REVIEW: Butcher Babies Massacre Cincinnati on Hellpop II Tour

On Jan 12, ¾’s of the 2014 Hellpop II tour came to Bogart’s in Cincinnati. Due to strep throat taking her voice with a high fever, Maria Brink was unable to perform. However the rest of the twisted circus showed up and gave fans a loud, rowdy show that brought many screaming, thrashing bodies over the crowd barrier eager to say hi.

From LA comes Before the Mourning, a new dawn for heavy music injected with young blood and passion. Three guys and one hot iron maiden came to play for the early evening pit ready crowd. The sweat, saliva, testosterone and estrogen flew as they christened their first stop at Bogarts with a definite Need to Bleed out. Clean melodic yelled vocals by Adam Ryan started the adrenaline opener sweeping over intense opening guitar interplay with pulsing bass and slamming drums. The industrial steam pump beginning of Grim went on a roller coaster ride of impassioned tortured vocals with a violent frantic guitar sound playing up and down your neck like a human fret-board.  Slipping through the icy-cold clutches of darkness into mental oblivion. We got a very short break from the nerve wracking mental catacombs with the twangy guitar build of Damned & Forsaken only to be hit by thick Meshuggah riffs. ‘We’re all angels and demons, who’ve lost all feeling,’ the message screamed from the broken heavens as we fall earthbound lying face down slammed in the dirt to wither. By our deeds, not everyone has the right to live but we all have The Right to Die. Someone will be there to bury you. No worries, the light brings loud angels with screaming guitars that will carry you skyward or drop you south. Their sound is as catchy as it is deadly with modern day thrash and infectious melodies. They’re a dangerously delicious taste of deadly absinthe. They finish opening the floor for The Abyss proving humans can throw down just as hard as demons. Before the Mourning is a reminder to celebrate and honor the life of those we lay to rest.

LA’s monstrous mythological contribution of not yet but someday legendary status, All Hail the Yeti turned the stage into the Sawyer/Hewitt family game room, spread with time-weathered skulls, bones, animalized upholstery and some tenderized taxidermy. Either they shop at the international house of bones or trap and kill their stage props before the tour. It’s a coonskin, gator bait grim reaper starring center stage in the bull-headed bazaar, draped and dapper with tribal feathers and fishnet. The Loch Ness was probably hidden somewhere in this wild-west nightmare sipping on dehydration and dust.

They open by taking us on a trip down to the Deep Creek in Big Bear where special chemicals and pollutants mix to create the Alice in Chains version of Creedence Clearwater spiked with some BLS swamp water. The flannel-soaked whisky’s flowing When the Sky Falls, shooting bullets at the moon as sky-bound vermin fall in the fire. We get hot and heavy in the dark Suicide Woods, screaming through the trees in search of the wildebeest. Fee fi fo fum, it smells the blood of everyone.  We’re held by impaled burning wood scorched by flame as After the Great Fire graphically tells the haunting tale. The spirits and souls of charred victims young and old cry through the guitars searing notes: I am the devil in the smoke, I am the ghost. After the fire we get three minutes of drowning intensive Bloodguilt. It was time to move the f’n place around. The dirty, fighting, bullet flying old west comes to modern day Cincinnati on The Art of Mourning. Campfire harmonicas fire up a blaze of sound as bodies sway in the fragile wind, tried running from the angel of death, roped, drawn and quartered by noon, wife, victim of outlaw rape and shot, gone and buried too soon. Revenge is sought, the cross will lead you.  Blood spilt for blood; the crow’s eyes see all. Walk with her in spirit to heavens call. Turning their backs on their Hollywood home and better for it, they’re a nasty, smelly boogie man campfire tale come to life. AHTY is the 2006 brain child of singer, tattoo artist Connor Garritty and guitarist K.J. Duval.  Quickly earning a reputation of stalking their audience with a dead in the eye stare, their shows have left behind a metal hunter’s stake of human remains, oddities, parts and limbs lying about. With savage guitars riffs and dark melodious melodies AHTY is what you’d listen to, blocking out the pain trying to escape out of a bear trap.

From Memphis and the remains of Egypt Central, Devour the Day start out with a Joey Chicago bass funkin, air hammering, sheet-metal sparks flying beat with jamming guitars of Get Out of My Way or be trampled.  It’s electric dance floor destruction at its schizophrenic best. You and Not Me cries for salvation that can’t be seen through another’s eyes. Handshakes to Fistfights comes in looking for trouble, road weary from death’s hand in back-street Memphis. They’ve risen and fallen, too late to turn back now, no point in relapsing to rehab, time to evolve. Ft. Wayne drove them crazy, infatuation isn’t love. Respect… must be earned, and you don’t deserve it. Run away, like a little bitch, you’re not worth it. Their classical piano keyed rock anthem Oath is a promise of a homeward bound to that special someone. Time for a Blackout, everybody freak out, the sign of the times is here. It’s a catchy, bouncy hard rock sing-along. The ‘closer’ opening beat of Move On has infectious techno-pop effects carried by strong emotional vocals and punctuated bass slides. Blake Allison pulls a strong vocal ‘tool’ out on Good Man trying to cast the demons out with the light. New CD Time & Pressure is available at www.devourtheday.com.

