Reviewed on Saturday September 5
The last-minute decision to relocate this show from Manning Bar to Hermann’s across the road seemed like a decidedly wise one. After the stories I had heard from friends about having to leave A Place To Bury Strangers shows in small venues for fear of vomiting, passing out or going temporarily blind from the sheer volume they play at, I was skeptical about the idea of having this kind of experience in a space as forgiving as Manning Bar.
Instead, we were treated to a more intimate space and Hermann’s unwittingly became the crucible for one of the strangest shows I’ve been to in a long time. It started out pretty normal, Narrow Lands kicking things off witha crushing set. Live, their bass player thrived, playing the loudest onstage and seemingly even leading the group at times.
Flyying Colours had the enviable position of supporting A Place To Bury Strangers on all their tour dates, and were a pleasant enough break from the harrowing noise that had passed and was sure to follow. I’m sure it was the first time you could say Flyying Colours were the quietest group of the night.
This was the point at which things started to get weird. About five songs into A Place To Bury Strangers’ set I made a quick trip to the bathroom and noticed that the fire alarm had been triggered. I dismissed it as deliberately set off by someone, because ‘ha ha wouldn’t it be funny if the noise rock band with the fog machine set off the fire alarm’, and promptly returned to the floor. Another couple of minutes into the set and suddenly the lights were on, the fog machine was off and we were all filing outside.
It didn’t put much of a dampener on the night so much as it felt like part and parcel of their being in town. Ten minutes later we were all back inside. APTBS were playing without a fog machine this time, and despite getting the feeling they perhaps felt a bit naked without it, we were treated to a fantastic second half. The main set closed with ‘I Lived My Life To Stand In The Shadow Of Your Heart’, and at the apex of the song, Oliver Ackermann, kneeling in front of his discarded guitar, placed a strobe light on top of his fretboard and bashed it repeatedly, creating what sounded like church bells. This, among a litany of other sadistic guitar rituals, carried on a while longer, before the band returned to the back of the room, instruments in hand, to where a drum machine and microphone had been set up for an impromptu floor performance. It was wild.
It is safe to assume that a guy who designs his own effects pedals is going to get the exact sound he wants out of a room, and with the exception of the mid-set evacuation, what he got sounded fantastic. I can’t recommend their live show enough.
