To say that METZ puts on a high energy show is utterly true, but it’s also obvious and unspecific. It’s obvious because the style of music METZ plays necessitates a lot of power. The drumming of Hayden Menzies is sudden and noticeably in-your-face. Whether the dissonant sounds coming from Alex Edkins’ guitar and Chris Slorach’s bass are fast and crunchy or simple and repetitive two note melodies, they have a brutality to them that could elicit fist pumping from your average mild-mannered Metrobus driver. When Edkins sings rather than shouts, he does so with the familiar punk vocal waver of early Jello Biafra or Keith Morris. METZ is often compared to Bleach-era Nirvana, but the band also runs sonically close to Austin’s wild The Jesus Lizard, a fact that is more obvious in a live setting when the guitar and bass sound fuller-bodied and less tinny than they do on record. Of course this band is high energy.
What separates METZ from other acts with a love of post-hardcore is their specific frequency of energy. Unlike The Jesus Lizard, there is no swagger of any kind coming from any member of the Toronto trio. Edkins and Slorach don’t hesitate to climb on the monitors or swing their instruments around, but they do so more out of a sense of succumbing to the wildness of the songs than of any desire to show off. There is a sense of community-building energy (at one point, seeing the intensity of the sudden mosh pit, Edkins told the crowd to dance but to take care of each other), but theirs is not a banter-heavy set based on building love through rock n roll. Indeed the most telling moments of their personalities came at the end of the set. During “Wasted,” Edkins urged the fans, “Put your hands up. Everyone. Put ’em up!” It didn’t lead to some bombastic choral moment—there really weren’t any of those—I think he just wanted to see everyone get up on his level. His level was made particularly clear during closer “Wet Blanket.” He bobs his head, hops around and waves his own arms. In short, he behaves exactly like the people enjoying the music in the pit in front of him. It’s no wonder that Edkins dedicated “The Mule” to the city of D.C. He is a fan of this style of music and he gets off on the wild guitar sounds as much as the people in the pit.
One of the people in the audience was Bully drummer Stewart Copeland (no, not THAT Stewart Copeland). Bully was a fitting opener, since the band was also highly energetic, but did not bring on quite the onslaught that METZ did. Singer Alicia Bognanno’s voice was often raw and strained, but she could bring it into a clear belt for the high notes on songs like “Trying.” For all of the grit, there was a clear pop influence that was clear as fellow guitarist Clayton Parker and bassist Reece Lazarus bobbed and bounced on the sides of the stage. Due to the quality of Bognanno’s voice Bully has received no shortage of (perhaps unfair) Hole comparisons, but in case there was any question as to who inspired their sound, Bully pulled out a cover of Mclusky’s “No New Wave No Fun,” and crushed it. It was clear that some of the people in the crowd were only there to see Bully, because within the opening chords of every song off of their debut album, the front of the room went into a riotous cheer.
