Opening the night were Swedish Trio, Grand Magus. Opening for a twisty and intricate band like Opeth is a difficult task and the contrast Grand Magus provided eased the fresh crowd into a different night than what many are used to – at least, for these bands. They were there to do what they do best, summon the spirit of classic heavy metal and to set the space for music to build from. And they did just that. It was no-nonsense metal and a no-nonsense performance. They showed that heavy metal doesn’t need embellishment and syncopated rhythm. Sometimes, it just needs to be played loud.
Opeth have occupied a unique space in metal for a long time. Guttural, intricate and decorated. Mikael Åkerfeldt in his self-deprecating humour, said of having a sit-down gig in the Symphony Hall felt fitting for his “thinking man’s metal.” He goes on to say that their fan base skews towards the well-dressed, real estate agents and stockbrokers moonlighting as metalheads. Mikael was on form tonight. He further added that they were there in Birmingham not just for the money, but to showcase their new album. Though he itted with characteristic honesty that he often prefers listening to it rather than playing It – because it’s “fucking difficult”.
Their reputation as a live band is one they take seriously. Åkerfeldt recounted a story that he had read on another major web new outlet of a band cancelling a show because their laptop went missing, shaking his head at the absurdity. “We’re a live band,” he emphasized. Later in the evening, showing this live talent, a track that requires skilful tuning adjustments on the fly. “We have to drop tune, play a riff, retune, and then play the next rull hoping to God that we’re all in tune.” And, unsurprisingly, they were. Although it did appear that Åkerfeldt took an extra moment to adjust, which is completely fair when you’re doing the musical equivalent of juggling fire and riding a unicycle.
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Watching Opeth perform is witnessing delicately controlled chaos. A drummer playing like he’s sitting an advanced maths exam while bassist Martín Méndez stays locked into a trance-like state, effortlessly as cool as the music enveloping the room.
The trouble with a show like this, a front man with quick wit and dry humour combined with a sit-down gig in an auditorium with perfect acoustics is that you can hear, very clearly, the playful heckles in the room. One situation when a man in the crowd – his accent thick and unintelligible to those not inebriated, shouted something rather long and incomprehensible. Åkerfeldt was quick enough to appease him by handing over a plectrum and telling him that he loved him, which seemed to quieten down the heckler. Well, that, and the security.
One of the biggest audience reactions? When Åkerfeldt casually mentioned that he doesn’t like tea. Cue the loudest round of booing Symphony Hall has probably ever heard.
Opeth also paid tribute to Brummie legends, Napalm Death. They blasted through all two glorious seconds of “You Suffer”. Another tribute was given to the man who first signed Opeth in the early ‘90s which added a touch of class to the evening. Never forget your roots. The set list was woven with an eclectic mix of the band’s history and made for a night any self-respecting fan would kick themselves for missing.
One of the night’s strangest moments came when Åkerfeldt itted that during one song, he suddenly thought about Benedict Cumberbatch’s infamous inability to pronounce “penguin.” A mental detour into BBC documentary voiceovers wasn’t on this exquisite setlist, but somehow, it felt right at home. It really is the “thinking man’s metal,” isn’t it?
Pics by Watchmaker Studios
