Cannibal Corpse Corps

YOU KNOW WHAT doesn't fit in at a Cannibal Corpse concert? Madras. It's been one of the few miserably hot days of this summer, and the crowd outside of the B.B. King Blues Club & Grill is collectively clad in basic black. At least it's mainly shorts and t-shirts (Cradle of Filth, Internal Bleeding, other candidates for a Late Show Top 10 list), although some concertgoers are discreetly clad in camouflage fatigues. Maybe they're worrying about problems at the laundry, but it's been a few decades since madras has had a problem with the colors running.

But I can certainly tell you what fits in perfectly at a Cannibal Corpse concert-that guy at the corner of 42nd and 7th holding up the sign that reads, "The End At Hand." I'm forced to walk through Times Square way too often in any given week, and I can't recall the last time that I've seen a classic character holding up any variation on "The End Is Nigh."

That's keeping it real. In that same spirit, there's no longer any sense in goofing on Cannibal Corpse playing B.B. King's. For one thing, the club's offering a $5 special on beer in cans. That'll take care of some of the culture shock. Also, we have to simply accept that B.B. King's-which is typically priced for expense accounts-has become a leading punk/metal venue. Anti-Flag's played there, and they didn't even care that the place uses Ticketmaster.

B.B. King's still isn't hip, though. Otherwise, they would've insisted on rescheduling A.R.E. Weapons for this night of fine death metal. Instead, Cannibal Corpse is getting some competition from the Black Dahlia Murder. They're one of those great bands out of Detroit that don't quite rate coverage in Spin. That's unfortunate, since vocalist Trevor Strnad runs the true death metal gamut of A to B-specifically, easily alternating between the standard Cookie Monster growl to a high-pitched shriek worthy of Ronnie James Dio.

They also do a fine job of representing last year's Unhallowed on stage. New guy Zach Gibson even manages to improve on original drummer Cory Grady's impressively hectic style with plenty of showy moments. It's not easy to find death metal drummers who even attempt to get a little showy-as illustrated when I later tell Zach how it's nice that prog-rockers have somewhere to play besides Genesis tribute acts.

"I appreciate that, man, but I'm really just a simpleton."

"You know that you're much busier than most death metal drummers."

"Well, yeah. Yeah!"

He's a simpleton, but it's not like he's a death metal drummer.

Meanwhile, in-house bluesman Jon Paris has caught metal fever with an unusually abrasive set on the stage of Lucille's. The restaurant is downstairs next to B.B. King's concert stage, so there's little comfort there for parents sitting out the all-ages show.

Those include a nice older couple from the death metal capital of Norway. They're now taking refuge by the coat check, waiting for their 16-year-old who was plenty thrilled to find Cannibal Corpse on a marquee while strolling Times Square. My own 16-year-old self would've been a lot more thrilled to see a Lucio Fulci film advertised on a Times Square marquee, but times change. Besides, both rely on maggots for visual flair.

Cannibal Corpse also outdoes PiL by performing behind a curtain of human hair-or at least that's true for most of the band. One of them now sports a shaved head. It's still an impressive look, mainly because they'll all spend the show twirling their heads around in circles. Lead singer George Fisher is especially impressive as he perpetually spins his mighty mane. I've got an infant son at home, so I know how tiring it is to spin your head around to entertain kids. They should consider just jangling their car keys for a few hours.

The band opens with?well, who the hell knows? Cannibal Corpse is a really great act, but there's no denying that they've spent a long career writing short intros for the same grinding song. Get the editors at Kerrang! to cut me a paycheck, and I'll go into great detail about the mysteries of dual-harmonizing and detuning. Otherwise, let's not pretend that Cannibal Corpse hasn't been thriving on a serious surly sameness ever since that early learning curve.

This isn't to say that the band's dedicated fanbase ever gets confused. Their third song must be a true standard, judging from how the crowd goes wild. Later, Fisher announces, "This one is for all the ladies out there-you know which one it is, don'tcha?" The crowd goes wild.

Hopefully, the song is "Addicted to Vaginal Skin." Something like "Fucked With a Knife" just wouldn't be appropriate-especially since the death metal crowd can claim a roster of hot gals like I've seldom seen at other shows. These dames don't age well, but it's a fairly spectacular look while they're young. Nice mix, too, including one large African-American goth gal who definitely should get out more.

The most impressive thing is how Cannibal Corpse still plays like a bunch of morons who met in the smoking area last week. These guys have a box set and have been touring nonstop since 1990, and yet they still have to hold a quick band meeting between each song. Maybe the idea is to always sound like the humble goofballs who originally came stumbling out of upstate New York.

Cannibal Corpse is certainly still proud to be on the fringe. The new single off of The Wretched Spawn is set up thusly: "You have seen the video?oh, I know you haven't, because it isn't getting played." For that matter, I can't remember the last time that I've seen a genuine pit at a show. I doubt that I've missed similar action just because I hung back from the stage at, say, a Raveonettes concert.

Death metal types are sincere in their moshing, too. One guy is maybe 50 years old and slugging it out in there. There's also collateral damage at the back of the bar, with the occasional kid nursing a wound with an improvised ice bag.

The fellow with that "The End At Hand" poster would appreciate the scene. Too bad that the proud representative of Jocob's Ministry turned down my offer of a free show that would be genuinely apocalyptic. "My days of nightclubs and discotheques are behind me," he explained. "I have only entered one such place since I found Jesus, and that was at His command. I would not do so otherwise for a million dollars."

So I'd have to outrank the Son of God and flash a cool million. Heck, I remember when it was pretty cool just to have a plus-one on the guest list. Anyway, it's a shame that the true believer didn't come along. It would've been an even better show. o