Everyone’s favorite experimental drone, doom, and black metal wonders Locrian are on tour right now. The band decided they wanted to give some of our readers a glimpse into what it looks like when a band like Locrian go on tour, so they wrote up a handful of tour diaries about their time on the road. Check it out, and allow yourself to live vicariously through the band’s adventures.
Detroit, MI 07/28 w/ Mission to the Sun + A Death Cinematic @ Sanctuary
Canadian television was full of violence broadcast on every channel, excruciating hours of torture beamed into the night receivers of the hotel. Stupefying murders and executions in slow motion. Next channel, mass graves set to a detuned Bruce Cockburn discography. Next channel, masked interrogations of political Canadian dissidents being forced to listen to Arcade Fire where Win Butler’s voice had been replaced with AI but lyrically enhanced. On another channel, middle-aged Canadians in hunting gear deep throat the barrels of their favorite firearms with in-depth interviews where voices are buried in delay. Plotless and over-produced, one channel just shows blood exiting an abattoir in slow-motion and is silent.
Welcome to London, Ontario, the Civic Motel at 3 a.m.
After a restless sleep, I wake up and wander the sprawling tesseract of a hotel, layers upon layers of the same windowless corridors. I want to check on the van. I meander through the bright white overlit space, each turn reflecting the last like a maze of inhuman hospitality. The van is fine; I wake up my bandmates, and we make our attempt to escape Canada.
At the border, lines of cars backed up, refugees fleeing the multiple Canadian conflicts queued for entry. Our van with its Maryland plates was waved to the front; the guard took our passports, asked us what we were doing in Canada:
“Playing shows.”
“At this time?” He asked, scanning our passports on his holographic device. “What kind of music do you play.”
We laughed to ourselves an uncomfortable laugh.
“Heavy metal—”
“Like Brand of Sacrifice; I love Slaughter to Prevail.”
“Kind of,” I say. He hands us back our passports as the military vehicles swarm around the checkpoint.
“Are you playing in Detroit?”
“Yes.”
“Be careful. Now, I can let you pass, but only if you play me a song.”
Andre plays “Eternal Return” for him.
“Turn it up.” He commands. We do.
“I like this. Have a good show; be safe.”
The Ambassador Bridge is covered in millions of eyes, both ones we can see and invisible sensors. Millions of eyes, watching our every turn and move, reading our vehicle and biometric data. We spiral down to Detroit on the curves of overpasses.
Sanctuary was once within a church; now it is within a bar. We sound check—no visuals at this place. Apparently a gang of mutants stole the projector from the ceiling to fund a start-up that turns regular sunglasses into mutant disguising equipment with an optic chain. Our friend Stephanie, who designed and screen-printed the poster for the show, guides us to a great Yemeni restaurant where we gorge on excellent humus. The sky is the color of a camera lens, always on. America.
Back at the venue, A Death Cinematic has conquered the entire floor of the space with his lengthy chains of pedals behind elaborate wooden scrims and boxes. His face hidden behind a cycloptic mask of feathers; he unleashes a massive drone in fog a bright light to evade capture.
Mission to the Sun are a duo, one set to the electronics and light programming and the other as a confessor – chanting into the effects set to an industrial rhythm. Haunting and dark, mechanical and human, these mutants shock beyond all capabilities and avoid detection.
Our set was fine; we were exposed and not hidden. However, that is not new, since we entered back into the states where all is seen, collected, stored, shared, and regurgitated.
Milwaukee, WI 07/29 w/ Sleepersound + Ashamed + Nicholas Elert @ X-Ray Arcade
I have no voice, and I must scream. I have no greater fear than losing my voice. Being the vocalist in a band hinges on having a voice, especially in one that skirts the edges of metal like Locrian. In the past, I would often lose my voice on tour, normally about halfway through. I could force it and do further damage, but I couldn’t talk or carry on a conversation. That was my fear for this year. However, I set up a good regiment to retain my voice:
One, the set. Our Locrian set is divided between songs I sing (to the best of my abilities) and scream. That does help.
Two, hydrate. Drink water all day, before bed, when I wake up, between other beverages. When the venue provides you with water-bottles, make sure they end up in the van. If anyone complains about you using the bathroom—There’s a reason were not an instrumental-metal band.
