REGURGITATE
at The Living Room, RI
6.5.07
Words and Photos by Christopher Thompson

Walking into the Living Room in Providence, RI, it seems like a normal crowd to expect from a grind show: young bearded ruffians trying to look too worn for their ages and art school girls from the Rhode Island School of Design, which would probably seem abnormal anywhere outside Providence. (And although they danced like girls, I have to give them credit: if they were the trend-sters I had made them out to be, they sure picked a legit act to come and act stupid at.) The local opening bands were appropriate and enthusiastic; Suffering Bastard played on the floor, among the people. Their grind/doom tempos switched liberally as the lead vocalist walked through the crowd holding a large stick threateningly, while their two bassists created a graceful mess of volume. Fourhorse continued the tradition of double bassists, and their sound emphasized the fuzz. They dished out extra-abrasive rock and roll, very reminiscent of rising local act Doom Riders. The next band, Saint Jude, must be some new Providence super group I haven't heard of before; with members of Sin of Angels and the former Nightmare Begins, they were much better than the female-led touring act, Fuck The Facts, who were only boringly competent. The most enjoyable aspect of their show was that they put their horns(!) in the air and exclaimed "cheers guys!" after every song.

Regurgitate looked the most legitimate, with ass-length hair and a good ten years on everyone else. They expertly recreated the sound of last year's Sickening Bliss, staying fresh by avoiding stale pitfalls of angst typical to the genre, and even adding the digitally-altered vocals from the record. Though each band member was totally in their own world on stage, shrouded with hair, their songs were as tight as you can get.

Were I a better man, I would be able to tell you what was on the hour-long set list. As it is, all I know is that they must have played about 40 songs. I could only recognize, at best, which album they came from. They focused heavily on new material, with some of their oldest tracks also making an appearance. Every 30-second capsule of grind hit with its own personality, and you could detect a change in character of the crowd from song to song. The guitars were crunchy but clear as Urban Skytt jumped from hyper-speed old-school thrash/hardcore patterns to Entombed-style death metal drones and down tempo blues lines.

In between songs a broken speaker hum maintained an off noise which seemed to take the place of stage banter. For most of the performance vocalist Rikard Janssen, channeling what could only be personal demons to fuel his screams, gripped at his chest and hair as if he was trying to physically pull the pain put of him. Depending on his volatile demeanor, any given song could assume either a satisfying or disturbing character. The rest of the band offset Janssen, coming across like a friendly bunch indeed: giving cheers, making self mocking metal faces and promoting a little town-to-town rivalry regarding how hard neighboring cities can mosh. And Providence proved...not that hard.