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Amon Amarth Concert Review
It was about time another metal tour got booked at the House of Blues. After months of almost complete domination from Mokena’s Pearl Room, heavy metal was finally brought back to the city proper for Amon Amarth’s nationwide trek this fall, with Sonic Syndicate and Himsa in support.
As I walked through the freezing rain to the venue, I compared this trip with the last I had made to the HOB more than a year ago. It had been for Blind Guardian, who coincidentally share with Amon Amarth references to Lord of the Rings (Blind Guardian’s being obvious, Amon Amarth’s name meaning Mt. Doom) and, of course, songs about Valhalla. That first show, though, proved to be nothing more than a warm-up for the pagan fury these Swedes would unleash.
Opening the night were their countrymen (and woman) Sonic Syndicate, whose first label, Pivotal Rockordings, has some of its founding staff based in the Chicago area. Unfortunately, this did nothing to help the young band make a good impression on the hometown crowd. With two lead vocalists, snappy modern dress, and a penchant for metalcore accents, their new-school brand of melodic death metal did not sit well with the audience, who threw up more middle fingers than they did horns.
The twin lead vocal approach is the most distinctive aspect of the band, and this evening it was on full display. Richard and Roland have a strong chemistry together and can trade off lines and harmonize with clean or harsh vocals equally well. The other members behind them also put on a show, jumping in place, headbanging, and so forth.
To be honest, Sonic’s style isn’t something I would generally like very much either, with it’s familiar riffing patterns and pop undertones. However, as their set progressed I found myself impressed with their resilience and professionalism. Had the crowd been polite and accepting, I no doubt would have come away with a worse impression of Sonic Syndicate, but their ability to soldier through the jeers and still put on an energetic and complete set spoke volumes in their favor. After around a half-hour they thanked the audience, despite the harassment, and Himsa as well, whose gear they were borrowing for the tour, and their departure was met with the loudest cheers of the evening so far.
Following them were Himsa, who were met with a warm welcome from the crowd before their set even began. As they set up their gear, they chatted with fans in the front rows and acknowledged those who called them out by name. Most in the crowd still didn’t seem too familiar with them, though, and when someone called out, “Are you from Sweden?” Johnny laughed and replied, “Fuck, no!”
Indeed, Himsa are an odd band to put on a bill with Amon Amarth, but the two bands fit much better today than they would have some years ago. Now that Himsa have shed most of their metalcore roots, though, they play a balls-out form of thrashing American heavy metal that instantly put Sonic Syndicate out of all our minds. I admit that I’ve not paid Himsa the attention they’re due in recent years (perhaps because of unfairly associating them with HIM), so this show served as a welcome wake-up call. From what I could tell, their set seemed to favor their newer works much more heavily, with only a few older songs scatted into the latter half.
Some of the metalcore elements do remain, mainly in Johnny’s vocal approach, but Himsa’s set was blessedly free of angsty clean vocals or ostentatious breakdowns. Instead, they charged full speed into an energetic set full of rolling double kick, harmonized hooks, and an irrepressible badass vibe. In short, their new material sounds not entirely unlike The Haunted, just with a more American rocker edge, and without the bad taste left in our mouths.
The band’s leader on stage was vocalist Johnny Pettibone, without question, who put on as energetic and personal a show as I have seen from any vocalist. From the very first song, he was leaning over the photo pit to put the microphone to fans’ faces, and actually tossing it into the front row a time or two. As the set progressed he followed suit bodily and came down from the stage to climb up the barrier and lean into the front rows. While on stage, he made a point to reach out and grab the arms of every crowd surfer who made it to the front, and there were plenty of them indeed. At other times he ran from side to side, clapping the security guards on their backs, taking the cameras from their video crew and giving them close-ups of all his bandmates. When someone threw a cell phone up on stage, he picked it up, searched through it, and called “Mom” long enough to have the crowd cheer in response to, “This is Chicago!” All of this was accomplished while singing, of course, which he did with a surprising fury and eyes blazing, even as he smiled at fans who knew the words to sing along.
Unfortunately, his vocals were turned down too low for almost the entire set, making it hard to distinguish anything aside from a semi-constant roar and his fierce gesticulations. The rest of Himsa had no trouble taking up the slack, though, and played a slightly calmer but no less capable counterpoint to Johnny. Even Joe, their brand new drummer of only a few weeks, put on a confident and thorough effort, including his first drum solo ever, never mind that it was impromptu and no more than 20 seconds.
Upon reflection, Himsa’s set was probably the most successful of the night. Beyond making new fans hand over fist, they also managed to completely reverse the show’s atmosphere, taking the stage facing sullen annoyance and leaving it with us all abuzz and in high spirits. Amon Amarth may still be the most memorable band of the night, but in all fairness, my hat is still off to Himsa.
