Hailing from Stockholm, Sweden, where they have been a mainstay of the metal scene for nearly two decades, Opeth peddled their doom-laden musical wears at the Pageant last Monday, Oct. 13.
Their music is an acquired taste; too thoughtful and eerily romantic (think Edgar Allen Poe, not Nicholas Sparks) for the more volume nihilistic metal-heads, and (with the exception of one record) far too deafening for those whose tastes do not run harder than Aerosmith.
Musically, Opeth is hard to categorize. In the first phase of their career, which spanned the opening half of the 1990s, they played pretty close to their roots in the Scandinavian Death Metal scene.
However, they are often also categorized under the banner of Doom Metal, Melodic Metal and various other subgenres.
As their sound evolved, it became clear that something else was going on. True, they offered growling vocals, driving percussion work and dark lyrics.
But Opeth also revealed a more progressive side, aligning themselves with the Progressive Metal explosion that grew out of 70s and 80s bands like Rush and Kansas and spawned current favorites like Dream Theater, who toured with Opeth last year.
Opeth fits this bill more than a standard Death Metal label due to its frequent inclusion of 10-plus minute songs, complex and spontaneous mid-track rhythm changes, and sprawling keyboard, drum and guitar solos.
Their songs often feature passages flavored with blues, prog-rock, folk and jazz stylings.
Breaking completely from genre, the group released "Damnation" in 2003, an entirely thunder-free and often acoustic album with clean vocals and guitars.
This marked the group's debut on the Billboard Top 200, albeit near the bottom. Their latest record, "Watershed," debuted at number 23, impressive for a band whose name elicits an array of confused facial expressions when mentioned to John or Jane Doe.
Regardless of their chart-scaling endeavors, Opeth has been a well-beloved fixture with a die-hard following for many years. The Pageant was packed as fans eagerly waited through two warm-up bands, Baroness and Fire on High.
The opening acts served their purpose of initiating the audience into a roaring aural atmosphere and getting everyone satisfyingly energized without (especially in Baroness' case) stealing any of Opeth's thunder. By the time both acts were finished people were chanting, screaming and begging. Soon, they were appeased.
Opeth's five members took the stage and geared up, roaring right into their first track, which, like the first handful of songs, was from their new record, "Watershed."
Lead singer Mikael Akerfeldt, the only member of Opeth who goes back to its 1990 founding, spoke to the audience between songs in his thick Swedish accent.
In tones incongruously polite for the setting, Akerfeldt made self-deprecating comments and offered anecdotes about how there is nothing to do in Sweden but be in a metal band.
The music was fast and ferocious and the sentiments dark and brooding.
Before playing a fan-favorite from "Still Life," Akerfeldt smilingly announced, "Back when we made this album we were a little cocky and thought we were philosophically superior to other metal bands," pronouncing "thought" like "taught" and stressing his "I" sounds.
Some of Opeth's albums, such as 1999's "Still Life," are lyrically-ambitious concept albums that tell a mist-shrouded tale of doomed love and death in settings comprised of shadowy lakes, eerie twilights and, of course, murder.
These feelings were evoked throughout the night as Opeth played bathed in smoky blue and blood red lighting.
At several points in the show, the front row of the audience dipped their heads and waved both arms up and down in worshipful motions.
Many of these audience members had traveled far to hear their favorite group.
They were not disappointed and it is hard to imagine that anyone would be watching such a skilled, poetically minded, experimental metal band weave their special, melodic magic.
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