Three inches of awesome
Adventure-metal band Three Inches of Blood attack the Albert
TIMOTHY BROWN STAFF
Through the front doors, through the lobby, past the man taking the money and checking IDs, past the VLTs and bar, past the stage that has seen a thousand bands, straight into the men’s bathroom, past the urinals that should all be there but aren’t and I’m as far as I can go. It’s not the longest walk from those front doors to the missing urinals, but it is definitely an interesting one. How can it not be when it’s the Albert you’re walking through, when it’s another band that you really have to see. This time it’s Three Inches of Blood: adventure metal at its finest.
By the time my roommate and I arrive, the walk has already made my ears and fingertips freeze. Glancing around at the few who have been waiting, and are still waiting, all I can see are strangers. We all want the same thing though: we want adventure metal. But we still have over three hours to kill, beer to drink, and three other bands to watch. So the waiting, drinking and watching begin.
The first to start the deafening process is Igor and the Skindiggers. They’re a local thrash punk band and they’re not terrible. The band, dressed as butchers in tuxedos with fake blood on their faces, are nothing short of ridiculous. They even come with their very own Igor. Let me elaborate: it’s some really huge guy in a mask and a caveman outfit doing back-up vocals and walking around menacingly. It’s a fun band while I finish the first beer of the night. Once the band finishes, I contemplate going out for a cigarette. Then I remember the walk here, the cold, and the uncomfortableness. So, instead, I keep drinking.
The number of strangers in the Albert has begun to grow, so naturally, we find a spot close to the stage and try to hold it for the rest of the night. The next band to grace the stage is A Javelin Reign, a grindcore/metal band from Vancouver. Not exactly my favorite genre, but they seem to be pulling it off quite well. So we stand, we watch, band flails around on stage, set ends, we continue to stand, I continue to drink. Occasionally, I make quick glances behind me and notice this once almost empty bar has been turned into a room full of people standing, drinking, and still waiting.
Now, as the night grows later and people grow drunker, we reach the band co-headlining with Three Inches of Blood, the Illuminati. They’re a southern rock band from Toronto and right from the beginning of their set, they take full presence. For a time, they almost make me forget who I came to see. Lightning-fast songs pound through the speakers as we watch three people play the shit out of their instruments, something that is always appreciated at shows like this.
By the time I’ve finished another beer, the set has ended and the band we all came to see is about to take over the stage. The crowd is growing louder. They all know what’s about to happen, and before I can even fully acknowledge the band’s presence on stage, the bar goes fucking nuts. Moments later Three Inches of Blood break into “Revenge is a Vulture.” People are moshing, yelling, singing, nodding, doing whatever they can in the limited space that they have. I finish my last beer and I decide to give up the spot that I’ve held for most of the night. Diving into the mosh pit, I become engulfed in a wave of sweat-dripping people flying towards the stage. Slammed by another group of people, I fight to push them back, everyone pushing everyone else. Out of nowhere I feel my face punching a fist; dazed, I go with it and push the nearest person.
After two more meetings with random fists and a quick breather, Three Inches of Blood announce that it’s time for that final song, that last chance for people going crazy to get crazier. People are running on stage and jumping into the crowd of moshers, people are hanging from the pipes on the ceiling and then falling back down into a crowd who, with all this built up energy and excitement, would frighten most families. The final song of the night is, of course, their most popular, “Deadly Sinners.” I once again am being tossed around like a rag-doll and in turn am trying to do as much damage as possible to anyone who comes near me. Now, with the set finished, slightly hurt, out of breath, ears ringing, and kind of drunk, my roommate and I leave the bar and head for home. We got what we came for: adventure metal at its finest. Three Inches of Blood.
