A cloud of fog ascended over the murmuring crowd, obscuring the stage as band members Wata and Takeshi walked on. Low droning power chords emanated from Wata’s guitar, fostering a palpable sense of anticipation. The stage lights dimmed as lead singer Atuso walked on stage and the crowd fell silent, awaiting his next move. Atsuo raised a single hand to the ceiling, and with that the Amplifier Worship Service began.
I can say without a doubt that Boris’s Amplifier Worship Tour is the loudest concert I’ve ever been to, though it wasn’t until halfway through the show when I looked around me and saw everyone wearing earplugs that I considered my risk of permanent hearing loss. In the end, the experience was beyond worth it. It was my first sludge-metal concert, and my first time at Beachland Ballroom in Cleveland, so I had no idea what to expect. My girlfriend and I took our place in the pit a few rows back and waited for the show to begin.
Starcrawler opened for Boris that night, with a punk-rock performance filled with energy and crowd interaction. At one point in the set, guitarist Henri Cash stepped down from the stage mid-solo; a crew member reeled an extremely long guitar cord out as Cash parted the crowd and walked out of the ballroom. To our collective amusement, an audience member returned with his guitar and stepped onto the stage, continuing the solo and finishing the song with the rest of the band. In another song, Wata (the guitarist of Boris) took Cash’s place on stage, playing one of the sickest guitar parts I’ve ever seen with unsettling ease and lack of affect. As my girlfriend perfectly described, it felt as if she had some “dark power”.
As the members of Boris took the stage, the energy of the room shifted. The stage was dark, with red and blue lights casting a purple haze upon the band members. Their presence alone elicited awe, but the unmatched power they held over the crowd when they performed kept me spellbound. They performed their album, Amplifier Worship, in its entirety. The first song, Huge, featured both drummer Muchio as well as lead singer Atsuo on drums. The two sat directly across from each other playing the same part with astonishing synchronization. When Atsuo wasn’t drumming with Muchio, his death growl and hard vocals resonated throughout the venue.
I could feel the bass through the floors, billowing my pants and burning in my chest. At one point I looked above me and saw a single piece of confetti suspended in the air, trapped bobbing up and down between the waves of sound. The audience moved like the fluttering scraps of paper scattered across the venue, headbanging back and forth to the music. It felt as if through our motions, like Muchio and Atsuo, we acted in perfect sync with each other and the music around us.
Halfway through the song Ganbouki, the rhythmic drumming and dissonant guitar slowly faded and Atsuo rose holding a pair of small hand cymbals outstretched before the audience. The entire room fell silent as he struck them together and waved them over us, manipulating the sound. The stage lights dimmed and the buzzing of the amps dissipated until all I could make out was Atsuo and the ringing of the cymbals. You could have heard a pin drop in the crowd. This went on for about a minute before the cymbals struck a last time and Atsuo looked to the sky, hands outstretched. In one big hit, the band returned as loud as ever, and under glowing green light the music trudged on. It felt as if in that room Atsuo had frozen time for a moment, then thrown us back in twice the speed. As I rewatch the videos now, I still struggle to understand our collective silence. It was a sacred moment.
The final song Vomitself ended with Atsuo oscillating the mic stand over the crowd, creating a screeching effect. Muchio struck a gong onstage in a ritualistic fashion, adding to the cacophony of sound. It was the perfect deafening end to Boris’s transformative performance. As we left the venue on a chilly night in Cleveland, OH I felt many things, but heard only ringing. The show certainly lived up to its name. The Amplifier Worship Service made me a believer.
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