An inconceivably-heavy night; one spent journeying across the broad and powerful spectrum of doom-metal’s labyrinthine halls.

Words: Brady Irwin

Photography: Richie Black

Site: https://www.richieblackphotography.com/

IG: @richie_black_photography

Email: info@richieblackphotography.com.au

On an otherwise unassuming and rainy night in the forever-temperamental climbs of Melbourne, our relatively quiet cityscape had no idea a monster lurked in the bowels of a certain venue, within. Set to be rocked by an earth-shattering barrage of doom metal from a number of monstrous leviathans, and none the wiser!

As is often the way with your usual summer-time action-movie tropes, things were pensively quiet but anticipatory as punters filtered in from the minute doors opened. Slowly, but surely - apart from an anxious cohort of folks veering immediately to a venue-wide conga-line for some of the delectable merch on offer. Naturally.

With a wry grin, myself and some fellow Melbourne mosh-compatriots sidled through towards the sparse polyhedral-pit-and-stairs configuration of the floor, magnetically drawn towards the barrier in eager anticipation.

I just knew relative newcomers to the live scene in openers Ghostsmoker would catch a number of folks unaware. Having had the opportunity to speak with Ben Astbury and Nathan Brunning earlier this week on our Youtube Channel + podcast (link here!) and being privy firsthand to an advance copy of Ghostsmoker’s gut-poundingly-heavy LP Inertia Cult (thanks very much to both artist and Lachlan Dale of Art as Catharsis for said opportunity!) At that, I was comfortable in the foreknowledge these caustic local upstarts wouldn’t disappoint, either.

I might be broke right now & not a betting man, but I was/am confident in this as a safe wager.

Seems then, that I should’ve slammed a few imaginary shekels down on the non-existent TAB of gig-hypotheticals, because… well, damn.

Sure enough, as the downtuned gristle and snark of opening track from said LP rang out, the ensuing sonic shockwave was met with cheerful surprise and alarm from an immediately receptive audience.

Plying a brand of blackened sludge/doom that hearkens to both stage-mates Conan but also the nastier end of the doom continuum a-la Indian, Khanate and the like, the guttural screeches of Nathan’s vocal attack met with Ben Astbury’s tectonic down-tuned riffage on the six-string. And I mean tectonic, like, sub-mantle level! Melding seamlessly into the powerful thundering booms of Rhys Brennan (bass) and Brayden Becher’s (drums) alchemical cocktail of subterranean fury, the band were quick to return the whole-body pivots and swivels employed by an appreciative audience.

Encircling one another, standing worshipful at the helm of the kit and firing off sheets of caustic tremolo, palm-muted chug and post-metal flavoured interludes, there was a magnificant push-pull between tension and release throughout. You know an opening acts’ made an impression when the whole audience is silent through Ben’s very 90’s-coded, reverb-heavy arpeggiated interludes. This juxtaposed nicely with the raucous applause returned in kind to the bristling head-bang-and-horns-worthy segue into ‘Incarnate’, launched straight off the back of a breakdown that’d send scene-kids the world over home to Google whether Z Standard is a real tuning.

Wrapping up proceedings in a scathing mix of screams, hushed spoken-word and piercing feedback, Ghostsmoker established themselves as a furious act to keep tabs on.

Walking out for some fresh air, the commentary from those around me was already at fever-pitch. The anticipation of the gig met by the first band alone, the conversational miasma drifted between “I’m so seeing those fucking guys again, holy shit” to unanimous excitement about an established death-doom institution queued up for seconds.

*Lift Your Doomy Fingers Like Antennas To Heaven! Credit:* ***Richie Black*** *(links up top of article).*

Gigging at a mad frequency akin to your average #grindset social-media-hustler’s brag-posting, Mammon’s Throne have finely crafted their old school death metal-informed doom-assault on many occasions within the Melbourne scene. Both historically, and especially of late, they’re an omnipresent entity on many extreme metal bills. Tonight, we received a clear rationale as to why.

Striding confidently onstage, fists and horns pumped, from the first riff-barrage onwards it was clear vocalist Matthew Miller sought to waste no time. Launching into an almost spherical arc of motion alongside bandmates Amesh Prarera (lead guitar), Johnny Chamas (guitar) and Sam Tablot-Cannon (bass), with artilleryman Nick Boschan laying the double-kick chest-punches behind the kit. Flailing like men possessed, Mammon’s were clearly keen to provide ample warm-up to the international accompaniment later on.

