WATAIN
at The Middle East, Cambridge, Massachusetts
5.13.07
Words & Photos by Christopher Thompson

Black metal is known for its extremes in aesthetics and lore. To those just outside of it, black metal is Satanism, it is face paint, it is violence, it is shock, hatred, and fear. And while the heyday of second-wave black metal is 15 years gone, it is still the period that will forever represent the music. No one is willing to really shock anymore. At least, that is what I thought until Watain lead singer E dumped a goblet of genuine pig's blood onto my friend's head.
Settled in the upstairs back room of Cambridge's The Middle East club, the crowd was a particularly pleased bunch. The room was nearly pitch-black, with an oozing red glow from the stage lamps providing the only illumination. Every performer leading up to Watain delivered. Cold Northern Vengeance's folk melodies had everyone wondering their name, Nachtmystium lulled the crowd with their atmospheric guitar layering and freshly-resurrected Angelcorpse led the most unified group headbang I have seen in years.
Watain's leather clad roadie prepared the stage with flags, upside-down crosses, horse-smelling incense and a stack of skinless pig heads. It didn't take a wuss to get nervous standing in front when the band, fully done head-to-toe in smeared paint, metal medallions, leather and blood drizzling from their hair, appeared before the crowd. Each member stood at the front of the stage to agitate the gathered masses. In his hand, E held a clear cup, apparently full of a blood-like substance. What I didn't know, nor did my poor bathed friend, was that it was real blood. I could tell instantly because of the gag-inducing uncooked pork smell. A pool of it collected on the stage before me as the crowd pushed forward. The frontline was forced to brace against the stage to avoid the puddles of disease. I was forced to choose between rocking out or getting some air and maybe rinsing my face. I chose to rock out.
Watain played minus their bass player, named A, who had been barred entry into the country for reasons the band called "limitless law and order idiocy" on their Web site. Front man E filled in the absent bassist's duties with experience. The band's volume did not climb the same decibel heights as Angelcorpse or Nactmystium, but the twin guitars had plenty of definition and an original tone. Their set consisted mostly of material from 2007's Sworn To The Dark. One line from that album's opening track—"I follow the stench"— stood out to me as I held my own next to my blood-drenched brethren. Lines such as "God of death/ Manifest/ God of Doom/ Move and appear," which led the crashing tremolo lines of album closer "Stellarvore," found enthusiastic echo in the crowd.
Two personality-types warred on stage. Front man E and drummer H, who was decked out in a headband and motorcycle vest straight from the 1980s that screamed "Don't forget about me behind the set, guys," came from the Venom and Celtic Frost school of metal. Ostentation at its finest. Both guitarists, on the other hand, were bleak and expressionless statues, blank gazes carved like threats for the crowd's enjoyment. The only interaction I can claim from them was the speckles of pig blood that flew onto my face from their snarling hair.
There was even a bit of earnest emotion in the midst of rockers and fist-pumpers, when they covered a song by the band Dissection, whose lead singer, Jon Nodtveidt, committed suicide last summer, as well as playing "Legions of the Black Light" from the new album, which was written in dedication to Nodtveidt.
To end, the band left without encore and the room vacated, dazed and blood-soaked. My first impulse was to find a sink, but not before I discovered a trampled, ripped and blood-painted King James Bible. A little treasure to take home for mom.