Live Report: Exhumed, With Goatwhore, Havok
Chris Krovatin is the author of two young adult novels, Heavy Metal & You and Venomous. He is currently working on multiple new writing projects, as well as new material with his local New York metal band Flaming Tusk. He is a contributing writer for Revolver and generally comes off as a good-natured pain in everyone’s collective ass.
On Wednesday, November 9, I saw Exhumed, supported by Goatwhore and Havok at the Europa in Brooklyn, NY. Here’s what I witnessed:
Worst subway line in New York City: The G.
Only subway that stops in Greenpoint: See above.
Beneficial aspects: It weeds out the posers. If you’re willing to transfer trains three or four times, you’re pretty dedicated to gore metal.
Things that the saw is: The law, alive, a state of mind.
Bands I’ve missed upon arrival at Europa: Brohammer from Tuscon, AZ.
Brohammer as described to me by someone in attendance: Something along the lines of very aggressive King Diamond.
Thus: I’m not terribly upset about missing them.
Drinking a Budweiser at Europa: $5.
The Amazonian polish chick redhead bringing it to you: Priceless.
Hilarious band move: Soundchecking all the instruments, then walking five feet offstage, letting the intro tape play, and returning to the stage triumphantly.
And now: Havok from Denver, CO.
Towns that don’t seem incredibly metal: Denver, CO.
Sounds like: Breakneck, poisonous thrash metal with just the right amount of pauses.
Bassist of the night: Havok four-stringer Jesse De Los Santos. The bass at the beginning of “Morbid Symmetry” is cool and old-school as Hell.
Notable tracks: “Scumbag in Disguise”.
Official mindfuck of the night: The fat dude in the white shirt and no pants windmilling his arms furiously along the edge of the mosh pit.
True story of the night: This guy really had no fucking pants. He looked like a pissed-off Humpty Dumpty.
Coolest merch: Gotta go to Goatwhore. So many shirts, a cool patch, beer coozies, and thongs.
Minutes it takes Exhumed to sell out the Gore Metal T-shirts: Approximately 24.
Common occurrence at a gore metal show:By the end, all of the shirts are labeled ‘SMALL ONLY!’
Disappointment of the night: No Cephalic Carnage? Bummer, that’s one of the bands of my youth. Really wanted to see them tonight.
But now: Goatwhore from New Orleans, LA.
Sounds like: Celtic Frost doing peyote on top of a giant bipedal goat’s head.
Favorite Goatwhore lyric: “And the angels shall be my whores” from “Sky Inferno.”
Say what you want about Goatwhore: They are an intimidating band live.
Six degrees to Goatwhore: In college, my house’s restaurant had a baller chef named Jon Michael who knew either Ben or Sam from Goatwhore back in NOLA (maybe both).
What this means to anybody: Nothing whatsoever.
Awesome closer: “Apocalyptic Havok.”
Noted oddity: Multiple people buying the new Exhumed. It’s just not common to see folks throwing down twelve bucks on a CD these days, especially a band’s most recent album.
To be fair: The new Exhumed is really fucking good.
Back patch of the night: The dude with the all-over Artillery back patch.
Confession: Man, I don’t know shit about shit about Artillery.
Crowd rating: Overall, pretty true.
And finally: Exhumed from San Jose, CA.
Sounds like: Just, fuckin’, blood. Blood everywhere, really fast.
Click Here To Watch The Video
Most brutal thing, ever: The three guitarists of Exhumed lifting their axes to reveal ‘GORE’, ‘FUCKING’, and ‘METAL’ on the back.
Number of bricks shat upon seeing above event: 29.
Crowd response: Exuberant.
Awesome classic track of the evening: “Casket Krusher.”
Badass new track played: “Distorted and Twisted to Form.”
Number of ‘FUCK, man’s uttered at the end of above track: 11.
Number of stage divers bumping directly into vocalist Matt Harvey: Three.
Favorite stage banter of the night: “You’ve all heard of a song called [Cannibal Corpse's] “Hammer Smashed Face”? Well, this one’s about Hammer Smashed…EVERYTHING.”
When I say ‘Necro,’ you say: MANIAC!
State of neck: Obliterated.
Number of train transfers required to get back to Park Slope: Three.
Number of Exhumed fans riding with me the whole way: Two.