Speaking of Amon Amarth, their time to take the stage had finally come. This marked my first encounter with the band, since I had never been too enticed by the headlining acts they toured with in the past. After that evening’s show I was glad to have waited for the real thing. During the layover the audience had plenty of time to gawk at the band’s massive backdrop (the Oden and Sleipnir engraving from the cover of their new album) and the ‘A’ emblazoned shields hanging on either side. Although it couldn’t compare to the setup the band has in Europe—a full-sized authentic Viking ship with the sails as their banner—it certainly trumped anything they could have had as any opening act, even before their longer set time was considered.
Loitering in the photo pit, I chatted some more with the fans in the front row. Some were willing to pay me to bring them water, but most were interested in the set-lists that were taped down on the stage. Different tactics were employed—threats, pleading, professed camaraderie, and even remarkably unsubtle use of the barricade as a push-up bra—but the prospect of seeing Amon Amarth perform from the photo pit (i.e. not getting kicked out) was enough to stay my hand. From the first time I heard the band on record, I’d known they would put on a pummeling show, and with the first chords of ‘Valhall Awaits Me’ they proved it to be true.
Although they did not try to compete with Himsa for pure energy output—indeed, few could—their stage show was no less enthralling. Johan Hegg’s hulking form is the equal of his voice, and the trio of Olavi Mikkonen, Johan Söderberg, and bassist Ted Lundström played a tight chemistry reflective of their years together. Behind his bristling kit, Fredrik Andersson metered out a thundering assault, the twin ‘A’s on his bass drums doubling the shields that hung behind him.
The rest of their set kept pace with their opener, favoring the newest material most heavily but also ranging back to some old classics. In full it ran: ‘Valhall Awaits Me’, ‘With Oden On Our Side’, ‘Death in Fire’, ‘Versus the World’, ‘Asator’, ‘The Sound of Eight Hooves’, ‘Hermod’s Ride to Hel’, ‘Cry of the Blackbirds’, ‘Fate of Norns’, ‘1000 Years of Oppression’, ‘Down the Slopes of Death’, ‘Bleed For Ancient Gods’, ‘Runes to My Memory’, with an encore of ‘Victorious March’, ‘Ancient Sign of a Coming Storm’, and ‘Pursuit of Vikings’ as their final closer.
Any member of the band was an impressive sight to see, but Hegg was an obvious center of attention. Dressed in black with leather bracers on and a drinking horn at his hip, he looked the consummate rock star Viking, and lumbered about the stage narrating ancient tales with his tremendous baritone growl. Although it’s easy to think of him as a gruff and aggressive man, between songs he showed a much more cheery demeanor and smiled at the crowd like a beamish boy after a job well done.
Aside from Hegg, Ted was the most active with the audience as an almost constant presence up front. With one foot up on the monitor at center stage, he would sweep across the crowd with his bass and scowl or mouth the words. The other two guitarists, Söderberg and Olavi, also took their turns at the fore, but more often spent their time standing back with feet spread and heads banging slowly. Sometimes all three would stand together at the center of the stage and rock back and forth in slow unison, or windmill headbang as one with Johan standing in front.
Whatever they did, the audience adored it. There was almost a constant moshpit going on, while those in the front sang along to every chorus and crowd-surfers came in a nearly constant wave like offerings at an altar. Some songs saw as many as 20 people ride to the front of the barricade, and by the end of the night the front rows were looking over their shoulders as often as they looked at the stage.
After the photo pit I managed to weave my way to the front rows, so I was one of those who bore the brunt of the crowd-surfing, which, combined with the sheer number of songs Amon Amarth played, made their set the most arduous I’ve ever seen. The crowd was feeling it, too; most of us were chanting the band’s name before their encore, but I could tell it was with some measure of fatigue and saw more than a couple people stumble out of the pit and collapse into chairs at the bar.
The band accepted their praise graciously, saluting us with their drinking horns and a rousing ‘Skol!’ As they have throughout the tour, they acknowledged the tragic loss of Decapitated’s drummer, Vitek, whose band was to appear on the bill with Amon Amarth. The crowd’s cheers were as loud then as at any other time, with lighters waved during the ‘Fate of Norns’, the song Hegg dedicated to the fallen.
Altogether, it was a masterful performance, leaving us thoroughly satisfied and just as exhausted. Some may say that Amon Amarth are not yet a band of top billing in the States, but they certainly played with as much class and passion as any headliner I’ve seen. On this kind of bill, where Amon Amarth are the only band many will come to see, (particularly without Decapitated’s support) the burden was squarely on their shoulders to satisfy the audience, and that they have undeniably accomplished. Even beyond their performance, the band has also lined up generous meet-and-greet sessions at nearly every show, as if their performance alone wasn’t enough. Indeed, one could only hope for all Viking marauds to be so gratifying.
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