Three, do not talk during other bands with anyone. Go outside or ask to wait. Don’t shout over a band. You will regret it, and no one has anything important enough to say to shout over a band. I actually found going towards bands playing helped. Even if I didn’t care for the band, the closer you get, the less people want to engage you.
Four, do not sell merch; let another bandmate handle it. You will shout and strain over the din of the venue and will hurt your voice.
Five, tea. It feels good. Hot tea. Honey. Lemon. Throat Coat. Honestly anything. Morning or before the show or after.
Six, whiskey. I ask for rye in the rider. My wife taught me this one; just before you’re about to go on, sip something you like. Neat or with ice. I’m not a scientist, but it opens me up.
Seven, limit alcohol, or the alcohol given to bands. A case of beer is not the best for your voice. Hold off. I would save something for after the show or during the set with water. Decide before you arrive. Remember it is a diuretic and will make you lose hydration.
Eight, warm up. I do two things. One, breath work, just big, deep breaths, slow in and slow out (also helps with anxiety). Second, I sing, try and sing a song in your range, sing along to something, sing one of your own songs. I would practice with Screaming Trees “I Nearly Lost You” for my upper and Alice in Chains “Would?” for my lower; they’re songs I like, I can sing, and work for me. Even when I couldn’t nail them, it still would feel better and let me know where my voice was that day.
Nine, eucalyptus throat lozenges. Before and after the show.
Ten, rest, sleep, nap. In the van, in the venue, in a bed, on the floor, on a couch.
Somehow I still had a voice as we rolled in to X-Ray Arcade. My plans and tactics had worked. I had a voice; I could still sing and scream and all of my haunted dreams of having no voice were not to come to fruition. I was relieved. We were in time for sound check. The venue had a projector.
Across these cities, silent sirens rang out. To some it was a beacon, and to others a warning.
Nicholas Elert, soundman and former Northless member, started the night off with a thick throb of synth. Ashamed, a local trio, played a heavier shoegaze interpretation that recalled True Widow. And Sleepersound, another Milwaukee trio, delivered a shimmery dreampop set. Our set was bolstered by visuals, and the presence of friends. It had been almost 13 years since we’d played Milwaukee at the Cactus Club for the first Utech Records Fest. And even longer when we debuted as a trio at the Milwaukee Noise Fest at the Borg Ward. It was nice to be back.
Everyone fled home, covering their ears to avoid the oppressive silence of the klaxons, we returned to the Utech Records Factory to hatch plans and rest.
Indianapolis, IN 07/30 w/ Shipwreck Karpathos + Chromarama + Off/Normal + Flatliner @ Black Circle
Indianapolis, the final city that we have never played in. <EDITOR’S NOTE: This section of the text is extremely difficult to parse, consisting of unbroken codes – scripto continua – and symbols. We have done our best to decipher the meaning and interpret the original intent of this entry; however, it is possible that it was a group hallucination.>
///////////////Bloomington________________^ Greencastle (?) – before time – current::: cities on fire, the burning towers of northern (Indiana – ?- ) spinninginthedullmorninglight—————^missedsoundcheck (shit) OOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooooooo
>>>>the city is surrounded_the roads full of burning vehicles_the sun(O)relentless_unsetting_fire
>>>>>>>>venue:inaccessible – trapped on roads – full – FLATLINER: vomiting noise – alone – heat and dull flames. OFF/NORMAL – nice – great gear – unrelenting wind <> CHROMARAMA – member departing this Earth, entire city to say farewell. Technical —- SHIPWRECK KARPATHOS – one million guitarists_actually three_no voice<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<silence. Only the sound of synthetic flames on the horizon. (?)
>>>>>>>>>>>>>Every guitar at this show was melted down into M16s for the war effort<<<<<<<<<<<
[Fried monitors, fried ears] (Editor’s Note: This section is unintelligible nonsense but perhaps is describing LOCRIAN’s set.) blastednoisecacophanydeafnessreignstheendquititallnow… (etc. this goes on for pages, often repeating itself – we think – here is a small sample.) noiseinthedesertthewallsofsoundampconesmeltingfacesdisintegratinginthedeadlightofsoundvoidsopeningathheendtheendtheendtoomanypedalsandfeedbackglorioudfeedbackbeforetheshiftingwallsandheavenlydrumscymbalsandampfabrictearingintheeveningglowindianapolisthiscityasaportaltosomewhereburningkillingmusicandsoundvoicesscreeintheairthescreamofatonalscryingbeforethedeadnightthecitythewallsbleedtheblackofsoundandthecontortionsoftheaudiencefuckhomophobiafoldintothespaceconetweakersampsniffersandfriedelectronicstorndrumheadsrentuselessthemetalhardwaremelteddowntoonedensecubeofsilence….etc.
