Ireland’s 32, an Irish bar located in San Francisco’s Inner Richmond district, didn’t exactly look like a place that routinely handled live music seven nights per week. I could see a troupe of red haired traditionalists all named Seamus playing drinking songs with fiddles, accordions, and uilleann pipes every now and then, but this bar definitely wasn’t where I would expect to find a few local modern rock bands banging away. The walls were plastered with rusted tin beer signs and vintage campaign banners for expired Irish elections.
Waiting for the show to start, I pulled up a stool at the bar and asked the gray-haired bartender for a glass of water. He looked at me with an expression that was a mix of half shock and half disgust, like I had just insulted his mother. I must have committed a crime by not ordering a Guiness. I quickly snuck away to another seat closer to the stage to escape his silent- albeit justified- ridicule.
The show was delayed for about 30 minutes for unknown reasons. With this free time I looked around and saw that the people in the bar fell into only two categories: friends of the bands and friends of the bar. There was no overlap. The people there that were not affiliated with the bands were pleasantly involved in Monday night conversation and looked almost confused when the first jagged chord from the opening band, Hazerfan, exploded from the stage.
Hazerfan’s performance breathed with an organic liveliness. Their style was very rich and lush Prog Metal with a slight New Age vibe swirled into their ethereal grit. Listening to them sounded like being lost in a dark medieval forest haunted by hungry werewolves, mischievous imps, and fire breathing dragons. It’s music that Frodo would totally rock out to if he were tatted up and tore through The Shire on a gun metal gray Ducati 916.
Shiloh |
Besides the staple guitar-bass-drum core, Hazerfan used a clarinet and keyboards for additional sound experimentation. The layers added by the synth successfully produced an atmosphere of ominous darkness. It made their songs sound more epic, more urgent, and more engulfing. Exceptional percussive work pummeled with a deep ferocity churned each song with a deep sense of approaching danger. By the end, I was hungry for my Opeth albums. An instrumental belly dance and sword show by the bikini topped vocalist was an effective way to punctuate their set.
Second on the bill was Shiloh. Hailing all the way from North Carolina, they were on the road as a part of their “Children of the Interstate” tour. Part Punk Metal with Hardcore breakdowns and melodic interludes, they’re riding the wave of the successful Hot Topic top sellers. They sounded as if they would be more at ease in the iPods of pissed off high school seniors who hate their parents, get laughed at by the popular girls, and think going to class is for losers. Imagine Atreyu, Funeral for a Friend, 18 Visions, and Zebrahead, all getting dumped by their girlfriends on the day Bush was re-elected.
Ireland’s 32 was much too small to adequately handle the decibel level they were trying to pump out. The kick drum had no room to expand and ended up getting stacked on top of itself and sounding stuffy. Also, even though the crowd appreciated the effort, a noticeable generation gap between the music and the audience hung heavy in the air. Shiloh was respected but not understood. The Warped Tour would probably be more fitting both for the target of the band’s message and for the way it was received.
The headlining band was Cloakwheel. Relatively new to the gigging circuit, I had no clue what to expect before the start of the show. When they started unpacking their own tinted lighting, set of chimes, and smoke machine, I knew they were going to try their hardest to turn this lager-soaked tavern into more than just an excuse to headbang. They wanted to create an experience. Their t-shirts- Pink Floyd, Nevermore, and one for A Clockwork Orange- read like a list of ingredients. Fans shouting “Tokewheel” let me know of another spice stirred into their- ahem- pot of influences.
Cloakwheel |
Soon the smoke slowly started rolling across the splintered floorboards. Sinister red lighting turned the haze into a menacing crimson fog. I was ready for something demonic. Although I don’t agree with it too much, there is some slightly Satanic Metal I can appreciate. I enjoy a Satyricon tune every now and then. I own three Dimmu Borgir albums. I felt prepared.
Much to my surprise, Cloakwheel was not the Devil-loving hellhounds I had expected to hear. They are better identified as a dark Progressive Metal band coated in a thick layer of Grunge. Tying those styles together as seamlessly as Cloakwheel did was extremely intriguing because it is not an easy match to make. Their opening song injected an acidic wickedness straight into the crowd. The dual guitar interplay was razor sharp and laced with an addictive shrillness from the start. The lead guitar was technically impressive while not being so complex that it lost anyone trying to ride the rhythm. Additionally, I silently thanked them for their decision to use clean vocals. Barking can sound really wonderful on some bands, but Cloakwheel has a frailty in their sound that wouldn’t support harsh, guttural screams. Often I wished for more power and range from the lead vocalist but was satisfied overall. A thick bass pleasantly contrasted the squealing rapid-fire riffs. The drums complimented nicely, sticking to the crisp high hats and toms that added an appropriate crash to the brittle Metal edges.
Their set was diverse yet established the band with an identity due to the fact that their approach to songwriting is based on a foundation not attempted by many others. The song “Ashes In Your Mouth” opened like a Meshuggah B-side, broke away into a dizzying ‘80s era Megadeth thrash, threw a secondhand flannel shirt on the flames then double backed on itself leaving something monstrous ringing in the air after the dust settled.
About to hit the studio to do some recording, Cloakwheel is a band I’d recommend to any Metalhead regardless of preferred style. This is not a plug. Typically I’m a fan of more straightforward, predictable Metal (i.e.: Children of Bodom, In Flames, Lamb of God) and even I was hanging on to every unique twist this band pulled out with a devilish grin. It’s like hating tomatoes and then finding a restaurant that makes an awesome BLT.
The night ended up being full of surprises. All three bands entertained thoroughly and this Irish pub ended up swaying with a good-natured hostility on a Monday night. Keep your eyes and ears on warning for these bands and you might end up being just as surprised....if not more.
