THIS LITTLE UNDERGROUND
Torche, Bloodlet and Bask at Will’s Pub, Feb. 23
The big feature of the recent Endoxa Booking showcase was the stacking of two generations of Florida metal royalty. At the top of the marquee were reigning sludge-pop monarchs Torche, still one of the most high-flying and well-conceived bands of their class right now. Whetting their perfected groove like master swordsmiths, the forward-pushing Miami pioneers again showed why they’re lords of the new heavy church.
The blast from the past was Orlando’s Bloodlet. The groundbreaking metalcore band that emerged as poster boys of the 1990s heavy underground have been on a resurrection tear in recent years. In 2014, the now-defunct Baltimore metal label A389 Recordings began unearthing the band’s legacy through reissues and other recordings. And since 2017, Bloodlet have been an active and touring force again.
No one should begrudge an influential band enjoying some accrued legend. But when their return is a victory lap done with the fitness and fury of Bloodlet’s recent performance, it deserves maximum ovation. Their dynamic merge of hardcore and metal was maneuvered live with skill and rage. More than simply being renewed, though, Bloodlet are revamped.
After their hiatus, vocalist Scott Angelacos went on to hone his roar like a motherfucker in exceptional Florida bands like Hope & Suicide, Junior Bruce and Hollow Leg. Along the way, he was chiseled into not just a superior singer than he was back in Bloodlet’s original run but one of the most lethal voices in metal today. That would serve anyone well, and Bloodlet are the latest to reap the grisly reward.
Not to be outdone with all the Florida history, North Carolina’s Bask also impressed. Soaked in Appalachian terroir and staked at the intersection of Americana and metal, their expansionist post-metal sound rolls over hill and holler from out on the wood-thick frontier of heavy music.
It’s music with a soul that’s Southern and ancient, and a step that’s mammoth and primordial. And when you’re in the same room with it at crushing live volume, the atmosphere’s so deep that a fog machine blurs into something between a mountain fog and a bong cloud.
Follow Bao on Twitter (@baolehuu)
Email Bao: baolehuu@orlandoweekly.com
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This article appears in Elección 2020.