Eerie, 80’s horror-shlock style synth backing buffering pained on the cusp of the first track, an already raucous and well-attuned crowd jeering howls of appreciation. This Carpenter-esque lull was punctuated with the briefest of a brief greetings to the venue, prior to announcing ‘Return Us To The Stars’. Hoots of recognition were quickly replaced with syncopated headbanging pit-side. As much as eager barrier-side rubbernecks tried, they seemed almost no match for the whirling gyration of a band giving a high-energy stage homage to the doom-metal gods.

Running a gamut that meandered through blackened tremolo picking, virtuoso shred, meat-head breakdowns and even some baritone single-string riffage from a Flying V, Mammon’s kept a frantic pace and intensity that I’d daresay was some of their most animated yet.

Book-ending their penultimate number with a brief interlude and feedback-drenched noise, everyone in the room was aware just how on-like-Donkey-Kong it was for the gang-chanted refrains of “Nosferatu!” and “Drink the blood! Drink the blood!” were met with fist-pumps and aplomb from us eager riff-addicts.

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Just some more Mammon’s Throne snaps from our friend Richie.

Again, be sure to check his socials/links for even more visual goodies!

*Man is* literally a ‘Hawk As A Weapon’.

Having had a decent battering via our support acts having just expertly razed a wide swathe across the doom-metal dimension, it was time for the truly fiercest act on the bill. A foundational refinement back to the purest, most primal and raw iteration of doom-metal anyone can hope to see live - Conan.

Okay, look. I have to say it before we get into more specific details, it’s just got to come out of me. I was only ever going to go on this brief but necessary tangent for a paragraph or so, anyway:

There are very, very few bands on the planet that can achieve such an incomprehensible, galaxy-sized scale of pure sonic output with just three members. To see this band live, is to be knuckle-dragged down into the purest, most refined raw ichor of the heavy metal canon. With no hesitation, were I to be asked to direct someone to the best example of metal’s raw, barbaric potential in one stage-show? It’s Conan, as first pick.

All. The. Way.

Pre-empting another dosage of skull-crushing savagery from my last live experience with them (i.e. with Bell Witch in those Before-Times pre-COVID), I threw the metaphorical arms-folded distal posturing and got as close as possible. There was nothing else for it; I’d just be throwing anywhere else out of whack with the unrestrained animal ready to burst out of me like a Xenomorph. The ambient temperature in the room was much the same - seasoned punters and newbies alike mutually sensed the sheer metal in the air as we began.

Comprising just three members, The [[Loudest Freaking Band Ever]] doled out walls of riffage of a size that felt seismic and beyond measure by standing above-ground, less alone anywhere but miles under the Earth’s crust.

Lurching forth from this dense plane of origin, Jon Davis’ vocals pierced through the impenetrable veil of distortion and fuzz, his punishing guitar-work complemented by the infathomable booming clack of David Rydley’s gargantuan bass-lines. Atop this, marching like a pack of enraged war elephants was the lock-step stomp of Johnny King’s drumming, a perfect blend of burst-fire gunnery fills/rolls and militaristic, sniper-like precision.

Opening with the slow-burn accompanying ‘Equilibrium of Mankind’, the house-sized crash hits and neolithic chugs quickly encouraged a feverish pit. Hypnotically swaying and writhing like men possessed, there was some punctuation of effects-drenched feverish chord-slamming throughout ‘Prospect on The Path’ and ‘Hawk as Weapon’.

That said, such moments were but fleeting glimpses of lucidity outside of the outright mass-hypnosis that these Liverpudlian giants commanded of each vertebrae attached to every member of the audience. No, seriously. You have to experience a Conan set to get what I mean. Sure, I was eagerly head-banging with my entire body, and copped a few songs’ worth of near-death in the demolition-derby (oh, sorry, ‘pit’ I guess), but I also felt entranced and compelled to do so. Pulled by an otherworldly, primal force of the Far Planes both willingly, forcibly and without question.

Things only intensified as the set progressed - from the bruising rawness of recent single ‘Desolation Hexx’ to ‘Satsumo’, ‘Levitation Hex’ (this writer’s personal peak of the entire evening, and an excuse to really go FULL Neanderthal) and ‘Ritual Anonymity’, to the sudden, neck-jerk up-tempo blasting of ‘Volt Thrower’, the entire scene was a blur of heads barely lifted long enough to catch the band before bowing in staccato unison.

