1 of 3
Tommy Giles Rogers and Blake Richardson of Between the Buried and Me
2 of 3
3 of 3
It takes a strong set of pipes to sing for almost four hours with only one break, especially in a metal band where most of the songs are “screamo.” Between the Buried and Me’s lead vocalist, Tommy Giles Rogers, and the rest of the band were solid from start to finish during their concert at The Canal Club on Wednesday night. The show was originally set for last year but, like many events in 2020, was rescheduled due to the pandemic. While many fans held onto their tickets, others sold them through third-party brokers for upwards of $100, according to one report. The people who sold their tickets might regret it now, as the whole show, down to the last head bang, functioned like a well-oiled machine.
And it should. Formed in 2000, the North Carolina-based progressive metal band has released nine studio albums; their latest, “Automata II,” dropped in 2018 (a new album, “Colors II,” releases this month). The group consists of Tommy Giles Rogers on lead vocals and keyboards, Paul Waggoner on lead guitar, Dustie Waring on rhythm guitar, Dan Briggs on bass guitar, and Blake Richardson on the drums.
Between the Buried and Me performed two full sets, one that drew songs from their complete discography and another that featured their album “The Great Misdirect” in its entirety, including a song on the album that is nearly 18 minutes long. Shorter tracks such as “Mirrors” and “Obfuscations” got the crowd jumping, while longer songs such as “Fossil Genera (A Feed From Cloud Mountain)” and “Swim to the Moon” were met with awe and appreciation.
The crowd was a mix of people across several generations. From the die-hard fans slamming against each other in the mosh pit to the men in polos and khaki shorts cradling their beers on the edge of the crowd and the concert veterans in the back (one with an “I Used to Mosh” T-shirt), it was a party for all ages.
As the night wound down, a few people began to trickle out the door, but the club stayed at full capacity, with barely room for a line to form at the bar and merch stands. When the last song was played and the stage went dark, the audience chanted for an encore. It’s a connection like this that makes a crowd a community, a group of people working together for the same goal and experience. Just when I thought the band wasn’t going to oblige, the members walked back onstage. As blue and red lights bathed the performers once again, Rogers asked the crowd what song they wanted to hear. Phones set to record popped back into the air, and hands clapped in the flashing lights.
As I was swept out the door along with the sea of patrons trying to get to their cars, I walked down the sidewalk with a smile. There is no greater sense of community than among audience members at a rock show, and the best bands are the ones you can’t sit still for.
