The Hell or High Wattage Tour featuring Unearth & More – Live at Foufounes Electriques – October 13th, 2014 – Montreal, QC

The Hell or High Wattage Tour - October 13th, 2014 - Montreal, QC

Everybody has that one band…that one band you know will always deliver. There is never a dull moment and guaranteed shitting in your pants. As you’re reading this, you’re agreeing with me and thinking about which band does this for you. I’ve seen Boston, MA’s metal-core quintet Unearth nine fucking times, and every single fucking time, I need a new pair of pants. The 13th of October, at Foufones Electriques was the tenth, and I’m here to tell you every disgusting detail. Alright, maybe not every disgusting detail, but you get the point. Don’t ruin this for me.

The night didn’t start off so smoothly; I showed up late and missed King Parrot from Melbourne, Australia. Yes, I suck. I did them the courtesy, however, of at least checking the music out. I can’t really say much as I’m a little too confused. It hurts a little bit, so I think I’ll just let you check them out for yourself.

BlackCrownInitiate2
Black Crown Initiate

Next up was Reading, PA’s prog-metal quintet Black Crown Initiate. I probably would have enjoyed this set had it not taken place the wonderous sound hole that is Foufs. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, there is no venue whose sound I hate more. Nonetheless, they seemed tight enough with exception of there being no vocals.

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Origin

INCOMING DEATH METAL! Ring the bell for mother fucking ORIGIN from apparently everywhere (Kansas, California and New York, according to their Facebook page). Shitting your pants was a theme for this evening, because even if Origin had been on mute the entire time, just watching what these individuals did with their hands was frightening enough. This was actually tested when one full song was played without guitar, and believe you me, this was far from intentional.

Followed that is the return of the mighty Carnifex, hailing from San Diego, CA. Slinging that groovy ass deathcore like its nobody’s business, Carnifex’s return was one from which nobody walked away disappointed.

Rounding out The Hell or High Wattage Tour, we finally landed on our direct support: Washington DC’s Darkest Hour. I’ve been a loyal, shit-myself fan of this band for four of their eight records, and reviewing this band was something I’d been looking forward to for quite awhile. It is with a heavy heart, however, that I’m compelled to say they’ve slipped from the path of righteousness. I fully believe in branching out and making some creative differences to your sound, but since the last DH record, I’ve noticed a difference in ferocity from the Washington boys; a difference that I must say is rather disappointing. Of course all the older tunes still sound great, but the attention to detail isn’t there like it used to be.

Redemption was in the air when Unearth hit the stage. A renewed sense of vigor hit my liver and my bowels began to loosen. Alright, I’ll stop with the shitting my pants jokes. The lights dropped and with it came the ceiling as Giles kicked in. In true Unearth fashion, not a note was missed and not a bad time was had, even when I took a random slug in the face because I decided I could still mosh, which I SERIOUSLY need to stop doing. The thing about an Unearth show is that although you don’t wanna blink in case you miss Ken or Buzz doing a backflip and landing square on your face with awesomeness, you also can’t help but lose yourself in the brutality of their music. I won’t even get started on the beauty that is the lion’s roar of Trevor Phipps.

The moral of this great, big ass-kissing review is that when you play every show as if it is your last, you create an on-stage rapport, like Unearth’s; consistent, mosh pit-inducing metal, a rapport unlike that of any other band. If you’re in a band, never stop and never admit victory, because you’re never there, even if you can do a triple guitar swing.

Now, as per usual, I have tears to wipe from my eyes and a busted lip to bitch about.

Written by Jason Greenberg
Photography by Gabii H-Blanco

About Jason Greenberg 139 Articles
On the first day, the Lord said "Let there be Bucketlist," and all of human kind then became aware of the incredulity or abysmally flaccid result on their attempt at Art. On the second day, the Lord said "Jason, go review that show you're going to on Friday," and begrudgingly, a review was made. What the world was for Jason Greenberg before that point is either completely unimportant or mildly pornographic, but the world of today after many years of serving his Queen has brought him opportunity, hardship, and a whole lot of Bucketlist patches on indiscriminate pieces of clothing. You may see him lugging your band's equipment and yelling at you aimlessly about the useless construct of time. You may see him expelling a noise not fully understood by humankind at the end of a microphone. You may even see him swimming in an ocean of poutine, but you will always see him as his true self, a sentient and obnoxious Bucketlist Music Reviews Billboard.

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