I’ve never been to Royale before. The place is more nightclub than concert venue—two statues flank the entrance, a bust of Julius Caesar stands behind the main bar and gold couches dot the entire room—and yet, here I was, waiting to see Converge play the last show of their tour.
As the band was sound-checking, lead singer Jacob Bannon was on one side of the stage. He looked nervous, or at least agitated, and he kept pacing back and forth, occasionally stopping to jump in place. Then all of a sudden, he bounded across the stage, grabbed his microphone and yelled “Alright, let’s go!” The band immediately kicked into “Concubine” and didn’t let up from there.
I’ve been to a fair amount of punk and hardcore shows in my (pretty short) lifetime. I have never seen a crowd respond like this. The crowd stage dove, moshed and screamed its collective heart out for the entirety of the show. People were flying and pushing and jumping every which way. Between songs, Bannon said that this was the best Boston show the band had ever played. He’s probably right.
Bannon is a rare specimen of a frontman. At 36, he’s incredibly energetic—he jumped, he ran across the stage, he swung his mic like a lasso. He expertly dealt with the swarth of kids climbing onto the stage, which makes sense, given his 20 years as a hardcore frontman (Credit to the Royale here—most clubs would have not handled the amount of stage diving and moshing going on at the show). He also possesses an incredible ability to go from inhuman screaming monster to soft-spoken, gracious guy in the space of about five seconds. The difference between Bannon’s speaking voice and his typical singing voice is downright strange.
I’d be remiss to write about Converge without mentioning Kurt Ballou. I know that I’ve mentioned time and time again just how skilled a musician the man is, but it’s unbelievable. Ballou is the only guitarist in the band, and somehow he’s able to translate his material from record to stage without missing anything. I didn’t think it was possible for so much noise to come from one guitar. I actually kind of expected the band to have two guitarists. It’s incredible. I have no idea how he does it.
Material-wise, the band played a pretty varied set. They played eight of All We Love’s 14 tracks and sampled just about every other album in their catalog. My personal highlight was “Dark Horse,” and I can only imagine how happy the diehards were when they brought out “The Saddest Day” for their encore.
I mentioned in my album review that Converge’s music—brutal and atonal as it can be—possesses some kind of inherent beauty. If anyone took my advice and tried to listen to All We Love, they probably thought I was totally insane. People would think me less crazy, I believe, if they actually saw the band live. This was my first time seeing them, and it was an absolutely life affirming experience. There was a sense of exuberance in the crowd rarely seen at concerts, let alone a hardcore show. Which isn’t to say this was somehow not a hard-hitting, brutal show. My left ear is still ringing 24-hours later, which is probably a bad sign. And yet, despite the depressing nature of the music, and despite my probable ear damage, I left the show with a great sense of joy. I can’t wait to see Converge again.
