Black Dahlia & Annotations Of An Autopsy: Barfly, Liverpool

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Little girls grunting amid whirlpools of sweaty bodies, what’s not to love about death metal, asks Jean Paul Skullfuck?


CHUG-CHUG-CHUG-BLAST-BLAST-BLAST-GURGLE-GURGLE-GURGLE.
Nope, it aint the sound of a student’s bowel movement, it’s an intense night of death metal at Liverpool’s Barfly.
Death metal has been, for the most part, virtually ignored commercially. Most people cannot fathom the intense guitar riffing, complex time signatures and guttural vocals.
For me, the key to enjoying this difficult, but widely misunderstood genre of music is to approach it with an extremely open mind and the willingness to have fun. Sure, you won’t hear the most intellectually stimulating lyrics about existential nihilism or liberal humanism but who even needs lyrics beyond an unholy grunt when you just want to have a laugh?
After arriving late, we entered the Barfly’s loft just in time to catch Annotations of an Autopsy.
The five piece from Lowestoft play a bludgeoning mix of metalcore and death metal with a frontman who looks like a cross between Herman Munster and Buster Bloodvessel (although I wouldn’t say this to his face).
After around 40 minutes of unholy cacophony and a crowd ready for a full scale riot, the band left the stage to a thunderous applause and a few causalities.
It’s hard not to be impressed with the super tight skill and dexterity the young mob display. Then again, who wouldn’t be impressed with songs about gore, death, mutilation and sodomy?
By far the most outstanding moment of their set was the small girl stood to my right doing her finest death grunt throughout the chaos. Hails!
Although Annotations seem to have whipped the place into a frenzy, the crowd are undoubtedly here to see one band.
As Detroit’s Black Dahlia Murder take to the stage and burst into action the whole room seems to explode into a surge of violence and head-banging.
Ripping through numbers from their new album, Nocturnal, the five-piece have their devotees flailing and screaming all over the tightly-packed venue leaving frontman Trevor Strnad with a smile on his face.
The tumultuous whirlpool of bodies only intensifies when fan favourite, What a Terrible Night to Have a Cursed is unleashed on the baying crowd.
By 11.30pm most of the crowd seem exhausted and after all is screamed and done, it seems The Black Dahlia Murder have left everybody with sore necks and ringing ears.

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