Champion athletes are said to have an internal switch they turn on during a game’s most crucial moments. The members of Metz apparently possess the same aptitude. Wednesday at a crowded Lincoln Hall, the Canadian trio exhibited a relentless energy and fearless urgency that nearly became exhausting to watch. Playing at ear-ringing decibel levels and keeping in constant motion, the band deviated from its planned set and performed several extra songs during an hour-long concert that doubled as primal catharsis.
Unconcerned with commercial success, Metz quickly gained a reputation as one of rock’s most intense live bands after moving from Ottawa to Toronto in 2009. A subsequent deal with Sub Pop Records gave the group instant street credibility — and permission to deliver adrenaline rushes that sound even more ferocious on its just-released sophomore album. While the trio isn’t for the faint of heart, Metz continues to add new wrinkles to the distorted rawness of the late-’80s Pacific Northwest underground scene and abrasive noise-rock championed in the early ’90s by Chicago-based imprint Touch & Go.
Concise, aggressive and sometimes ugly, Metz’s music confronted targets with physicality and force. Governed by concussive percussion, feedback and volatile hooks, songs threatened to careen out of control yet adhered to a precision-based attack that a pugilist would’ve appreciated. The band hit hard, fast and often, but varied the punches and changed the patterns to avoid dulling the effect. Shrouded in dark lighting and dry-ice fog, and occasionally illuminated by strobes, Metz conveyed a visual restlessness that mirrored the furiousness of tunes such as “Acetate” and “I.O.U.”
Shaking as he sang, lanky singer/guitarist Alex Edkins wailed semi-comprehensible complaints and screamed choruses steeped in disgust and frustration. He put his instrument at risk, slashing at strings and whipping the headstock toward the ground when emotion got the best of him. On “Get Off,” the bespectacled leader issued demands and hopped around as if trying to defy gravity. The equally caustic “Spit You Out” evoked the high-pressure grind of an industrial press, with Edkins yowling vitriolic remarks over a groove that swung like a chain lock used for malicious purposes.
As hazardous as Edkins’ scorched-earth voice sounded, nothing eclipsed the booming drumming of Hayden Menzies. He made a basic, seven-piece kit seem much bigger than its size. Clobbering every note with authoritative power and bruising intent, Menzies both anchored Metz’s percussive assault and escalated the magnitude of the band’s discontent.
Gendron is a freelance critic.