MUSIC: In Flames set fire to the House of Blues
Back in the day, the notion of melodic death metal seemed like a contradiction in terms, you know, like jumbo shrimp or a funny Wayans brother.
But then Sweden’s In Flames came through and changed all that, pioneering the Gothenburg sound (heart-racing guitar harmonies that leaven the gruffness of guttural growls plus lots of big, fist-in-the-air choruses), which took its name from the band’s hometown.
At last count, approximately 11,367 acts have shamelessly aped the style since the band emerged close to 20 years ago now (we’re looking directly at you, Darkest Hour).
At the House of Blues on Sunday, In Flames, pictured at right, offered a primer in just how much the Gothenburg aesthetic has grown in recent years.
Much to the chagrin of some old-school die-hards, the band’s tunes have become increasingly radio friendly of late, the hooks more outsized, though the riffs continue to whiz by like errant gunfire and In Flames frontman Ander Friden still sounds like a grizzly trying to chew its leg free from a bear trap.
But he also sings in increasingly rousing fashion, as well, and when the band tore into a song like “Mirror’s Truth,” the first single from their latest album, “A Sense of Purpose,” it sounded like the kind of climactic moment that In Flames has spent years building toward.
There still was plenty from the band’s cast-iron back-catalog to satisfy the purists — tuneful thrash heart attack “Pinball Map” still makes the blood boil — but clearly this bunch has moved beyond the monochromatic nature of some of its earlier works, no matter how righteously concussive and influential they still might be.
Onstage, it all comes together like a fist to the jaw: The guitars feel more muscular, the rhythms are forceful enough to dislodge vertebrae and the melodies crest like high tide.
Speaking of hard-hitting, it felt like it was raining tire irons when France’s Gojira took the stage earlier in the night (New England’s All That Remains and Alaska’s 36 Crazyfists, a pair of dull and duller metalcore acts, also played).
Like Mastodon — in modus operandi, if not sound — Gojira embeds technically challenging arrangements into surprisingly digestible tunes that belie the complexity that drives them.
Whipping their long manes about in furious arcs, hunched over at the knees like invisible anvils were crushing their backs, the band raced through 35 minutes of thinking man’s malevolence.
The band’s latest disc, “The Way of All Flesh,” is one of the better metal albums of the year, catchy, coarse and convoluted all at once.
Live, the band’s set ended way too fast, especially considering the fact that, at times, it was hard for the crowd to figure out whether to bang their heads or scratch them.
