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1349 Concert Review
The forecast for Thursday was rain and scattered thunderstorms, and the skies were indeed looking glum as the evening hours approached. Honestly, I could have hoped for nothing else. What better weather to experience the long-awaited return of Celtic Frost in? Aside from apocalyptic blizzards and ash raining form the skies, I can’t think of anything better.
Arriving about an hour early through the glories of public transportation, I decided to slide on down to Metal Haven for a while and say hello to the good man Mark who runs the store. (Metal Haven is arguably the premier vending locale for honest-to-goodness metal in the downtown area and I am shamelessly street-teaming them here. Check it out). On the way I saw an uncommon number of black T-shirts and long-haired defenders of the faith wandering to and fro. With The Vic (the venue for the show) so close by, it only makes sense, but it still gave me a bit of a strange feeling, knowing so many metalheads were concentrated in an area other than the actual concert hall itself. Sort of that, ‘what if there were a city of metalheads?’ question that sometimes gets kicked around. The store was nearly as crowded as I’ve ever seen it, and business appeared to be good. Mark was in good spirits, as he was going to be attending the show as well—taking the evening off, as it were.
So after a few minutes, I found my way back up the street to The Vic and explored for the remaining 10 minutes or so. It’s a rather elegant establishment, with ornate blue, gold, and red trim decorating the private boxes on the hall’s sides and the front of the balcony seating. The floor itself is tiered, giving nearly every spot in the hall at least a decent view. While I appreciated this, I think the scattered seating that did exist, and the divisive nature of the tiers and low walls had something to do with the crowd’s subdued attitude for much of the evening. An open floor fully packed is far more electric.
So the sparse audience and I waited for a bit, and at just past 7:30, four entirely unadorned, very regular looking (if long-haired) guys walked on stage and started to play with hardly a cheer or a whistle to welcome them. This was the monstrous Sahg, the new ‘doom’ band from Norway featuring members from Manngard and Gorgoroth. One heckler called out something about, ‘Double-breasted! Yeah!’ in reference to the singer’s shirt, but beyond that the few people paying attention seemed a little taken aback that the opening band didn’t look more fearsome. Some recognized King (ov Hell) and called out, but Sahg were otherwise treated like a local token act as they got under way.
It’s true that Sahg are a new group and don’t really have much clout to their name yet, but it’s also very true that their debut ‘I’ is a hell of an album. King, sporting a taped-up five string bass, does an excellent job grounding their massive sound, while Olav Iversen (guitars/vocals) and Thomas Tofthagen’s riffing style spin a web of classic groove with more modern splashes of effects and melodies.
Iversen’s vocals on album seem to sometimes scrape the top of his range, but his live performance shied away from neither high nor long notes, and also managed to include the trance-like filter on ‘Repent’. As a tip of the proverbial hat, they even covered Pentagram’s ‘Live Free & Burn’, which in my humble opinion bested the original.
After half an hour they wrapped up, closing with the crusher ‘Godless Faith’, made more than a few fans, I would guess, and then the tech crew came out to prepare for 1349. By this time the floor was more substantially filled. Some enthusiasts right against the fence up front gurgled, “Hellfire!” now and again, but things remained rather quiet in the twenty minute layover. Just before the set, we caught a glimpse of one of their guitarists running on stage to check an amp, coated in corpsepaint with long hair flowing. It was at this point, moments before my first (professional) black metal experience that I realized the absurdity of it all. Black Metal in a bustling Midwestern hub of commerce, prosperity, sunshine, and open plains. And here were five grim soldiers of Satan preparing to spew venom and intolerance. Peculiar.
My reflections were cut short as their intro track began and they approached the audience, lurking and grimacing one and all, finally coming to stand facing outwards, all arms raised, devil horns pointing out over our heads. It was, I admit, extremely tempting at that moment to give myself entirely to the melodrama of the moment and ‘cut my flesh and worship Satan’, as Dark Funeral would say, but logic prevailed and I took pictures instead.
