What stately surroundings to celebrate the grand conjurors of extreme metal’s 20^th anniversary! As the ever sardonic Mikael Åkerfeldt so gleefully pointed out, they are probably the most extreme band ever to play there, and almost certainly the first band to call their audience “c*nts” in this regal auditorium. A night of firsts then, for this was the fist time Opeth’s seminal Blackwater Park in its entirety on British soil.

The biggest UK show they’ve ever played, it wasn’t sold out, a fact for which I for one was thankful, as it resulted in my crappy seat situated where the air is thinner and sound crapper being upgraded to a prime location in the stalls right behind the sound desk. The venue certainly felt pretty full as the house lights went down and Opeth embarked on a marathon 3 hours set (with 20 minutes interval).

This was a game of two halves – first, the revisiting of that landmark album. A turning point for the band and perhaps for extreme metal as a whole, Blackwater Park is rendered here pretty much note perfect save for a lounge rendition of Harvest. The only real surprise is that Åkerfeldt remained uncharacteristically silent, eschewing all stage banter, and let the music do the talking. Opeth’s music is nothing if not consistent and although Blackwater Park may stand out of their distinguished back catalogue, it’s by no means overshadows the rest in a way that, say, Rust in Peace (recently also played live in its entirety) does with Megadeth’s. Placed by many as one of best albums so far this century, it plays out like a bludgeoning yet beautiful mass, but in the context of the second half clearly feels like a celebration of the legend that is Opeth rather than Blackwater Park itself.

So 20 minutes to take a breather – quickly shuffle out to neck a 4 quid bottle of beer (no drinks in the auditorium!) – then back for the ‘mystery’ second half. Most of the audience would have guessed the direction of the remainder of the set as soon as Opeth started playing debut album Orchid’s Forest of October – a song off of every album (save Blackwater Park) played in chronological order. Unlike the first half, Åkerfeldt wasn’t about to stay silent and as he took us on a guided tour of the bands history. The singer’s stage banter is by now legendary and formed the very back bone of the second half. Spurred on by the regal surroundings he was at his most irreverent and blasphemous. Quite understandably, Mikael and team are glad to be here, but it was no easy road as Åkerfeldt talked us through tales of poverty, constant lineup changes and love embraces with Porcupine Tree’s Steven Wilson. OK, so this is no Confessions of Motley Crue, but it’s the way you tell them eh?

Opeth are precision musicians. Every note, beat and roar is delivered with surgical precision. The Albert Hall was made to have music, in all it’s subtle and complex forms, played in it, so predictably the sound was crystal clear – the feeble sound of the rapturous audience almost lost in the cavernous acoustics. But somehow Mikel and crew managed to make this enormous shrine to music feel intimate – more like a comedy club than an 8000 capacity theatre.

Second half playlist:

1. Forest of October (Orchid)
2. Advent (Morningrise)
3. April Ethereal (My Arms Your Hearse)
4. The Moor (Still Life)
5. Wreath (Deliverance)
6. Hope Leaves (Damnation)
7. Reverie/Harlequin Forest (Ghost Reveries)
8. The Lotus Eater (Watershed)

This half of the show was dubbed Evolution XX which implies a great change, but although Opeth have certainly progressed through these two decades, there’s no sense here of a band ascending from base, primitive or naïve beginnings to a majestic prime. Earlier tracks may have less bombast than their more recent counterparts, but these tracks form a coherent continuum that coexist to the point that they would happily sit on the same album. Opeth’s career, in many fans’ eyes, is bisected by a singly album – Still Life – your preference (or exclusive patronage) exists for one half, or the other. But I challenge anyone listening to this set to claim that Opeth are not one of the most consistently brilliant bands on the planet.

A celebration indeed – of Opeth, of metal, of guitars and drums and noise and all things that are good in the world.

