Cavern Womb, Grotesqueries, Profligate and Fuck Tomb
Ortlieb's
847 N 3rd St.
Philadelphia
Dec. 5, 2024
I waded through dozens of stench-drenched dudes to get into the trenches of a death metal extravaganza featuring my favorite Philly freak show, Fuck Tomb — and found the front row was made up of girls who looked like they’d just escaped their sorority house mom.
“Thank you for coming! Thank you so much for coming!” Fuck Tomb frontman Garry Moore gushed to the girls.
Was Moore a teacher with grade-grubbing students? I wondered. Why was this man in a studded vest with the words “chaotic evil” being so polite to a crowd of just over 21-ers who looked like they were posing as goth skaters?
Compassion, consideration and A+ customer service turned out to be the theme at Ortlieb’s four-band metal event on Thursday night. Alongside the likes of Cavern Womb, Grotesqueries, and Profligate, Fuck Tomb delivered their self-described “feral, gross, psychotic death-grinding punk from a collective of weirdos that have seen beyond the mortal coil and worship the invincible dead,” with unflinching faith.
First, guitarist Christopher Emerson thanked us all for coming out. “Stay warm by drinking beer and tipping your bartender!” he advised before asking the sound man to turn up his guitar levels.
“Yeah, you do that shit!” an audience member jokingly commanded. “What else do you want, Chris?”
“What else do I want?” Chris questioned.
“A massage?” the audience member suggested.
“A shot of whiskey would be nice,” Chris considered. “Appreciate you, Fred!”
While Emerson downed his whiskey — “Cheers!” — Moore took a sip out of his reusable water bottle. It seemed like a professorial thing to do. But I guess he also probably needed to hydrate before letting out his highly emotive growls and scat-style barks that vomited out of his throat like monster-made cries. Moore performs in a language of his own. I could make out words here and there, but the focus was on the feeling and fleeting guitar riffs far more than the lyrics.
While one diehard fan flipped their long hair back and forth with fervor, the sorority-looking girls screamed with glee like fans at a boy band show.
Finally, Moore stepped down into the crowd, which immediately turned into a mosh pit. I felt mild stress watching the six-foot-plus man standing so near to a bunch of short, beanie-capped women throwing themselves around like playful puppies, but every one seemed to be having a good time.
At the end of the night, one of the girls turned to me with apologetic doe eyes: “Are you okay? I’m so sorry for bumping into you!”
“It’s all good,” I assured her. “That’s what we’re here for.”
“I’m so sorry,” she repeated. “I only know Garry from work,” she said. “We all work at Trader Joe’s,” she told me, panning around to the rest of her tribe.
Then she asked me: “Why are you here?”
Listen to Fuck Tomb's so-far released music on Band Camp here.