Once the vocals and guitars all began, I must admit I was disappointed. This wasn’t really their fault, though, since their mixing was actually softer than the ambience that had directly preceded them, so the effect was rather anti-climactic at first. There were a number of staunch fans in the audience, though, and they maintained the audience’s spark long enough for the technicians to turn up the instruments in the mix and keep the mood going. The rather dark lighting on stage made taking pictures a real bother, but it is black metal after all, so I suppose it is appropriate. 1349 carried on very well, keeping my attention more than I would have expected for a black metal band live, particularly one whose subtleties I am not very familiar with. Yet, some of the crowd did not seem very enamored and the end of some songs were greeted with tepid applause and cheers at best from those behind the first few ranks. Although, reflecting on it now, there were quite a lot of people silently holding up the horns and looking rather solemn, so perhaps this is a live quirk of theirs I just haven’t picked up on yet.
They played songs from all three albums, including ‘I am Abomination’, ‘Chasing Dragons’, ‘Manifest’ and so on. After about half an hour, it seemed as though the crowd’s attention span was waning, though, and the black metal ambience of their set was beginning to seem a little more just like guys with guitars playing rock music instead of Satanic Propaganda. I suspect, though, that it is due in part to my inexperience with live black metal performance in general and also my unfamiliarity with 1349 specifically. They did not leave me on a low note, though—they closed with the 13:49 long title track of ‘Hellfire’. This was the first time I had heard the song, and I would confidently say it was the peak of their set. The hypnotic motion of the swaying guitarists and the lulling distorted melodies buried in their sound as the epic came to a close was precisely what I had been waiting for all night. To add further majesty to the moment, someone in the front rows unfurled a Norwegian flag and waved it above their heads, and a surreal wave of pride washed over me. After the last instrumental minutes, they finished without acknowledgement or thanks and abandoned us, just as I’d hoped they would.
And then the real tension set in. Celtic Frost, THE Celtic Frost, 16 years later, was here, in Chicago. For the entire evening, their drumkit had sat upon a raised platform, flanked by banners, taunting us. It now took center stage as all the other equipment was removed, all the supplementary PA’s the openers had used-- everything but the kit, two mike stands, and the banners. And then we waited.
The eager mood was rather disrupted by some glaringly un-metal tech guys who check microphones and instruments, but for the sake of production we will forgive them. I had by now squeezed into the second row, less than an arm’s length from the fence at front, and had as perfect a view as could be hoped for.
Around 20, 25, minutes after 1349 left the stage, ‘Totengott’ began and the lights went down. It’s an appropriate intro for their set, I suppose, but it’s nearly 5 minutes of ambience—after 16 years, 5 minutes should seem like nothing, but even so…
They soon passed, though, and the band finally appeared. My first impression was that they looked quite impressive, Martin and Thomas in particular, both in solid black garb, Martin a robe and Thomas a high-collar black jacket. Very ecclesiastical, except for the shaggy hair of Martin, the omni-present beanie of Thomas’s, and the pale face paint on them both. I was surprised by how short Thomas was, actually. It’s not as if he’s under average, but I somehow expected Tom G. Warrior to be a towering beast, or at least 6’6”. (By the way, I will call their make-up face-paint rather than corpsepaint only because it just didn’t have that Kiss/Immortal vibe to it. A little more Halloween-ish, but not that campy. Appropriate for the setting)
Anyway, there was nothing small about their sound; for their opener they laid down a crushing rendition of ‘Procreation of the Wicked’, vastly more powerful than their album version (understandably, as their new material is heavier than ever, as was the tuning for this set). Thomas’s vocals have maintained that semi-spoken cadence pattern, but that punky timbre is now weathered by 20 more years of experience and resentment of God. The pain and frustration is evident. Their session guitarist and new drummer both fit the set well, but while I respect their talent this night was really about Martin and Thomas, so pardon me if I don’t’ mention them much. Moving on.