Sunn O))) and Om are two extreme (and very distinct) interpretations of the doom/stoner genre. Both contain members from very distinguished doom/stoner bands (Goatsnake/Khanate/Thorr’s Hammer & Sleep respectively). Sorry to state the obvious, but this seems appropriate given the crowd that have turned up to this gig, at this one of the trendiest of London venues, seem largely oblivious to this fact. Instead of the usual gnarled, bearded and blackened misfits (who are here but lurking ominously in the shadows wielding the claw of doom) I am surrounded by NME kids (‘good’ hair aplenty) and art school ATP fops (more ‘good’ hair, but with stupid hats and glasses too). The fact that Sunn O))) have become ‘trendy’ is one that I was largely oblivious to until now, but the ‘lambs to the slaughter’ atmosphere it lends to the evening makes it feel perfectly appropriate.

Om seem totally out of place in this largish, bright venue, and struggle to really get out of the starting blocks. The mix is all over the place particularly with the drums, which instead of underpinning Cisneros’s hypnotic bass sound more like someone was cooking popcorn somewhere out back. The addition of a crazy ascetic frantically wafting a tambourine and providing multi-instrumentalism accompanied by intermittent, semi-tuneful pig squeals does nothing to elevate this muted performance. I’ve never seen Om live but I always imagined that they belong in a small, dark auditorium with the bass turned up to 12, where the crowd shuts up, closes their eyes and saturates in the cosmic vibes. Wrong place, wrong crowd for Om then.

Any worries that Sunn O))) would befall the same fate are soon dispelled. A good 10 minutes of solid, bone rattling guitar/bass drone from the robed duo have the trendy kids looking decidedly confused and perturbed, but this is mere whimsy compared to what is to come.

Sunn O))) have essentially taken the doom and black metal aesthetics and turned them into minimalist performance art. On record they are interesting, but it’s impossible to really appreciate the truly malign spectacle that it is supposed to convey. If you want to experience this at home, then turn the stereo up full blast, switch off all the lights, set light to the sofa and then invite a serial killer in to join the party.

As the dense smoke (or perhaps funeral fog) billows across the stage you catch fleeting glimpses of messrs Anderson and O’Malley – dark spectres in ceremonial garb, statue-like but somehow frantic and intense. Towering in front the harrowing master of ceremonies Attila (a renowned black metal vocalist by the way NME kids) is imposing as he narrates our demise. Illuminated from below by a green haze, his snakelike hands signal dark semaphore while his terrifying growl threatens to bring the roof crashing in on us. For a period of a cappella snarling and chanting his magnificent voice tears through the crowd leaving those of good hair looking terrified and the rest of us awed.

As the drone returns and intensifies, Attila writhes, wraithlike in a column of thick smoke and green haze – smoke pours out from the arms and face aperture of his robe making for a truly ominous spectacle. By now the auditorium is thick with smoke and the view across the hypnotised heads of the crowd is like tombstones in cemetery mist.

Attila leaves Anderson and O’Malley to worry the foundations (and the indie kids) for a deafening while before returning in a multi-coloured, metallic, spiky suit. Like an evil technicolor dreamcoat, lasers shoot from his fists piercing the gloom to magnificent effect. The insane chanting and osteoporosis inducing noise finally builds to a pounding finale that’s both frightening and elating.

Sunn O))) gigs are not an occasion to guzzle beer, punch the air and sing along. They’re all about the intimidating atmosphere and earth shattering noise. At times it was a little tedious and laboured but the sheer majestic perversity of it all just keeps dragging you in to Sunn O))) nightmarish world, and oh what a wonderful world!

Some bands are amazing on record, but can’t pull it off live while others are spectacular live, but don’t manage to capture this magic on record. Electric Wizard tend towards the latter category – somehow their bass laden, toxic cacophony never packs the punch it should on record. Live, on the other hand, they’re simply stunning.

Last night’s double dose of doom begun with label-mates Blood Ceremony from Canada. Basically Sabbath, if you swapped Tony Iommi with a flautist and Ozzy with a fit bird, they played an entertaining set of old school psychedelic doom. Singer Alia O’Brien dominates proceedings with her sultry pagan chants and multi-instrumentalism, although the band deliver some convincing old school noise, albeit with some Jethro Tull style jazzy flute. Blood Ceremony delivered a great performance, and the crowd really seemed to appreciate it, but it would be difficult to not be somewhat squished by what came next.

