decorum of a ballerina, you know you’re in for a treat. This dichotomy is both unsettling and remarkably fitting, adding to the performative nature of their act. Gaerea manage to transition between contemplative and raw in the blink of an eye; in fact, everything on stage seems to unfold on fast forward. It’s mesmerising, exhilarating, and truly unique. The band don’t need to say much to be in total communion with the audience. The chemistry is real and palpable; the crowd loves them, and the energy is infectious. Bands that can conjure both suffering and optimism will always captivate me. Gaerea stole the show for me that night. Left in divine confusion, I got up and stepped into the light, as the band would say.
With Wolves in the Throne Room, the pace completely shifted, as if the world stood still until the end of their set. Their attention to mise en scene was evident though their casual attitude — sipping wine directly from the bottle (Port, perhaps) — suggested they might not take themselves too seriously behind the cloaks and the face paint. Bringing in elements of once-living nature, WITTR created an eerie atmosphere, with the band barely visible through the smoke. However, seeing them was not necessary; their performance was fully visceral; I felt in in my bones and on the edge of my raised hairs. The band delivered the perfect backdrop for an introspective journey. Going in almost blind, on a perilous path that perhaps was never explored before in public, at times you’d want to furiously headbang, and at others, just close your eyes and find your way back home.
I reluctantly left the venue when the gig ended, wishing I could have stayed for a few more songs, and dreading the journey back to my village. I put some music on, and got on the train. The smell of burnt sage clinging to my clothes protected me on the way back, and made the experience linger just a little bit longer.
