What better way could you pass a Monday night than in a stinking darkened room watching the most evil of black metal? Or at least that’s what Tom Dare thinks, which is why he went along to catch Watain in London.
A crowd queuing quietly in Camden late on a miserable Monday afternoon is nothing unusual, and nor is the atmosphere. If you happened to be walking past, you would probably assume it was a relatively popular but unspectacular British band playing tonight – there are no chants of band names, no random shouts of, “Slayer!” And no one band dominates the black tshirts the fans are sporting. Nothing you would have seen could hint at the phenomenon that would emerge on stage later, when Watain reinforce their claim to be the lead pack of the black metal wolves.