The Butcher Babies‘ massacre began when three guys and two loud and proud women teamed their admiration of Marilyn Manson, Slipknot, Slayer, Iron Maiden, Cannibal Corpse, Joan Jett and Gwen Stefani (yep) into their version of musical butchery. Their style is also heavily influenced by iconic grindhouse horror classic The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and the modern day malicious theater of House of 1000 Corpses and The Devils Rejects.  However the person holding the most influence, watching from the metal heavens above, is the queen of early 80’s punk, metal and shock, The Plasmatic’s Wendy O’Williams. Her bad ass, don’t give a s—t what people thought attitude resonated with the band not only influencing their on stage attitude but for the first several years Heidi Shepherd and Carla Harvey’s stage attire consisted of black nipple tape in tribute to Williams persona. What young, impressionable youths wouldn’t be impacted by a crazy mohawk sporting chick driving a school bus into a wall of TVs in the desert? They also took their pluralized name from the Plasmatic song Butcher Baby and gained early attention via YouTube for a performance of F—–g Hostile. They’ve recently retired the tape for more fully dressed metal garb stating that they’ve paid respect and now it’s time to evolve. They self-released their first EP in 2011 and a comic book at Comic Con by Harvey, who’s also a novelist and licensed funeral director and embalmer.

Their show is a wild, vicious display of power with decibel shredding double vocals, pulverizing guitar, bass, drums and hot female aggression. In January 2012, they released Mr. Slowdeath and in May premiered the video from their EP, signing with Century Media in November and embarking on a two month tour with Marilyn Manson. Days later they began recording Goliath, releasing the I Smell a Massacre single in June. Goliath was released in July, touring the Rockstar Energy Drink Mayhem Festival Jagermeister stage in support. Touring continued with Danzig, Texas Hippie Coalition and A Pale Horse Named Death.  The album is a story about the forsaken, shunned by society, festering in the underground, transforming into the Goliath in a world where the more heinous the act, the greater your legend becomes. Thematic songs about the demons around us and trauma suppressed memories that still scream in our sleep. The alluring demonic hell-bred combination of two beautiful voices singing and screaming out ravaged throat-tearing angst counter balancing hope and rage in the same cage with intense brutality.

The blood red illuminated curtain opens, the crowd stands ready for pit-stance.  The smell of bloodshed fills the room with Heidi’s impassioned emerald-ended blonde warrior scream. The massacre’s back here again from a year ago, as the audible mauling begins with the opening throat slit riffs of Henry Flury. The beast inside comes out at night. Two predatory animalistic voices ready to drive insanity into your brain. We see the dark side of the mirror; if these broken glass feelings won’t cut you with frenetic speed, the Butcher Babies will. We feel Harvey’s agony with these feelings of remorse, it’s gonna be a long ride.  Shepherd’s high peaked shredding shrieks prove it’s amazing the stuff you do and the sh- you f- up when you’re In Denial. Brunette song siren Harvey lays down the hypnotizing strong melody as the perpetual movement continues. They’re plasmatic princesses of battle-torn burlesque in a Mad Max world.

Heidi and Carla, much to the chagrin of front stage security invite everyone in the back to ‘find a way’ to the front. Going back to the Butcher Babies EP and a visit from Dr. Feelgood himself, Mr. Slowdeath, as no less than 20 ‘surfers’ did the climb of life during the, hungry for more guitar/bass riffs, making their human-handed way towards the stage within arm’s reach during blood-drenched, emotionally scarred words. The babes and babies called for that one ugly word with fists in the air, screeching like a tortured soul with unanimous headbanging. It was a leather and lace request/order with boot-licking loud good taste from the crooning voice of a hell’s angel on aged whisky. They wanted the biggest Bogart‘s circle pit ever as they enraptured everyone in full Hi-Def sledge-thudding, secret candle lit meeting Deathsurround sound.  Let’s hear you scream Cincinnati! This city of angel’s creeps down the alleys of disease, destroying your innocence, passion and dreams, turned into a different person by drugs, booze and sleaze. Every town has a Magnolia Blvd. The babies get ready to end the show with an old-school Axe Wound to the damaged ear and soul. The crowd falls into the enchanted banshee delivered curse as Heidi, Carla and Henry each take to the railing, standing tall, surveying all who lingered.

They bow, exiting as the house lights come on. But…wait, an attendant ran on stage flashing the index finger. We get one more song.  Like a shot call in a riot, or moshpit, we get chemically compounded by octane with C8H18 as the Gasoline flows.

(Due to severe illness Maria Brink and In This Moment were unable to perform on Sunday January 12 at Bogart’s. The show was made free, and Before the Mourning, All Hail the Yeti, Devour the Day and Butcher Babies performed as scheduled. In This Moment rescheduled for February 3rd with tickets honored.)