Even though Canadian punk band METZ has just one studio album to their name, Wednesday night they tore through the Troubadour in West Hollywood like hardened veterans. Having already rocked through the European and East Coast legs of their 2013 tour, the trio was poised and confident, foregoing a written set list in favor of a performance that felt both raw and intimate at the same time. Opening for METZ were Mrs. Magician and White Lung — two guitar-driven groups whose music played like the compost bin of past rock greats.
When the headliner took the stage, the audience was still reeling from the visceral onslaught of White Lung. During the opening one-two punch of “Dirty Shirt” and “Knife in the Water,” most onlookers seemed content with tapping feet and bobbing heads, rocking out in their own personal spaces as lead vocalist Alex Edkins proceeded to douse himself in sweat and bottled water within five minutes of strumming the first chord.
For those unfamiliar with the Canadians’ sound, its all-out mayhem all the time — their self-titled debut could easily fuel a marathon runner if spun on repeat. Their crazed build-up of energy, along with the cramped standing room-only layout of the Troubadour, meant that any sense of personal space was bound to disappear once the right song came along.
On this particular night, that song was “Get Off,” the gnarled, pulsing jackhammer of a romp that METZ shot through in what seemed like double time. As the opening riff began to charge up the song’s brutal friction, the crowd grew visibly antsy. Then, the moment Edkins’ voice hit the pavement, the over-packed crowd erupted into shoving and flailing that lasted through the remainder of the set.
“Get Off” was a great indicator of the METZ’ overall onstage feel: it burned twice as bright, but only lasted half as long. After about an hour of their ecstatic all-in performance, METZ announced the last song of the night, signaling a sad reminder that for all their energy, these guys only have one album of material under their belt. The audience let out in unison “aww,” and bassist Chris Slorach, who was clearly having a blast, reassured the crowd that there’s more METZ to come. This wasn’t “for the fans” pandering — Slorach himself looked genuinely disappointed that they didn’t have more stuff to rock out to. This unhinged enthusiasm is at the heart of METZ’ live act, and when it comes to their grungy brand of noise rock, an hour of full tilt trumps three hours of crowd-pleasers any day.
The San Diego-based Mrs. Magician, with its tendency towards Billie Joe Armstrong vocalisms and wah wah-pedaled minor chord shenanigans, was a relatively laid-back affair. As a surf rock / ‘90s alternative crossover band, their live set did a nice job of mixing the hormone-driven angst of early Weezer with the atmospherics of Dick Dale.
White Lung, the female-fronted DIY punk group whose 2012 album Sorry drew tons of praise from the blogosphere, caught a majority of audience members off guard. With their massive stage presence, the band’s breakneck stage antics garnered open-mouthed stares and clearly audible “holy shit this is good” proclamations from onlookers, mostly stemming from the volatility of blond-haired, enigmatic frontwoman Mish Way. Opening the set with a quick “R.I.P” for a fallen friend, Way’s performance felt inspired from front to back. As she thrashed and clawed her way through each song, delivering every lyric like a desperate expletive, it became pointless to ask whether her intensity was par for the course or prompted by the passing of someone close: the sheer passion poured into that short set was crystal clear, regardless of where it came from.
Josh Calixto
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