Norwegian black metal is many things: it's a genre, a scene, a cult sometimes, a way of life even. It's also a moment in time, and as that moment is drifting further into the mist of History, its protagonists and its fans are aging accordingly. Can this music and ethos created by very young men survive the inevitable decrepitude of its participants? Some bands, like Mayhem, have adapted: their music, while still indubitably evil and menacing, is now a little more presentable, and, dare I say it, mainstream. The theatricality has versed over to pageantry, and the extremity is now closer to avant-garde performance art than to the grimy, punky, nihilistic expression it starts out as.
Gorgoroth has chosen a decidedly different path, preferring to fester in the underground and giving violent, satanic, hate-filled performances, taking any notion of respectability and accessibility, rolling it over, and raping it in the ass. The New York Times won't be writing articles about them, Hollywood will not produce a prestigious feature film about its many members and in all likelihood they'll never headline a venue any bigger than a couple hundred people.
But if you want to experience the real deal, an intense, blasphemous, uncompromising hour of primitive, difficult, hostile music in a small room of like-minded derelicts, they've got you covered. It's not subtle, it doesn't feel good and you won't brag about it to your co-workers the next day, but, for better and for worse, it's the closest you'll get to re-living the early black metal glory days of 35 years ago.
NB: The lights were absolutely awful for photography. It made for a great audience experience, but consequently the pics below are even shittier than usual...
