The Spark Came Late

The Hall. A building designed from the ground up for events and live music. You would expect the sound to be outstanding. But when you ask people about it, they usually shake their heads. Too quiet, and the further back you are, the worse it gets.

I couldn’t really judge that before this evening, because after the opening ceremony in 2017, I miraculously never found myself there again.

This evening, a proper thrashing was on the cards: Humanity’s Last Breath. Shadow of Intent. Whitechapel. Lorna Shore. Four times deathcore in all its dystopian facets. A line-up that promised total escalation from the very first note.

But that’s not how it turned out—quite the opposite, in fact. Humanity’s Last Breath gave it their all; they were a hellish machine that briefly went full throttle, only to slam on the handbrake and veer into the next breakdown. A technical staccato. But the audience remained almost apathetic.

Maybe people just aren’t really in the mood at 6 p.m. And less than an hour later, the more melodic Shadow of Intent didn’t have it much easier. Hardly any mosh pits formed to their fast hammering. Or was it the sound? It seemed as if the energy wasn’t coming across properly. No spark flew. It was as if there was an invisible filter between the stage and the audience, sucking out all the emotion. Clean sound is great, but maybe sometimes it’s okay to let it rattle when conveying emotion.

I felt sorry for Ben Duerr and his fellow musicians as they struggled and looked at the unmoved crowd, half in despair, half in disbelief.

With Whitechapel, you could feel that the thankless slots were a thing of the past. The Swiss slowly thawed. And finally, you could feel your own body vibrating with the bass from time to time. But for my taste, it was a bit too much dull stomping in a flurry of flashbulbs.

Shortly before 9 p.m., the mood shifted into euphoria. Bonnie Tyler’s Total Eclipse of the Heart heralded the climax. With a bang, the banner in front of the stage fell, and there stood Lorna Shore on a multi-storey stage made of LED walls, immediately launching into Oblivion.

Since signing singer Will Ramos and releasing the single To The Hellfire, the New Jersey band, founded in 2010, has enjoyed an unprecedented triumphant march to the top of the metal world. Ramos’ guttural antics in the epically long hell hymns are always in the spotlight.

With hot pyrotechnics and gripping visuals on the screens, they demonstrated that even in oh-so-true metal, it’s all about good entertainment. Or in their case: grandiose entertainment.