A Black Valentine Massacre

At the Rickshaw Theatre on Saturday, February 12

At first glance, the black-leather-clad metal fans at the Rickshaw on Saturday didn’t scream “Let’s be friends,” this thanks to their blood-and-Beelzebub routine. For those in the know, though, Satanism has its sunny side too—just look at Rosemary’s Baby. Sure, Minnie and Roman Castevet helped the devil impregnate a young girl, but they also showed that devil worshippers can be caring neighbours, cooking up a mean chocolate mousse to boot. There may not have been any mousse at the East Hastings venue, but there was plenty of chokingly dense artificial fog and chaotic screaming, with the bands on the bill hell-bent on breaking eardrums and warming hearts for A Black Valentine Massacre.

Unsurprisingly the plaid-clad scenesters were nowhere to be found, the floor instead dotted with East-Van gutterpunks, headbanging longhairs, and ripped-leotard ladies. Victoria’s Horde of Anachron started the carnage with its speed-addled death thrash. Lead singer Wí¼lfkorpse rocked classic metal poses to a set that sounded like Judas Priest’s Sin After Sin if heard on fast forward while smoking crystal meth. The band’s members looked like they were willing and able to rip off the heads of those in the audience, but they were surprisingly fan-friendly, fist-bumping the die-hards who lined the front row as the first wave of metalheads meandered into the venue. The only thing more impressive than the Horde’s occult-inspired music was its impeccable attention to typography in its giant looming logo, which was displayed behind the band on the towering movie screen.

Vancouver’s Tyrants Blood also made the most of its font, filling the second slot with a darker thrash and death-metal fusion that hit the crowd like an infernal thunderstorm. When lead singer Brian Langley declared, “We are Tyrants Blood and we do not fuck around,” his bandmates backed up his bold statement with a sinister onslaught. Langley sang with the intensity of a Candarian demon and Matt Modder pounded the drums at an inhuman speed, blending the sound into a single deafening surge.

Tyrants Blood’s set was impressively bad-ass, the most intimidating thing about it being guitarist Marco Banco. Thanks to his Danzig-size tree-trunk arms, his axe looked like a ukulele in his hands, but he shredded like a champ, with “Deceiver” being a highlight of the night. While the mix was on the tinny side, the overall effect was loud and abrasive, sounding like a rave hosted by Abominog.

Hillbilly headliners the Golers closed the Valentine’s Day preamble with a Deliverance-inspired brand of thrash metal, which luckily didn’t devolve into anyone squealing like a pig. Of the three acts, the Golers’ sound was more defined and somehow managed to avoid the Cookie Monster-in-a-trash-compactor sound that’s typical of smaller metal shows. Most of that was due to the seasoned pipes of Charlie Goler (aka Walter Mason), but the rest of the band was equally up to snuff, bringing the kind of fury that we haven’t seen since the Stormtroopers of Death folded their tent.

Charlie Goler’s condor screech was a welcome assault on the eardrums and the punk-size songs hit the crowd right in their pasty faces. The wife-beater-clad quartet proved that you don’t have to be from rural Georgia to enjoy brash backwoods songs about cow-kissing and Satan. However, it’s going to take quite a few Vodka Blushes and roofie-laced chocolate mousses before we go on any canoe trips with Goler and his bandmates.