Spellbound, bewildered and exhausted, I clambered up the stairs at Watt’s physically shaken by the pure kinetic output of basically-the-heaviest-band-ever’s Kardashev-scaled sonic output.

“I AM THE UNBORN SON (Of The Unborn SON!)”

— Me, days later, screaming 'Levitation Hoax'to pretty much everyone around me.

It’s at this stage I’m nearing overload. Overwhelmed by multiple lashings of continent-sized doom-metal power, it was time to ascend the stairs and gather my senses.

Similar bug-eyed looks of bewilderment surrounded me as faithful devotees and first-timers alike tried to verbally and psychologically dissect exactly what they’ve witnessed thus far tonight.

Wandering back into the venue in time for the warm, deft and expansive wash of the psychedelic/prog-inflected harmonies of US-based doom-headliners Pallbearer, my fears were allayed.

Well… mostly.

See, as the clean tones of ‘Silver Wings’ rang like a songbird across the venue’s expanse, it wasn’t long before the trademark duel-lead attack of Brett Campbell (guitar/vocals) and Devin Holt (guitars) pre-empted the first of many sharply-contrasted, beefy walls of riffage. Aided by the serpentine flourishes (and high-intensity stage presence!) of bassist Joseph Rowland, the cavernous plods and subtle fills of Mark Lierly (drums) helped punctuate the powerful, almost operatic single/harmonised melodic vocals with a serious amount of heft.

Providing some humility in assuring the audience “we’re not even going to try out-heavy-ing Conan”, Brett nevertheless launched a solid and atmospheric belter of a vocal performance in follow-up ‘Signals’.

Honestly? I was expecting a lot of the crustier doom-metal contingent to have bailed right after Conan. However it was clear that the overwhelming majority of those in attendance made a deliberate effort to ensure a full spread of doom charcuterie on their platters. With a skilful plying of fretted intermingling matched with such passionate fervour, it was only natural to keep ourselves squarely planted in awe at the celestial, harmonic melodies supplanted by crushing riff-crescendos.

Possibly goose-stepping some expectations after the very Opeth - Damnation styled replenishing aura of the prior track, the march towards a funereal doom stomp in ‘With Disease’ around the latter half saw the pit reopen in appreciation. Where Conan and kin focussed on employing a bruising, down-tuned miasma, the soaring vocal and lead harmonies snaked out between thicker chord progressions like proggy trad-metal sunbeams.

The rapturous effect of such a clean and methodical overall dimension to their stage sound (props to the engineers on tonight by the way - all bands were crisp as hell!) had, similar to the almost Lovecraftian pull of headbanging prior, wrought an audience-wide harmonic choir where the refrains of ‘Worlds Apart’ was concerned.

Funny side note - I don't think I’ve seen many band where the bassist takes such a typically staunch capital-r Rocker pose, whilst a guitarist is off to their left looking like Victor Wooten deep in the bass pocket. Brett himself showed little signs of stillness, throwing all of his frontman self into wild swings as the limbs of Lierly’s punching hits flailed behind him.

Announcing “an old one” that really squeezed the caloric lemon out of our bodies, ‘Devoid of Redemption’ was met with stunned silence following a booming send-off from punters. Helping amp up the requisite “One more song!” chant, the band expressed their appreciation and support before kicking into a final attack on the up-tempo salutation with ‘Thorns’. Meandering bass, blazing solos, thundering drumming and lead flourishes made this punchier number a fantastic closer to a night exemplary of a doom-metal spectacle from start to finish.

I’ve got a strong sense that not only was there something for everyone irrespective of their personal doom sub-genre leanings, but also that tonight was full of unexpected and positive surprises across the board. A true demonstration of the creative prowess and sheer, unadulterated power one of metal’s most tried-and-true genres, Pallbearer and co. have set a very high standard for doom on the live front for Australia this year.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go scream “I AM THE UNBORN SON (OF THE UNBORN SON)!” at passers-by until the nice men in white coats ask me to accompany them.

For those of you eager to experience a similar ceremonial blitzkrieg of doom elsewhere in Australia, check out the tour details, ticket links etc alongside our pre-tour interview with Brett Campbell. (LINK HERE).

LINKS FOR TICKETS - SYDNEY/BRISBANE DATES. DO NOT MISS THIS:

Friday 14 March // Crowbar, Sydney

Saturday 15 March // Crowbar, Brisbane

Tickets & info via United Front Touring www.unitedfront.com.au