Not quite 24 hours, but close enough. Pic by Santiago Felipe.

​Godspeed You Black Emperor
Brooklyn Masonic Temple
Tuesday, March 15

"The only band whose show I've ever had to walk out of due to physical fear," notes my ordinarily strong-willed cohort this evening (the vibrations at a long-ago Knitting Factory gig apparently made him sweaty), five minutes into tonight's 150-minute affair, a lonely violin sawing over a deep, disconcerting bass hum, the house lights down, the gradually accruing band members defiantly unlit, the storm gathering (multiple guitars, multiple drummers, multiple layers of seething feedback), the word "hope" projected on the twin projection screens behind them like a taunt, like something long abandoned. He makes it this time, my friend. We all do (I think). But not by much.

More >>

​The Loudest Venue in New York meets one of the Godfathers of Hip-Hop tonight at a bizarre but quiet possibly wonderful benefit at Brooklyn Masonic Temple: Along with Afrika Bambaataa and dudes from the Daptone crew spinning vintage-soul 45s, there will also allegedly be a photo booth, a raffle, and, uh, a trampoline.

More >>

Mr. Gira (second from left), mid-exorcism. Pics by Rob, more below.

​Swans
Brooklyn Masonic Temple
Friday, October 8

Better than: Primal-scream therapy

And back we go to the Loudest Venue In New York City, to be summarily pulverized by the freshly reunited Loudest, Angriest Band on Earth. Our first audience casualty doubles over at about the 35-minute mark and is gingerly escorted out by his similarly ashen-faced buddies, pummeled with feedback, impaled by the martial stomp, and generally terrified by Swans mastermind Michael Gira, who strides onstage and stares us down like we're the toughest-looking guy in the prison yard, slaps his face several times, and proceeds for the next 100 minutes to put on as mesmerizing a display of feral frontman magnetism as you could possibly ask for, or withstand.

More >>

​Brooklyn Masonic Temple, allegedly the loudest venue in all of New York, is set to dole out yet another audio beating Tuesday, when the freshly reunited Swans, whose new CD My Father Will Guide Me Up a Rope to the Sky is out this week, finally swoop in to terrify and antagonize you. Yet another night when a failure to bring earplugs maybe be punishable by death. But if you do survive, the show's afterparty, held immediately thereafter in the Brooklyn Masonic basement, has a remarkable lineup indeed:

More >>

Matt Pike, tremendously pleased with himself, and why not. More pics below.

​Sleep
Brooklyn Masonic Temple
Wednesday, September 8

Better than: Sticking your head in a jet engine. Also, louder.

It's only when I'm a half-block from the Loudest Venue in New York on the third night of what has to be the loudest three-night stand in its history, the opening band already clearly audible, when I realize I do not have earplugs. And then I am unhappy, so very unhappy. Later, as Sleep commence their pummeling nuclear-power-trio swagger and dirge, I contemplate tearing up little sections from pages of the New Yorker and stuffing them in my ears, which is probably the greatest metaphor of all time.

More >>

Sunn O))) meets the Brooklyn Masonic Temple. Photo via the Fader.

​Last night, Sunn O))) and Boris combined to blow out the power at the Brooklyn Masonic Temple, consigning the rest of their set to utter darkness as the venue killed the lights to save electricity. It didn't hurt the band's volume levels, though: the show was so loud it drew the cops, who watched in amusement as the crowd staggered out at the show's conclusion, punished by the combination of Sunn O))) dissonance and the venue's ridiculous acoustics--an experience a publication no less authoritative than the New York Times described last year as working "like sonar drills on your guts." The Brooklyn Masonic Temple has to be the loudest venue in all of NYC, right?

More >>

Boris' drummer attempts to reenergize the crowd. Pic by Beta.

​Sunn O))) and Boris/BXI
Brooklyn Masonic Temple
September 6, 2010

Better than: Sun King, the Cult tribute band.

Time has a way of getting suspended at shows involving Boris and fellow Southern Lord labelmates Sunn O))). But usually, it tends towards the extreme, not the abrupt.

More >>

Mr. Chilton, still serenading those September gurls. Pic by Lindsey Budjinski

​Big Star
Brooklyn Masonic Temple
Wednesday, November 18

This show seems half-assed in a way that everyone is frankly really pleased with, most of all Alex Chilton, of course, a blithely nonchalant power-pop deity loping amiably through a clutch of '70s hits with the aid of a couple '90s alt-rockish power-pop dudes who deified him (Jon Auer and Ken Stringfellow, they of the Posies) at a late 2009 show at a Masonic Temple in Brooklyn, ostensibly to promote a box set. And why the hell not. "We love you Alex!" some dude yells, after a raucous, ragged-guitar-solo-besotted "Don't Lie to Me." "Welcome to New York!" someone else yells. "It's not New York--it's Brooklyn!" some lady corrects. "You too, Jody!" a fourth dude adds, making sure Mr. Stephens, behind the drums as always, also feels welcome. And then it's off to "When My Baby's Beside Me," and everybody's suddenly feeling super good about themselves.

More >>

Andrew WK on keys. Pink Eyes, where is your loyalty?

Fucked Up's New York shows always seem to coincide with historic American days: Inauguration Day 2008, the only time in recorded history when Ezra Koenig publicly covered the Descendents, and now the day after the Yankees won the World Series. And so last night, frontman Damian "Father" Abraham paid tribute to our baseball championship (that was harder to type that you know) with a Yankees shirt. Fuck the Yankees (that was easier to type that you know), last night's real special occasion was the Toronto band recreating their stupendous 2008 album The Chemistry of Modern Life, with the Vivian Girls on back-up vocals and Andrew WK on "special keyboard parts!" Below are Rebecca Smeyne's shots of Pink Eyes smooching dudes, falling on top of dudes, spitting on dudes, flailing on dudes, putting his dirty socks on dudes. Unrelated: enjoy your parade, d-bags!

More >>

SunnO))), Earth, Pelican, Eagle Twin, Brooklyn Masonic Temple, September 22

SunnO))) photo by that.turtle

​"Thanks to the Masons for letting us use their building" - Dylan Carlson, Earth

You should know the deal for these Southern Lord shows by now: oppressively loud doom metal riffs, guys in robes, limited edition posters, tote bags, slip mats, 180 gram vinyl, smoke machines, Mongolian throat singing as between-band music, seven amp stacks, a mile-long guest list (I spotted Matthew Barney and Yoko Ono). So the real novelty this time out is the Brooklyn Masonic Temple, billed by the promoters as "the loudest room in New York." The Temple is already a mystical place before you add the five hours of sitting in a rickety seat and the windowless hotbox effect of a steamy crowd. The balcony vibrates when, like, Jose Gonzalez plays in there. So how would wave after wave of suffocating doom feel? Here's a quick rundown:

More >>