I had never been to either venue before in my life. When I arrive the stamp guy gives me static over which wrist he prefers to mark. It doesn’t matter, I’m only here to see Blood Ceremony. Not a lot of people here for the opening act but those who came out are showing their support. Radio rock ballads with Mercyful Fate lyrics and I need a beer. We’re only allowed to drink at the back of the auditorium. Is this the ice cream social? It doesn’t matter, I’ve got all the time in the world. After I finish my tall boys of Rainier I cross the threshold in anticipation for Blood Ceremony, who I actually never had the pleasure of seeing live before. Look around the half empty room and get the impression that I might be alone in my pursuit of doom flute majesty. I proceed toward the stage as some really rad audio over the house speakers sets up the young Canadian four piece perfectly. Lights dim and things get real. Vocalist, flutist and organist Alia steps to the mic and I can’t not hang on every syllable but when she goes for that flute all bets are off. That flute sends me. It’s so commanding the way that she plays it on tracks like “The Rare Lord”, “Oliver Haddo” and “Return To Forever”. After the ceremony commences the room starts to fill in some more and it becomes apparent that I’m no longer the only person having a great time and showing it. It must be tough for dudes who really want to appear masculine to have to sit through something as beautiful and moving as Blood Ceremony and not be able rock out. Their loss. You’ll never look tough wearing a Ghost t-shirt so just quit flexin’. The ceremony is in full swing and incredibly tight jamming together considering they have a newer rhythm section than they had on their first self-titled album. Sean and Andrew have a real nice “old guitarist/new drummer” thing going for them and it works very well. New bassist Lucas plucks away merrily at his four strings like a fiddling forrest imp in a Magic card painting the whole time and I really love all the open-ended parts where they slow things down and open the songs up for some motherfucking flute! At this point the effects of the hash have been somewhat overshadowed by the high of the live musical experience. On wax they’re an aural feast but if you love that then you really haven’t lived until you see Blood Ceremony live. They mostly played material from their latest album, Living With The Ancients, which happened to rank pretty nicely on my best of list from last year. I love that Blood Ceremony aren’t afraid to reach back in time and pull from their influences in such a pure and honest fashion without coming off like just another two-bit Coven rip off band. There are too many of those floating around out there today but this lot are definitely adding something fresh and exciting to that pedigree. Blood Ceremony are a band that might come off a little obvious on a record but are actually quite surprising and dare I say… ceremonious in the flesh.
I like Ghost from Sweden. Ghost is fun, especially when I saw them finish up last year’s death fest in Maryland. Graveyard are a another Swedish band that I’ve actually been digging on longer and harder than Ghost. Since Portland got hit with the Swedish Invasion on the same exact night I had to make this decision a while ago and it was a very easy choice. As soon as the ceremony ended I booked it out of there to catch Graveyard across town. Luckily Portland is a small town.
So apparently Graveyard hold some heavy clout with the hipsters? That’s cool ’cause the outside of this gig is crawling with babes and I’m all kinds of plastered. Wow this place is fancy. Modern, chic, swanky and earthy being the best four adjectives I can muster to describe it. It isn’t my vibe at all but it’s very inviting and I feel right at home. Judging by the direction that the frantic heavy blues jamming is coming from I guess that the show must be downstairs so I follow the sounds toward the staircase and low and behold there’s another stamp guy here to worry about my wrists for me. Only this guy is way higher than the previous sentry, “Nah man, it’s sold out. I’m sorry.” FUCK. Throw him a look like I might be able to make him some kind of Burnt Offerings if he would let me through, no dice. It would’ve been too good to be true. Lick my wounds and step outside to see if I can get an American Spirit off one of these Whole Foods girls and only after I stepped back out did I realize just how packed the joint really was. My friends are just arriving to the show and I tell them it’s sold out so they decide to bail and invite me to a party back in the neighborhood. Something keeps me from skipping out to that party, just yet anyway… Of course! This place is packed! Not a lot of bands I care about ever come through here… “I’m getting in this place.” my New York City mind tells me as I proceed past the front door toward the courtyard with the raging flame pit. Hipsters abound and I don’t see any other leather jackets so I probably stick out like Tony I.’s stubby finger. Walked far enough away from the door now that I’m confident enough to hop the torso high, faux lincoln log fence set up and into the courtyard of skinny smokers in expensive scarves. Rapidly approaching the side entrance into the bar and another stamp guy cuts me off half way to check my pulse. This one is dead sober but not too fast on his toes. I show him the stamp I got at the other venue and he doesn’t give it a second thought. So far I’ve learned that no two stamp guys are alike but I’m not home free yet. I’ve still got to get downstairs past the first stamp guy but he was pretty ripped too so I have a fair shot… Didn’t even notice me. I’m in for real now. Downstairs was a pretty surreal sight. Packed shoulder to shoulder with a lot more attractive people than were in attend the other venue and all for four Swedes playing some obscure, seriously dark and bluesy heavy psych rock. Here’s one thing I love about hip bars – Pabst in bottles. Since I snuck in I figured I should at least size up the merch booth situation out of support for a band that’s given me the fuel for countless hours of good times over the past few years. Impeccable timing when just as I empty my bottle Graveyard start taking the stage, which was draped in old psychedelic looking carpets and tapestries not to mention the lava lamp imagery projecting behind the band for the duration of their set. An old Fred Gwynne-with-a-lot-of-white-hair looking dude mans the light controls and I’m on autopilot at this point. I smell buds and can’t locate them but that’s okay because Graveyard look like they’re having just as great a time as I am! They sound loud as hell and fuzzy as shit! They ripped through most of their latest album, Hisingen Blues, which made a serious splash last year for it’s balls deep approach to playing the blues. Fast, hard yes but they know how to take things slow without weighing things down or beating you over the head in the slightest. Like real blues, the lyrical content is all pretty dark with these guys which is something I verily respect seeing as how they could probably quite easily go be another radio ballad type band and play to way larger spaces than this dank but classy watering hole which is a serious hybrid of a mid-60′s Ken Adam set and the gentlemen’s club in Twin Peaks. I give the hipsters a lot of credit, I enjoyed this crowd’s reaction to the music just a tiny bit more than the seemingly divisive “love it or hate it” vibe I picked up from the Ghost crowd. Then again maybe that’s because there were a lot more people in that smaller space so it seemed like there was more crowd participation. Only thing I know for sure is that I’m having a killer time! After Graveyard encore with “Satan’s Finest” and a couple others I rush the bar which is so busy I don’t even get charged for my beer. I acquire a cigarette, new friends are made. I rule at Tuesday nights.
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