review by: Roberto Martinelli
Being new to the Chicago area, it was my first time visiting the famous House of Blues. It was odd to see a metal show at a place such as this. I guess this was because of how I had been conditioned to not only expect a divey and intimate venue for a metal show, but to feel strange if the locale were any different. Well, the air conditioning was a welcome difference, but it felt a little odd at first being in a large room whose layout and décor looked like a gaudy version of a night at the opera meets Shakespeare's The Globe theater. Looking over the large ground floor was a balcony that was open to regular ticket holders. Flanking this balcony were VIP boxes, the exclusive kind that you see at the ballet filled with tuxedoed men and poofy Renaissance dress wearing women using those obnoxious binocular-on-a-stick devices.
Another important difference was the show start time. Whereas metal shows at bars generally start at least 45 minutes later than billed in order for the bar to sell more drinks, this show started on the button at 6:30. This meant that by the time we got there, Bon and I had missed all but one minute of God Forbid's set. This was a shame, as I was liked God Forbid's latest album, Determination, and was looking forward to see them. What I did hear of their set sounded great.
The heavy crimson curtains closed (yes, curtains at a metal show!), giving us some time to scope the place out and determine where we could best see Nile. Being a show headlined by Cradle of Filth, it wasn't surprising to see the numbers of attractive, teenage, somewhat-goth girls in attendance. Although Nile were cheered, Cradle of Filth were undoubtedly who the majority of the crowd came to see.
The testing of the triggered drums signaled that Nile was about to begin their set, but not before the playing of a canned message saying something to the effect of how moshing, stagediving and crowdsurfing weren't permitted and anybody doing so would be kicked out. The message was repeated in Spanish, and the crowd snickered.
The curtain opened and Nile began their punishing set. If you didn't know, Nile has lost half of its original members. Nile's superb drummer has been replaced by the godly Tony Laureano (saluting the crowd, right), who plays on Angel Corpse's final album, The Inexorable. Original bassist/vocalist Chief Spires is also gone, being replaced by a short, powerful guy whom I didn't recognize. Someone later said he was from a band called Dark Moon, or something. The show was a very tame one as no mosh pits formed. Stage diving was practically impossible as access to the high stage was well guarded by burly security guys. Although cameras were off-limits, I managed to snap some shots off before I was told to stop.
What could you expect from Nile? They delivered an excellent show of light speed death metal off of their two full-length albums. Songs such as "Ramses, Bringer of War" and "The Howling of the Jinn" (from the first album) and newer songs like "Black Seeds of Vengeance" and "Chapter for Transforming into a Snake" were unmistakable. I would have like to have heard "Masturbating the War God," which is my favorite track off of the band's latest album, Black Seeds of Vengeance. Laureano moved from tom to tom and back to the snare faster than my eye could follow, and even a death metal virgin such as Bon was impressed by the two guitarists' wizardry (Dallas Toler-Wade pictured at left). Even though I didn't care for the blatant bass trigger sound, it was cool to hear the band using the same crypt thing-like effects on some of their vocals.
When Nile left the stage, I knew the evening's entertainment was basically over. Still, I decided to give Cradle of Filth a chance. The canned warning was again played, and the curtains opened. The emergence of frontman Dani Filth got a big rise out of the audience, and Cradle began its awful set of false black metal. The show was boring, and the poor sound didn't help one bit. Although being the star, Dani's vocals were buried below the bass and drums, and all that was properly audible were his obnoxious eagle shrieks. As Dani must do these high vocals with two hands on the mic at a foot's distance from his face, it was sort of humorous to watch him alternate between the lower, mic-held-closely one hand vocals and the wanky, two-handed ones in a part where the verses alternated between the two styles. Near the back of stage right was a fat, costume ball mask-wearing opera chick whose job seemed to primarily consist of being wallpaper that occasionally emitted a generic operatic "ahhh." While Cradle ran through its simple-minded songs, a dancer flopped about, doing her best to move to the eminently non-danceable sounds of the band. I suppose that under the circumstances she did the most appropriate dance, namely the would-be seductive spider temptress routine with occasional leg kick. A fucking dancer, fer Chrissakes. At a set that bills itself as black metal.
Staying any longer would have hurt the fragile, lingering glow of my Nile experience. Bon thought Cradle of Filth sucked, too, so we hastily retreated from this den of abhorrent black metal falseness, leaving Cradle to the loving, googly-eyed kids doing their best to seem evil and extreme. In retrospect, playing at House of Blues may have been odd for Nile, but it was a perfect venue for the gaudy Cradle of Filth.
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