Mayhem – Kings Arms January 23, 2018

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Controversial legends Mayhem exhumed a fetid piece of black metal history last night- and our local talent wasn’t about to be shown up.

Rarely do you see an extreme metal gig completely sell out, and rarely have I seen the King’s Arms so packed so early, crowded before the opening act even took the stage. Of course, last night was a rare kind of night.

No band in black metal commands the sensational legacy that Mayhem does, with the possible exception of Burzum. No single album laid the template for the genre’s second wave, erupting out of Norway surrounded by furor over church burnings, suicide and murder, more than De Mysteriis Dom Sathanas, the record Mayhem were touring in full.

All that is long gone, of course. Mayhem these days are a professional touring band, with the deepest recent controversy being a drummer known to make racist and homophobic comments. Shitty opinions never stopped anyone making brilliant music, though (see also: Dr Dre, Morrissey), and the crowd’s anticipation was completely justified.

The solid crowd of early punters were also there to send off a piece of New Zealand’s own black metal legacy: opening act Anno Domini Mortus, performing their last ever gig after 13 years beloved by the scene.

Sadly, my first and last time witnessing their live show. What a start to the night. This was straight faced, orthodox black metal, performed brilliantly. Most attention was inevitably captured and held by frontman Zekenfraut.

He hunched over the front row shirtless, goblin like, dripping corpse paint and dangling a large inverted cross as he snarled and retched out his vocals. Behind him, his band mates excelled. Musically there was little exactly new here; sinister riffs, blast beats, evil atmosphere.

The band’s true point of difference was in the small details of finesse. The transitions were near unnoticeable. Drummer Xantubis frequently wove in complex snare patterns where lesser drummers would have settled for a uniform blast beat. He and Sattanos on guitars displayed impeccable timing, weaving around each other and dropping into tight, single-beat pauses before returning to the assault. A class act.

Next up were prestigious Auckland act Vassafor. Underground veterans, their latest album Malediction has been garnering international praise, as did their 2012 full length Obsidian Codex.

Deeply impressed by both albums, I was keen to finally catch them live, and they did not disappoint. Far more than a simple aural assault, this is a band that knows how to construct music that is more than the sum of its parts. Dynamic and deliberately orchestrated, these songs built upon themselves, riffs piling on riffs, rhythm building, slackening and building again, each section more satisfying for having emerged from the last. There was no post-metal navel gazing to be found here, though. Slow or fast, build up or crescendo, Vassafor kept it guttural and evil throughout. Plus frontman VK has a sweet custom mic stand with a column of goat skulls.

Finally the time for Mayhem approached. With the crowd at capacity and a decent mosh having already gone down during Vassafor’s set, the atmosphere in the King’s Arms was appropriately hot as Hell.

In a surprising start, the first voice the crowd hears as the atmospheric intro plays is a prerecorded American voice requesting that cell phones be put away in order to preserve the show’s atmosphere. I suppose that’s fair enough for a show that relies heavily on sinister gloom, but for my part the corporate ring of the recording cut through the evil atmosphere far more obtrusively than the glow of cellphone screens.

Most people happily complied, though, and the band took the stage to cheers and the sweaty press of the front rows. Dressed in dark monk’s robes, daubed in corpse paint, the theatrics were immediately impressive, especially frontman Atilla who even today manages to make the traditional dress up look actually horrific.

I spent the first few songs up near the front, where it was all excitement and violence. The extremity of Mayhem’s music can be heard on the album, but it’s entirely another thing live. You could really feel how these first few songs had changed the game, and the relentless speed and uncompromising menace immediately started a pit that was restrained only by the sheer crush of bodies.

After having lost and miraculously recovered a shoe, I retreated to gulp water and watch from further back. The sound quality was clearer there, and I could slow down and appreciate more detail. These songs more than hold up.

Occasionally there was a little bit of Seinfeld Syndrome creeping in, as in, certain tropes that sounded over familiar until you remember that this is the origin of all the imitators. There was a real sense of history in hearing this album live, a backwards looking awe at the 45 minutes or so that led to so much. It was performed impeccably, too, not a note out of place, the tones and delivery perfect. Atilla’s vocals and physical performance were a highlight, his distinct croaking growls and screeches punctuated by slow, sinuous movements and hand gestures, waving around what is by all accounts a real human skull.

Of course, De Mysteriis Dom Sathanas, for all its prestige, is not a long album, and it felt Mayhem were there and gone all too soon. But they left behind a crowd looking exhausted, a little shell shocked, and very very happy.

Cameron Miller

Click on any image to view a photo gallery by Nikki Clendinning:

 

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