Finland's Wintersun are one of the most exciting bands on the scene today. I honestly think their output is revolutionary, taking Heavy Metal music to a higher plane of creativity.
This blog post will not be dedicated to them.
Rather, this blog post will be dedicated to the band who opened for them last night at the Opera House in Toronto, the syllabically extravagant Fleshgod Apocalypse (is there a mail-order service for these band names?).
Here's what I have to say about Fleshgod Apocalypse: in almost twenty years of concert going, I have never, ever, until now, felt the need to pull out a book and start reading while the band was playing. That's right: Fleshgod Apocalypse are the musical equivalent of a bus stop.
Analysis is to follow, as to why such well intentioned haloweeny theatrics could go so disastrously wrong, but I have to leave for the cottage in twenty minutes and still haven't packed any socks - suffice it to say, they were completely utterly awful. I hated them. As fun as watching paint dry, as musical as a car crash, as Metal as filing your tax returns, Fleshgod Apocalypse have set a new standard for gnawing-off-leg-tedium. They made me want to cut my hair and listen to smooth jazz. They sounded like a cat in a blender, and what's worse, inspired the audience to sound the same way after they had mercifully left the stage.
Speaking of bone-shattering excitement, I actually do have to file some tax-returns, so to continue this conversation, why not smear a jar of white face-paint over the trunk of the nearest tree you can find and watch it grow for forty minutes. You will have experienced Fleshgod Apocalypse.