I had seen Nile before at Bogart’s in Cincinnati but this was a much more intimate experience since the audience was able to get very close to the stage and the performers.

When I first saw Nile I didn’t know much about them (except that I enjoyed their records) and so for a long time I thought the tall, dark-haired man who did most of the vocals was Karl Sanders. I remember being somewhat disappointed that his stage banter consisted mainly of cheesy “How are all you fuckin’ metalheads tonight?!” shout-outs and audience pandering. I was hoping that he would be an intense cult figure who would try to convert the fans to some esoteric North African death religion.

Of course, later I learned that the tall dark-haired guy was Dallas Toler-Wade, and that the quiet blond obese guy who did occasional deep guttural vocals was actually Karl Sanders.

At the Louisville show both men looked substantially different. Dallas had shaved his head and Karl had lost a substantial amount of weight. Dallas seemed to relish the crowd’s proximity; he wasn’t just an exceptional guitarist for an exceptional band, he was a true performer who stoked and fed off the audience’s energy in an electric feedback loop.

Unlike other metal bands, Nile did not attempt to be scary or evil; they were clearly up there having fun and they wanted the rest of us to have fun too. They played a lot of the songs I was hoping they would play (they opened with “Kafir!” to the crowd’s delight) and skipped a few that I thought for sure would be on their set list (for example, they did not play the title track from their latest record). There were dozens of fans in the crowd who could chant along with the lyrics. The Lovecraft fan in me really appreciated the moments when everyone around me was hoarsely shouting “DAGON! DAGON! DAGON!” And they closed with “Black Seeds of Vengeance,” of course.

The best moment for me came immediately after the show, when it was clear that there would not be an encore. Karl Sanders remained on stage long after the lights came up, talking to fans, accepting compliments, signing autographs, and shaking hands. Behind him the roadies swiftly dismantled the towers of equipment and intimidating drum kit. Even though he had just played ferocious, incredible, technical death metal for over an hour, sweaty Karl continued to interact cheerfully with his audience.

I watched him for a few minutes. I have no idea what Karl Sanders was like as a kid, but in that short time I imagined a chubby high-school metalhead wearing a T-shirts with some obscure, illegible band name emblazoned across the chest. That kid, disgusted with the plastic world of pop music around him, dreamed of being a rock star on his own terms. After the Nile show, I saw the fulfillment of that kid’s dream on the stage. He wasn’t some creepy asshole in corpsepaint or wannabe James Hetfield; he was a metal fan spending time with other metal fans, one of the many standing on the outside and enjoying the camaraderie that their unusual interests bred. One of them. One of us.

Wurmkraut self-titled EP

One of the biggest disappointments with some recent sludgy/stoner/doom metal releases is always the vocals. There have been many times when I’ve put on a record or CD at home, at a friend’s house, or at a store’s listening station, and I’ve been really impressed with the quality of the music. I’m getting into it, I’m thinking “I’ve gotta get this,” and then the singer starts this horrible 70s arena-rock caterwaul like a drunken, horny Eddie Vedder. Ugh.

So I was very pleased with the Wurmkraut EP — not only does it have the moody, gloomy, downtuned sounds that one would expect from an excellent doom metal record, but there is no singer. The music does agood job of conjuring up mental images on its own, and the simple, creepy cover art by Chad Marquis doesn’t hurt.

There are some crusty apocalyptic tendencies on this record — I can hear hints of North Carolina Crimethinc in here — but when I’m listening to this EP, more than anything else I think to myself, “I want to see this band live.” I bet they are louder than the destruction of Dresden and twice as dramatic.

Everything about this movie is bleak. The cinematography is washed out, desaturated, virtually colorless; the characters are covered with dirt, ash, and blood; the soundtrack (by Nick Cave) resonates with despair; the plot and setting are relentlessly unromantic and ugly. This is not some macho postapocalyptic fantasy world like Mad Max; what kind of monstrous person would fantasize about living in a world like this? No vegetation. No animals. No sunlight. No clean water. No civilization. Nothing but the worst kinds of death, either painfully slow or cruelly abrupt. And this is the world in which the questions about love are asked.

People who have not experienced love will not understand the conflicting solutions presented by the father, played by Viggo Mortensen, and the mother, played by Charlize Theron. They will view the mother as a coward or a lunatic, when in fact the solution she presents is born of love, just as her husband’s is. They may see the father as cruel or unreasonable when they see the fate he deals to the thief played by Michael K. Williams (Omar from The Wire). And they may not understand why some people in this world choose family and a possible future over cannibalism and the eternal present.

The Road is emotionally wrenching. It is saved from utter despair by the thin tones of hope and love that are sounded throughout the movie like notes played on a piano inside a burning building. It is worth seeing for anyone who has struggled with questions about love and its complex demands.

Another example is in the title track. A few times in the song a choir sings the chorus “We are they whom the gods detest!” It’s so catchy and melodic that I often find myself singing it out loud while walking around.

The sinister, exotic drums & chants in “Yezd Desert Ghul Ritual in the Abandoned Towers of Silence” are another excellent example. There’s nothing remotely like “death metal” in this song, and yet it manages to be every bit as intimidating and intense as the rest of the album.

In addition, Nile is willing to slow things down quite a bit. They’ve done this on previous albums too — remember the slow doom intro to “Eat of the Dead”? — and they do it again with songs like “4th Arra of Dagon.” The lyrics read like a set of instructions written by the mad Arab, Abdul Alzhazred, supposed author of the infamous Necronomicon.

Aside from the music — which shows great variety, innovation, and technical skill, as always — what makes Nile great is their lyrical and thematic work outside the traditional imagery of death metal. Yes, there’s still quite a bit about death, demons and destruction, but it doesn’t come across as adolescent revenge fantasies or a boring-ass middle-school gross-out contest. Instead, lyricist Karl Sanders creates a vivid world unlike those of his contemporaries, much like HP Lovecraft, JK Rowling, and Philip Pullman.

If you are not particularly interested in death metal, you might want to check out Karl Sanders’ solo releases, Saurian Meditation and Saurian Exorcisms. They occupy the same imaginary space that Nile does, but they use traditional Middle Eastern instruments and electronics rather than downtuned guitars and guttural growls.

I am very much looking forward to seeing Nile perform on their 2010 US tour.

This is a stunning graphic novel that deserves to be read and re-read. It’s the eponymous story of an architect who, on his 50th birthday, is forced by circumstances to completely re-examine his life and his attitudes, specifically his arrogance and love of dualism in art, architecture, philosophy, and everywhere else. It’s full of gorgeous drawings, visual metaphors, complex ideas, and great designs.

I started this during the last week of 2009 and finished it this week; then promptly re-read it so I could linger over certain images and quotes. I will probably re-read this book several times over the next decade or so. It’s that good.