Electric Wizard don’t play live very often, and it’s not hard to see why. This short set of bludgeoning noise is delivered with immense amount of energy and conviction – with portly singer/guitarist Justin Oborn playing like his life depended on it and the commanding presence of sumptuous second guitarist Liz Buckingham adding a touch of class to the overall sweaty dingefest. Their music, hernia inducing on record, really comes alive on stage, and wow, that bass – I think it may have triggered the onset of osteoporosis for those in this little hall. The noise these guys create with their instruments is magnificent – the feedback they generate alone is worth turning up to hear – and where they can sometimes be ponderous on record, I found myself wishing these songs wouldn’t end.

This is a pretty big venue for the Wizard, but they dominated it like a band used to arenas. Strangely, the Scala is well lit, which  distracted from the overall ambience, and the folks enjoying the show the most were doing so with their eyes closed. The show ended after a hour and a quarter with (apparently typicaly) no encore – with the amount of energy they put into their performance it’s not hard to see why. Being left wanting more is better than being bored shitless, and although I left feeling slightly short changed, it’s hard to complain after seeing such an awesome show.

Never having seen the Wizard live before, they provided an amusing, but not essential, diversion on record, but having seen this show you now find me a convert. All hail the Wizard!

If I had to sum up my thoughts on last night’s Mastodon gig at the O2 Islington Academy in less than 5 words, they would be “It is not cool”. Allow me to elaborate.

Mastodon't

When Iron Maiden, touring to promote their (admittedly excellent) album A Matter of Life and Death they played the whole album, note for note, in its entirety from the beginning of the gig. That was not cool. However, in the fullness of time we forgave the Maiden their misdemeanor as, as they rightly put it, they had earned the right, after 2 and a half decades, to play their prized and critically acclaimed new album from start to finish live, should they so wish. Or to put it another way “we are Iron Maiden, and we can do what we want, so f*ck off!”. Fair enough as they did conclude the gig with some time honoured classics, but it still spoilt my enjoyment of the gig.

When The Mars Volta did the same thing, on their debut tour, celebrating their debut album, it was also not cool. But in fullness of time we learned to forgive them as, at that point it was the only material that they had ever recorded. They could have jumbled up the order a bit to make things a bit more exciting, but Deloused in the Comatorium was a concept album which threads a narrative, so playing it out of order would have seemed a little strange.  Fair enough, and the quivering afros did enhance the entertainment value somewhat.

When Metallica chose to perform their seminal album Master Of Puppets (1986) while on tour in 2008, this was cool. This album had earned its right to be performed in its entirety live. I would have killed to have seen that.

When, last night, Mastodon decided it would be appropriate to perform their (admittedly excellent) album Crack in the Skye in its entirety (I can only assume as I left half way through track 6) IT WAS NOT COOL! It still is NOT COOL. Neither band nor album had earned that right, and they had plenty of other astounding musical ditties to choose from.

You see, live music is all about spontaneity. If I want to listen to an album I can stick it on my iPod anytime and listen to it. I can even jumble up the order so I don’t know what’s coming next. I don’t need to spend 15 quid to breath in other people’s sweat and queue at the bar for overpriced beer – I just put my headphones on. Unpredictability cannot, and should not be taken for granted. Part of the mystique of the live experience hoping, nay praying that they play your most prized track, watching the clock thinking closing time is drawing uncomfortably near. Will it come as part of the encore? Will there be explosions or and extended space jam (thank you for this many times Queens of the Stone Age)?  Sculpting a set list is a different discpline than putting together an album’s running order. Knowing the setlist of AC/DC’s phenomenal gig at the O2 arena earlier this year actually detracted from my enjoyment of it, despite the fact that they always play the same stuff.

Hear me now Mastodon (or should that be Mastodon’t), it is NOT cool!

I can only thank Valient Thorr, last night’s support, for an electrifying and highly amusing performance in which the songs were in a random order and from multiple albums. Your beards are truly inspirational. Valient Thorr, that IS cool.

(1.5)