In black metal, a genre where evil and mayhem are prerequisites for success, Emperor is the blackest of the black. And like light-allergic vampires that rarely emerge from dim confines, the band seldom ventures outside its Norwegian homeland to perform. Wednesday night’s show at a near-capacity Metro marked Emperor’s first local appearance in eight years. The reunited group did not disappoint.
One of the most innovative acts in metal history, Emperor mixed previously disparate elements — symphonic currents, folk melodies and pagan themes — into harsh arrangements, producing haunted and glorious sounds. When the band split up in 2001, its status as black metal’s foremost artisans stood uncontested.
Part of the credit stems from Emperor’s role in the music’s notorious rise during the early ’90s, a period that saw several former members serve prison time for atrocities that included murder and assault. Current guitarist and band founder Samoth, who last summer was prohibited from entering the U.S. and absent from a handful of Emperor concerts because of visa problems, was found guilty of church arson.
While its anti-social behavior is in the past, Emperor hasn’t lost its appetite for the extreme. Combining endurance and power, the band’s 90-minute show was a sonic and visual conflagration of immense proportions. With physical movements limited by the songs’ intricate demands, the group basked in the ghoulish glow of floor-to-ceiling lights and dry-ice vapors as it negotiated labyrinthine twists with near-flawless execution.
Vocalist/guitarist Ihsahn’s singing alternated between strangled shrieks and demonic gurgles. As on record, most of his spewed words were unintelligible. Still, harmonized vocal passages led to participatory chants that the crowd seized as battle hymns. Ihsahn’s unique deliveries aside, a majority of thrills came from Emperor’s majestic turbulence and prog-leaning ambition.
“Thus Spake the Nightspirit” and “The Loss and Curse of Reverence” both featured prolonged moments of racehorse speed and headlong violence. Yet each was distinguished by breathing room and gothic undertones. Similarly, as indicative as “Inno a Satana” was of Emperor’s underground invocations, “In the Wordless Chamber” epitomized the unit’s singularity. As the song’s bullet-train quickness ceded to triumphant pageantry, it became clear that beauty is sometimes found in darkness.
