Waiting for Liturgy to spark into life and/or eternal death in London

My arms were too anaemic to handle the tattooist's needle, I was insufficiently hirsute to acquire Thor-esque facial hair (or even that godless abomination, the neckbeard) and being raised primarily on classical and Motown, I found the mere concept of Slayer et al. as intimidating as Liam Neeson on the search for another kidnapped daughter. But now I'm older, having spent the last decade inuring my eardrums to everything from My Bloody Valentine to Melt-Banana I felt it was finally time I should give this most maligned of genres a chance. And what better entry point than the hipster metal band du jour, Liturgy?

Along with with their fellow Americans Deafheaven, Liturgy have successfully made black metal almost respectable among the Pitchfork crowd (as evidenced by the lack of black clothing and/or skulls on display tonight), although the two bands take quite different approaches to the genre. While Deafheaven incorporate large doses of post-rock and shoe-gaze into their sound whilst having a lead singer who sounds like a hedgehog has been wedged deep into both ends of his digestive system, Liturgy adheres to the traditional black metal aesthetic with more orthodoxy, while employing often understated vocals (although guttural growls still feature, because what would otherwise be the point?) and a greater use of light and shade than might be expected.

Case in point: tonight (11/06/15) at London's Elektrowerkz they open with "Pagan Dawn", a cathartic wall of shredded guitars and maximum velocity drum rolls that inspires some energetic flailing amongst those in attendance, but follow-up "Father Vorizon" is a more sludgy and doom-laden affair reminiscent of 90's stoner-rock, which gels well with nonchalant, monotonous vocals of the improbably named Hunter Hunt-Hendrix.

On the whole they're not the most expressive of bands on stage, sometimes coming across as joyless as an accountancy seminar on Luton High Street (with the exception of their drummer, who I suspect from the glint in his eye may have absconded from HMP Pentonville), but despite their seriousness they do deliver some righteously ludicrous assaults upon our persons.

"Kel Valhaal" is essentially an aural rendering of an Advanced Dungeons and Dragons campaign on LSD, "Quetzalcoatl" with its twiddly guitars and almost orchestral sweep is epic enough to make Mono nod with approval, and of course there's "Reign Array," with its mournful synth-harpsichord opening seguing into eleven straight minutes of unrelenting badassery.

It's just a shame that for all their noise and thunder and technical virtuosity, there isn't always enough substance or edge to back it up. Some songs just devolve into a string of aimless cacophonies, not even having the decency to be abrasive enough to pierce their boringness, and their performance, whilst solid enough, never quite sparks into life and/or eternal undeath. An interesting diversion with more than a few moments worth energetically head-banging to, but I think I'll be holding off on the tattoo.