{Video projection as large as a house (indecipherable) as a portal for silence and rest. At night the glitched flames die and the projected city is chilled by digital embers.}
END
Chicago, IL 07/31 w/ ASEETHE + BOTTOMED @ Cobra Lounge
Chicago, to me, is a city of ghosts and visions. As I drive through it, I see holograms reflecting the past, the old avenues and buildings I knew overtop the glimmering lines of the past and the solid specters of the future. Every street, every building of my past life reflects this shell of what it was over what it has become. Thus are the ghosts of gentrification, building and tearing down and rebuilding, erasing who you once were in a city you no long reside in.
The day before I left on tour a picture popped up in social media from my last night as a resident of Chicago, 13 years ago, in a neighborhood fundamentally changed: my family, smaller, smiling into the camera as we embark on our next journey to Baltimore. The world moves on, but in Chicago, the auras of the past linger, haunting my memory of what the spaces were with the uncanny spirit of what is.
The Cobra Lounge was not the first place that Locrian played in Chicago but was a place we did play before it became a brewery, when it was just a bar and venue. All around, the walls rippled their shimmering holograms of the past against the current lines of the present. That said, we get in on time, early even, start loading in, and get read to sound check.
Given all of the turmoil from Canada to Chicago, we were unsure what our homecoming reception would be, an audience of ghosts, a room of flies, an empty room. No idea. After inquiring, it is revealed that the venue does not have a projector; apparently Mizmor’s audience took it out of the ceiling to project the recent past upon the streets outside after their mesmerizing set, carrying it off down the street. So, I send out a request on social media for a projector and multiple people respond. I get one in time.
Aseethe starts of the night with a massive moving wall of punishing doom, the air moving around the venue, it is so loud. The air moving around the amps swallows the drums. Just massive epic crushing doom. Excellent.
Bottomed is Nick from Bongripper and is his bass-heavy electronic solo outing. The entire place is full of fog and two sweeping lights near his gear—The walls and floor shudder in the bass. The air is full and vibrating all around the audience that has slowly filled up Cobra Lounge. It’s an intense experience with some great stops and starts and low-frequency stutters.
By now the venue is full, so many friends and faces. We get everything set up for the last set. The video splays across us on the stage in its glitchy, black-and-white lines. The set goes great, and there’s this feeling with each song of something being lost. This is the last time we will play this, and then its gone. I rarely look out at the audience, but they, too, seem stuck in the video, covered in the shells of other ghosts, too big for their skins, blocky other people long gone shimmering in the memory fog of returning home.
During the set I mentioned our first show at The Mutiny, a venue now shut down. I see it when I say it. It was a dive, but it was what had Andre and I start Locrian. And then that vision is gone, like so many things.
After we play our set, we get to hang out a bit. All of our old friends, new fans, fans from Arizona and Louisiana who flew in for this show. It’s humbling and a fitting way to end the tour. We stay and talk for too long, as if circling back to farewells will prolong the night. Eventually we load up the van, say our final goodbyes, and drive Steven to his practice space in Chicago. The streets are a shifting, holographic mesh of the past and the present, vacant buildings now prominent breweries, coffee roasters. All these contemporary visions competing in layers with the past, shifting in glitches and flutters.
We help Steven unload his gear and bring him home, saying farewell. And then we hit the road. Blasting Def Leppard’s “On Through the Night,” Andre and I watch the city erase itself again and reconstruct its skyline over and over as if we were never here on this great frontier of nowhere and set our back east to our new homes, and new lives in new cities.
Locrian’s new album from earlier this year is called End Terrain, and you can order it form Profound Lore Records. Follow Locrian on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter for future updates.
All photos provided by Locrian
