Type O Negative formed four years ago, after the demise of Steele’s former group, Carnivore. There’s a dark, gothic tone here, with thrashing guitars and growling vocals, but there are also some nice harmonies that you’d never expect to hear. Probably the easiest way to describe it is as a combination of The Sisters of Mercy and the Beatles. Peter doesn’t seem too concerned with the promotion side of making music, and he doesn’t pretend to.īut the music on the New York band’s new LP, “Bloody Kisses,” manages to speak for itself with its wide variety of styles incorporated into an eclectic sound. He explains that he is trying to speak with a wide variety of magazines to make up for this, yet he answers in short, often one-sentence responses that reveal little insight. During the course of a telephone interview, the singer/bassist openly puts down his record company (Roadrunner Records) for pushing his music on the metal market even though it would appeal to a much wider audience. But Type O Negative leader Peter Steele puts up no such pretenses. To that nifty effect I say: too little, too late.When bands do interviews to talk about their music it’s always hard to tell whether they’re being completely honest or just putting up a front to sell records and make their label happy. Sure, machines pelted out real snow during “To Late: Frozen.” And he did.īut come on, I couldn’t help but expect a better stage show from a band that dwells on fleshy cultish imagery. Lithe and slinky-sexy, Randall was eye candy comparatively as he cavorted and caroused through electronic-flecked industrial tunes.Īs for the rest of Type O, only guitarist Kenny Hickey was free to romp. Guitar slung from his shoulder by a chain, he performed with an icy detachment, moving no more than two steps from the microphone. Still, the band muddled through admirably with Randall endearing himself to the audience with quips like, “God, it’s hard to look cool when (stuff) like that happens.”Īs for Type O Negative’s stage show, Steele seemed to live up to his last name in the worst sense of the word. A flying leap off a riser found him breaking one of the floor boards that he later nearly tripped over. The strap holding up another guitar continually came undone, forcing him finally to give up playing. Frontman Chris Randall lost two strings on his guitar midsong. Sister Machine Gun’s set was rife with stage problems. Hailing from Sweden, the musicians powered their way through guitar-heavy songs like “Stench” with a swaggering masculinity. Saturday’s noisefest opened with the four-woman metal band Drain. It felt as if the music would bust out of the building in much the way Steele’s gargantuan pecs and biceps would have busted out of a shirt - had he been wearing anything more than a tank top. “Christian Woman” and “Love You to Death” were performed with some of the dulcet subtlety that makes the band’s CDs so creepy-cool to listen to.Īnd in all fairness, The Met seemed a bit small for Type O Negative’s sound. Not that the music didn’t have its moments. Josh Silver’s keyboarding is a sweetly somber addition.īut such gems were buried for the most part Saturday by overwrought din. Steele’s sultry baritone often resembles the low rumble of a thunderhead. With songs like “Green Man,” “Red Water” and “Christian Woman,” the band members managed to expose their soft underbelly without betraying the scaly-hard exterior that metal fans love. It’s too bad, really, because the band’s most recent releases, “Bloody Kisses” and “October Rust,” are executed with a craftiness that proves a twist of melody can make a good metal band great. Neil Young himself said, of the 12 versions of ‘Cinnamon Girl’ he’s heard, this was one of the worst,” Steele quipped. But with all subtlety abandoned, heavier songs like “Prelude to Agony” and “Kill All the White People” bled into something akin to a buzz saw.Įven usual crowd-pleasers like “My Girlfriend’s Girlfriend” seemed to mire the audience in a hammered daze.Īnd when Type O Negative plowed through Neil Young’s “Cinnamon Girl,” it did so with all the artfulness of a lawn mower. Only the music part got lost somewhere in the tumult.įronted by singer/bassist Peter Steele, this metal-rooted band walloped the crowd with thick, grinding guitar riffs and darkly pagan imagery. During a sold-out show at The Met Saturday, the four-man Gothic rock band from Brooklyn seemed to forgo everything it learned about finesse while making its last two albums and instead relied on unremitting, untempered music muscle. In the end, Type O Negative’s power was its undoing.
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