Brian Hagman of Black Lamb performs at the Larimer Lounge in January. Reverb file photo by .
Dr. Jekyll’s got nothing on Brian Hagman. If you’ve run into the frontman in his civilian guise, and then seen his transmogrification on stage, you know what I mean, and Saturday nightap show at was exemplary.
Early in the show, Hagman was one spectator in a sadly minuscule audience. Bespectacled, wearing a nominally patched and painted denim vest and flannel, he seemed to draw little, if any, attention, and if you didn’t know he was in the band, you might think he was just waiting for us all to leave so he could clean up the place. Onstage about 90 minutes later was the Brian Hagman we came to see, and that personifies the desperate psychosis that is Black Lamb.
During their performance, Hagman made a point of repeating that the band comes “…from Commerce City, by way of Lakewood,” an origin which makes perfect sense, if you’ve ever been there. Their brutal metal sludge is synonymous with the image that comes to mind when you’re driving past the city’s industrial landscape, as you roll up your car windows before the interior begins to curdle. Black Lamb is that guttural, deep muck that spews out of refineries into thickening water tables on the outskirts of town. Their sound is an ever-present reminder of our communal public neuroses, and Hagman’s onstage persona is poster boy for them all as he leads his loyal fans through admission, confession and on into clarity.
During the first song of their set he leapt from the Tavern’s low stage onto the sparse dance floor, jerking and twisting violently in an uncanny imitation of Circle Jerks’ cartoon Skank Boy. It was as if a puppeteer had him hanging from above, his limbs flailing in frantic seizure as the band finished the tune. They tore through a 50-minute set of characteristically grimy metal after that, driving a huge, unwieldy bulldozer over the few fans present. And all of us loved it.
, an alt-metal band from San Francisco, performed a short set before the Lamb took over that night, and they brought some prog-rock psychedelia with them to add to the mix. I can’t be absolutely sure, but Lick may be the first metal band I’ve seen that performs with a full-sized standup bass.
Their overall sound is unique, even arty. Singer Keri Kevorkian fronted their performance with a voice that mixed Grace Slick’s with Cocteau Twins’ Liz Frasier’s at times, and then sheered through the center of your skull at others with the scream of a mythical, tortured banshee. The band backed up her performance with complex time signatures, furious and chunky guitar work, and excellent bass lines.
Billy Thieme is a Denver-based writer, an old-school punk and a huge follower of Denver’s vibrant local music scene. Follow Billy’s giglist at
