BLOODY PANDA, OCEAN, CONIFER
The Middle East, Cambridge, MA
WORDS & PHOTOS: Christopher Thompson
August 27, 2007

Meditation can do wonders for some people. In the book store, just a block away from Cambridge's Middle East, a sign-up list was posted containing information about next month's guided meditation meetings. It was half full with various signatures, and I almost looked for my mother's penmanship style; this is the kind of thing would love to do. It could be relaxing, but intense and revealing at the same time; the kind of experience some people look for in new age book stores. I personally choose doom metal for my inner revelations.

In front of group of 30 or so, Brooklyn's Bloody Panda began their set by walking out from behind a curtain. All musicians save singer Yoshiko O'Hara were cloaked in executioner-style hoods, with keyboardist Blake McDowell sporting a matching robe. The band began with a solitary guitar crunch, and in the greatest doom tradition, gored each spiked note that followed with the focus and emphasis of a striding brontosaurus. O'Hara substituted her own hair for her absent hood, keeping her face pointed to the floor the entire show like some macabre mockery of a shoegaze band.

Watching their energetic movements, the compositions pulled from their latest offering, Pheromone, seemed to shed their abstractions and step into a more accessible and charged reality. Much of the crowd grooved along with the band as well, with the tempting church organ dirge double-grabbing us by the throat and balls.

Ocean next, using the same general equipment, quickly grabbed the stage. Probably more then any other style of metal, doom resides lot in the power of dynamics. The growth of a clean and gentle guitar line in to a train crashing into the sea. From Portland, Maine, Ocean is a band that gives itself full room to grow. Their only full length release is an album of three songs clocking in over an hour. On stage the members exhibited a methodical demeanor. The songs start, and stay, slow, only rarely reaching and sort of heights, and never repeating these mini-climaxes. Their tones and sense of weight recall Neurosis at their heaviest. This means long psychedelic studies of amplifier timbre, and they present it at its most serious and forlorn. Though mostly instrumental, vocalist Candy exhibited a growling control of intensity even at whisper levels. For the half hour or 45 minutes they performed the band did not stop playing for a single moment. The entire set, which I imagine was two songs, of constant unending dooooom.

Last up was Conifer. They are the band I have heard the least about their headlining the show surprised me when I walked into the club. They are from Maine and play a psychedelic style doom metal that leans more to rock side of things rather then Ocean's absolute heaviness. Using the same equipment as everyone else that night, they re-worked the stage to form the band into a circle. Drummer Nate Nadeau had his back to the audience, and bass man Sean Hadley took his position at rear of the stage. It is a setup you would see for maybe a practice session or a jam band working off each other to create something improvised. This little detail of detectable communication made their performance all the more exciting. The band announced that all of songs they were playing were fresh tunes right off their yet-unreleased LP. Candy from Ocean added additional vocals for the first two. These songs were exciting, and marked complex guitar weaving and fast riffs. When the band exploded into their big post-rock-like climaxes, guitarist Leif Curtis bounced around in an energetic fit in attempts to embody his music. Not that I would advise such a thing.

Word, bitches.