As The Streets Freeze, Cauldron Continues to Melt Faces.

I’m not sure why there is a (relative) shortage of mainstream blog coverage for traditional heavy metal. Perhaps it’s because indulging in something as genuine and fun-loving as traditional heavy metal can jeopardize one’s credibility as a cynical smart ass. At the end of the day it probably doesn’t fucking matter and some of the sites out their have done a very good job of taking time to fly the flag of heavy metal. However, as anyone reading this site probably noticed (which with my mom’s recent subscription makes 5 by my count), we’ve set out to up the ante and use this digital alter to give great and glorious praise to traditional heavy metal both classic and contemporary. Quickly, now. Slaughter the youngest of the litter lest the thunder gods kill our crops again. I went to see Cauldron at the El Corazon lounge on Monday. It was once of the most sparse shows I’ve been to recently. There were few casual concert goers on this 40 degree night; myself included, there probably about 30 people in attendance, most wearing patched vests and leather jackets. For most people, much of them non metalheads, the thought of sipping crappy domestic beer in a dark lounge while a band plays to a small crowd sounds miserable and, maybe if you’re a music scene socialite, it is. Yet, here I had one of the best concert experiences in recent memory. The music has no little part to play in that; I’m familiar with Cauldron‘s tunes, headbanged furiously, and sang along to the likes of “Into the Cauldron”, “Frozen in Fire” and “All or Nothing”. Still, there was something else. If I may once again dare to overstep my expected boundaries, I would say it was the satisfaction of knowing that on what was probably the coldest Seattle night of the year thusfar, with an 8AM next day work-start looming overhead, if a band was going to come all the way to Seattle from Ontario, Canada to play for a handful of people only then drive all the way to Edmonton to start the journey home to Toronto, I’d be damned if I didn’t drag my lazy ass out to see it. After the show, some guy asked me for a smoke as I sat shivering waiting for my roommate to pick me up. I handed him the smoke, lit it and looked up to find that it was Jason from Cauldron. He stood around for a while, chatted up a few of us outside the venue (including guys in the band Curse of the North, who’ll be featured on our Sons of Northwestern Darkness segment soon), earnestly thanked us for coming out, was happy to answer questions about his sweet custom bass and even said he’d be happy to do an interview with ShredderNet. Despite what my groggy, achy body told me in the morning, it was a great night.