The Warlocks swept on stage at Spaceland shrouded in scarlet-tinged smoke and dressed (mostly) in black. It was all very serious. No one spoke. People shifted from foot to foot expectantly. Throats cleared. Then the first droning notes from singer Bobby Hecksher’s guitar slithered between us like a python, heavy. Still unassuming and innocuous this early on in the song, the notes wound their way around our necks and bowels, waiting, waiting. The attack came so sweet and smooth we didn’t even know we couldn’t breathe until we were already wide eyed and gurgling in the building, 4-guitar onslaught of ear drum-busting sound between softer respites from the attack. Crush and release, but only enough to squeeze a little tighter next time.

The witchy, throbbing intro segued into softer noodling with “Whips of Mercy,” which seemed to drain some of the head-bopping energy from the crowd. I get it, the live shows are supposed to be like one huge, warm blanket of white noise and fog (figurative and literal thanks to a fog machine on a timer), but the band’s deadpan delivery and the occasional monotony of feedback-laden instrumentals sometimes made it more of an effort to stay focused on the live show than it is to get sucked into the recordings.

A character I will call Superfan did not seem to have any such problems. This devoted young man stood front and center from the moment the band walked on stage, and even though there wasn’t much to headbang at, Superfan did his best to find every opportunity to flail his arms, thrash and dance, head bowed in supplication to the Warlocks. A few songs after he jumped on stage, Hecksher had Superfan kicked out of Spaceland. Although I’m sure he was distracting, it was disappointing to see someone so into their music get booted by his idols. It perhaps is a symptom of the Taking Yourself Too Seriously virus, for which having a little more fun is a simple and effective cure.

—Ayse Arf