Review: Cradle of Filth and Dying Fetus Delivered the Chaos and Carnage

The Chaos & Carnage tour lived up to its name on May 15 at Summit, as the lineup anchored by heavy-hitters Cradle of Filth and Dying Fetus resulted in blood, bruises and broken bodies.

Well, no serious injuries actually occurred, by all accounts and observations, but it would be a surprise if a majority of the crowd, particularly the maniacs who seemingly never stopped moshing during the last two sets, didn’t wake up severely sore in the morning. But surviving a Dying Fetus show, in the eye of such man-made aggression, and escaping relatively unscathed is a point of pride in certain circles.

The seven-band bill (fucking seven!) — also featuring Corpse Pile, Vomit Forth, Undeath, Ne Obliviscaris and Fleshgod Apocalypse — made the show more of a marathon than a sprint. But the crowd came ready. Corpse Pile, Vomit Forth and Undeath represent the new wave of old-school American death metal, while Aussies Ne Obliviscaris and Italy’s own Fleshgod Apocalypse brought their respective international flavors of progressive and symphonic extremity.  Fleshgod closed with a rendition of Eifel 65’s 1998 anthem “Blue (Da Ba Dee)” and, yes, it was just as awesome as you’re imagining an operatic-metal version to be.
While those five bands kicked ass, Cradle of Filth and Dying Fetus drummed up the most chaos and carnage, as promised by the tour title.

First, Cradle of Filth, England’s preeminent goth-metal export and a massive headliner in its own right, brought the macabre pageantry and corpse-painted theatrics that have become just as popular as the music. Yes, there were several “Jesus Is a Cunt” T-shirts littered throughout the audience, and if you don’t already own the most infamous piece of merch in metal history, the band still sells them (it’s the same OG “Vestal masturbation” design from 1993).

Of course, Cradle isn’t all flash, or slash, and no substance. The eight-song setlist spanned the entirety of the band’s recorded history, including “The Principle of Evil Made Flesh,” from the 1994 debut of the same name, and a pair from this year’s release, The Screaming of the Valkyries, in “Malignant Perfection” and “To Live Deliciously.”

Vampiric vocalist Dani Filth may just be immortal, if the full-throated ferocity of his voice is any indication of agelessness.

During “Death Magick for Adepts,” Cradle’s closer, a long-haired fan pushed himself from the pit sporting a fresh crimson kiss on his nose. The blood ran from an abrasion on the bridge and into his awaiting palm. He calmly made his way to the bathroom tucked into the back corner of the venue to clean himself up. By the time Dying Fetus plugged in, the wound had been treated with a makeshift paper towel swath, and the hesher returned to the front lines where he came from, disappearing back into the fray for more mayhem. Next, Dying Fetus brought the brutality. It’s what the Maryland trio is known for — “pure fucking death metal,” founding vocalist-guitarist John Gallagher was sure to remind the room, in case anyone forgot. Such an uncompromising approach is why DF has gained so much respect in the death-metalsphere. Even if you’ve never heard one note of any Dying Fetus song ever, you could probably guess what they sound like based on the name alone. It embraces the abrasiveness.

While Cradle put on more of a stage show, Dying Fetus blew through an eleven-song set in workman-like fashion — no frills, no witty banter, no encore, no fucking around.

“Everybody in that fucking pit, get in the pit, baby,” was the longest sentence Gallagher, who has some of the lowest gutturals in the game, uttered.

Popular DF songs “Wrong One to Fuck With,” “Subjected to a Beating” and night-ender “Killing on Adrenaline” received the most fervent responses, naturally, in the form of crowd-surfing, stagediving and moshpits. At one point, a team of medics rushed through with a gurney, accompanied by venue staff. The show continued uninterrupted, but God bless the security staff, especially those holding down the stage barricade, who kept busy by making sure everyone who decided to catch a ride on top of the crowd did so safely.

Gallagher, bassist Sean Beasley and drummer Trey Williams walked off the stage shortly after, nothing more than a quick “thank you” in closing.

Stunned but satiated, most of the crowd didn’t head for the doors right away, as if experiencing a delayed neurological reaction. Then the lights went on, marking the official end of the night.

A bald beardo sporting an ill-fitting Devourment long-sleeve chuckled on his way out: “Good times!”

Find more concerts on our Denver concert calendar.