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Fable prog-rockers, Coheed and Cambria, played a show last Friday at House of Blues, where crowd surfing and moshing were as permanent as the summer heat.
Who knew that HOB security would have to rev up their crowd-control skills for a show where the headlining band makes videos featuring scaly mermaids and centaurs?
Hyped-up concert goers chanted “Coheed,” but had to practice patience through the two opening acts.
Instrumental band Russian Circles started the evening off with grating grooves. “Micah,” a song which starts melodically slow and gradually builds into a blistering blizzard is worth YouTubing.
Secret Machines lived up to their name by remaining hidden, rockin’ in the dark for the whole set. Behind the trio there were round luminescent floodlights, which looked like a series of moons, adding to the space-rock sound. Every so often the sight of shadowy, jerking leg twitches from the guitarist and bassist made me question if this band really was robotic.
“Nowhere Again” started with catchy drumming and a lyric about a woman “in a fiery state” who is “lifting her dress” caught my attention. But, it didn’t seem to hold the interest of the disgruntled teen couple, next to me, craving pure Coheed.
The anxious, iron hearts of attendees were sent a flutter when Coheed sauntered onto the stage. Frontman Claudio Sanchez’s guitar displayed a silvery doorknocker, which looked like it had been jacked from Disney’s Haunted Mansion ride. But, who would expect anything less mystical from a band whose very name refers to a fictional apocalyptic couple, of their own comic creation.
Like a plentiful plate of steamy sea urchin or eel fritters, Sanchez’s voice is most definitely an acquired taste. His tone is cartoonish, nasally screechy with hints of Rush’s Geddy Lee speckled in for good progressive-rock measure. But on this August eve, Sanchez’s voice didn’t sound nearly as puppy-ear-piercingly high and for that I was thankful.
“The Running Free,” (perhaps a nod to Iron Maiden’s song “Running Free”), had fans spouting out an anthemic chorus.
“The Suffering,” prompted one of many singalongs and when Sanchez belted out “Listen well/Will you marry me? …” a few female fans looked like they were ready to accept his proposal.
“In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth: 3” was lengthy. Its hard riffs and talk of manning “battle stations” sent Coohedians into a frenzy. It was during this point that the crowd started to look like a mini militia. The lyric about cutting the “throats of babies” was disturbing, but seemed to be an appropriate theatrical fit, given the thematic context that creeps its way into their albums.
After a short break, Sanchez returned clutching a double neck guitar and proceeded to bestow “Welcome Home,”— a song whose distinct guitar intro made me grin. As one who doesn’t dig helium-esque vocals, I was surprised by how much I liked the tune.
“Blood Red Summer” sounded more like emo-pop, yet still got a glowing reaction from attendees.
At one adrenaline bursting point of the night, Sanchez dodged an airborne water bottle. Looking at the overgrown Chia Pet that sways and trembles on his skull, I got the feeling that the blow would be softened even if it had hit.
Another highlight for the crowd came when Sanchez pressed guitar strings to enamel. I admired his effort to play guitar with his teeth, but I say leave the pearly-chopper action to Jimi.
Drummer Chris Pennie redefined the concept of a drum solo by smacking the skins as if they had made one too many “your mama” jokes. Taking us through an epic series of beats, he was the ultimate prince of percussion. He seemed superhuman, converging with his snare and bass drums, playing with the charismatic concentration of a manic monk.
After Pennie’s forceful mind-blowing performance, Sanchez and company made their way back to the stage, like warriors of rock, ready to send out a final battle cry. What they played sounded like the uncanny instrumental chorus of Led Zeppelin’s “Dazed and Confused.”
As the curtain closed, a twangy recording of Hank Williams’s “Hey Good Lookin’” yelped out of the speakers, while exhausted moshpitters kicked around plastic cups.
Coheed is like an edgier mainstream version of nerdcore. C&C bridge the gap between sci-fi fans and diehard metalheads by pairing fantasy lyrics with weighty wattage.
Surprisingly, at this show, those who enjoy Iron Maiden and those who like reading about elfin maidens converged in the same place without any bloodshed. The closest thing to potential carnage came when drumsticks were hurled into the crowd. I won’t be fighting kids for show memorabilia or purchasing a Coheed album anytime soon. Yet, I can see the appeal of a band fronted by a mythical creature who has a nest of explosive curls and a voice that sometimes sounds like it could belong to a chick.
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