Thomas’s first words to us at the song’s end and after nearly a full minute of cheers were, “Chicago…the Frost has returned.” More cheers followed this, of course, and proudly raised horns. I thought he would deliver a speech then, or at least say something about the decade and more that they’ve been gone, but they really did not elaborate on it, instead focusing on the music. They played mostly classic tracks, with cuts from ‘Monotheist’ scattered throughout. Standouts included ‘Into the Crypt of Rays’, ‘The Usurper’, ‘Circle of the Tyrants’ (which had the drunk Russian next to me almost in tears of ecstasy), ‘Necromantical Screams’, and so on.
Throughout the show, I couldn’t help but wonder at how Martin has changed. In the old pictures he was a svelte and clean-shaven. Of course, that was during the 80’s and it’s been 15 years, so I suppose I should have expected some change. But still, he now looks surprisingly like Messiah Marcolin of Candlemass though sporting a full beard and with a bass in hand. He actually spoke to the audience as much as, if not more, than Thomas, and occasionally supplied backing vocals, both rough and clean. And while on the topic of look-alikes, Thomas in his beanie and with the white face-paint framing his perpetual growl could have doubled for Uncle Fester of the Addams’ Family. Irreverent of me, I know, but it’s true. That being said, he could undoubtedly crush Uncle Fester into dust, were he so inclined.
Despite the long absence, they looked confident and at home on stage, and after nearly ninety well-executed minutes, they closed with the new epic ‘Synagoga Satanae’. To introduce it, their drummer stood up, and with dramatic, over-the-head swings of his tattoo-covered arms began to crash down on the toms, time and time again, building to the plodding verse and the eventual Latin and German devotional, which Martin delivered in a detached, trance-like state.
After ‘Synagoga…’ finally ended, Thomas called out to the crowd three times, “Are you morbid?” to which we, each time, responded emphatically in the affirmative. After the third time, he simply said, “So are we…” leaned his guitar against the kit, and walked off with the others to the closing strains of ‘Winter (Requiem)’.
This seemed a rather tepid ending to such a critical experience, so the crowd up front stood and waited for some time, starting chants and cheers, and we all were certainly ready for an encore (or two), but we were in for a disappointment. The lights came up, the security guards gestured for us to go, and we were forced to abandon our posts at the fence. A couple disgruntled fans muttered something about ‘a shitty performance from Celtic Frost’, but I think this was the surprise and frustration of no encore more than genuine displeasure.
I too would have been a little disappointed had the band not immediately thereafter appeared out front in the venue’s lobby, autographing merchandise and shaking hands, really making themselves available for the fans. They did play 90 minutes, after all, and 14 minutes straight to close. Doesn’t sound like a bad set to me, encore or no.
By now, at 11:00, the rain had stopped but the gloomy clouds still obscured the stars and moon. It was a fine sendoff, I believe, and I can rightly say I am well pleased. Three bands, three genres I had never experienced in concert (Sahg count as doom, 1349 obviously black metal, and Celtic Frost just true and monstrous heavy metal), and that familiar ringing is back in my ears. High marks, all around.
Final comments and thoughts:
It really did seem strange that the fans were not as invigorated as they might have been. Either I am setting my expectations too high or Americans really are lazy fans. Maybe both. Celtic Frost deserve better.
As much as they do deserve, I don’t know yet what I think about Thomas having a technician run onstage and plug his guitar in for him as he stands there before the set. Will have to think on this.
Also, I know they’ve been gone for 16 years, but 60 Dollars for a hoodie? This is metal, not the Rolling Stones.
This is for those wondering how to pronounce their name. It’s ambiguous at best, of course, but Martin himself referred to them as Celtic Frost with a ‘K’ sound, not an ‘S’. So, take it as you will.
Almost as good as the show itself is just rubbing shoulders with the flesh and blood of the metal scene. Without even trying, I ran into Larry and Paul of Novembers Doom (Larry being a friendly acquaintance of mine), and Julio Viterbo of underground legend The Chasm. I admit I’d never met him before and he had no idea who this gringo kid sticking his hand out was, but I still feel good for having met him.
When the street address of the CTA stop you take downtown to see this show quite literally is 1349, the night is bound to be a success. And indeed it was.
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