“So it was with great portent that night fell upon Reginald’s Emporium of the Fine Arts, cloaking Chicago in a sickly sodium glow. Just on the edge of Chinatown, next to a bombed-out taco joint under the Green Line, brutality was brewing, summoned in darkness from the ragged edges of the Earth. And as the sun set, than the venue was assailed by… no one at all.” The abyss is a lonely place.
“The always well-attended Summer Slaughter tour came to Chicago one cloudy Wednesday night, with a packed lineup of death metal giants. Nile, Suffocation, Revocation, and headliners Cannibal Corpse played to a packed and pickled pit until the wee hours of the morning, and few prevailed without injury. Truly, it was a night to be remembered. At least, I assume that happened. I elected to skip the megatour (and probably the best pit Chicago will see all year) and head just a few miles further up Milwaukee avenue to see the most Kronos-approved bill that will ever come to be; the tour to end all tours. Plebeain Grandstand. Pyrrhon. The trvest of the trve had gathered.” The night Chicago was trve.
Of the 8 billion retro rock bands out in the world now, Chicago’s Bible Of The Devil sets themselves apart from the pack for two reasons: One, they are actually good, and two, they are the genuine article.
