Buy The Ticket Take The Ride

I got a few messages from people after I posted what show I would be going to on Friday night saying how jealous they were that I would be spending my Friday night at The 7th Street Entry with Rifflord. Honestly, I was more excited to see local openers Murf and Dug. That being said, all of these messages got me excited but also put the pressure on. Was Rifflord going to be as cool as everyone had told me they would be? Would it truly be one of the loudest shows I would see all year, as a local musician told me? So many questions were rolling around my head as I walked into the familiar and cozy venue, but they all fell away, and I felt myself instantly getting lost in the music of the night.

I was left completely speechless the first time I saw Dug in August. Their noise-leaning experimental music caught me off guard and took me a while to warm up to. Their show felt intense and almost intimidating. That set back in August caught me so off guard that I was excited to finally have a chance to take this local duo in in all of their glory. In my mind, I knew what to expect; it wouldn’t be the same sense of surprise. I was wrong. The second they started into their quick opening set, I found myself, yet again, lost for words and just completely stranded in the palm of this group’s hand. The way these two play with silence is something that makes me oddly uncomfortable. Slow but intense drum hits were joined by, well, nothing. There was patience and restraint, yet so much intensity. When the vocals and sludgy guitar joined in with the intense drums, the intimidation didn’t go away but turned more into something of intrigue. I felt myself lowering my camera and just watching the way these two men silently cued each other in while making sure the set had this organic kind of mood. I wish I had all of the right words to describe what you get from the sound and performance of Dug, but the truth is, I just don’t, and this is one of those bands that I continue to go back and see time and time again until I find those words.

Not only was I lost for words when it came to Dug’s opening set, I was lost for words when it came to what happened next but that’s nothing new for a Murf set. This local band is chaotic, insane, and, quite frankly, a little weird, and I love it. Every time I see this band, they evolve a little bit more, and I feel like there has been a lot of evolution since the last time I saw this group. With a slightly inappropriate outfit, vocalist Dan Hoffstrom led this band’s descent into pure chaos. I really don’t even know where to start with this set. There was a giant dog head at one point, a weird femur bone or something being smashed on the stage, bassist Evan Clark lying on the stage, and…I mean, there was more, but me just laying it all out will surely make me sound crazy.

Sonically, Murf is just as chaotic as one of their live shows. Dan’s primal screams are ear piercing and, when mixed with the intense chugging and banging happening behind them, you are left with a sound that is abrasive and, at times, straight-up disrespectful but oh so perfect at the same time. What I love about this band is that, although it may seem that they are all jokes and inappropriate outfits (and even fake blood at times, but that didn’t happen on Friday), they are killer musicians. I totally understand how some people may listen to the music and think that it’s just noise, but if you like heavier music in general, you can hear the magic and talent of the players in this band loud and clear. Murf is one of those bands that I could go see night after night and not get bored with, so I warn you, this isn’t the first time I’ve written about this band, and I genuinely hope it won’t be the last.

Closing out the chaotic, intense, and sometimes intimidating show on Friday night was the almighty Rifflord. I think it’s safe to assume that all of the sounds and images that come into your mind when reading the name Rifflord are, in fact, correct. It was all hair, all heavy stoner-metal leaning riffs, and all power when it came to their set. Although it was heavy, intense, and, as the local musician had warned me, loud as all hell, there was something so perfectly curated about the set that everyone at the 7th Street Entry got on Friday night. The songs, although heavy, showed a sense of dynamics and flow that felt a bit deeper than a standard sludgy stoner metal band. The southern twang that accompanied Rifflord’s overall sound reminded me slightly of He Is Legend, but there was a bit more intensity to it and a slightly more intimidating presentation.

Although there was something larger than life about Rifflord’s set (and that’s not in reference to the way they had literally crowded the stage almost all the way to the edge with amps upon amps), there was also something super fun about their set. From the way that all of the members joked among each other and with the crowd between songs to the way there was more hair flying around the stage than there would be a wig shop being hit by a tornado (seriously, most of the band members of this group have some of the nicest hair I have ever seen), there was just something so familiar and comfortable about Rifflord’s set. I loved the fact that I felt both intimidated and thrilled by Rifflord throughout their time on stage on Friday night, and it made for the perfect way to spend my evening. By the end of the night, I could easily say that, yes, Rifflord is as cool as everyone had told me, and, yes, it was one of the loudest shows I went to all year.