The Summer Slaughter tour came through Bogart’s last night. Decapitated was headlining, and Trenton didn’t want to miss the chance to see one of his favorites live, despite the fact that only a small fraction of the original lineup remains. A few years ago, the original(ish) members of Decapitated were involved in a bus crash, leaving one member dead and another in a coma. Vitek, the now-dead drummer was only 12 when the band formed and 15 when they recorded their first album. Trenton played some early albums for me and even to my uninitiated ears, it’s obvious that the guys had chops. This is the first tour the band has been on since the crash and with the new lineup. Despite not having the same emotional attachment and associations with the band that Trenton does, it was impossible not to see them through a veil of tragedy—especially Vogg, the creative force, sole remaining member, and Vitek’s brother. Vogg is captivating, shrouded in long blond sweaty metal hair, shredding mercilessly on his sleek black guitar. It’s hard to see his eyes, and in retrospect, it’s probably better that way. I mean, it is death metal after all, but death has touched this man in an uncomfortably intimate way. His biological brother is dead and his creative brother is a vegetable in an eastern-European hospital. He’s decided to bravely chug along nevertheless, and had to pick replacements for the irreplaceable. No matter how brutal the new lineup might be, they are Decapitated in name alone, and there’s something undeniably pitiable about that. I’m pretty sure “pitiable” is not the attitude they’re trying to convey.

Nonetheless, somber thoughts about mortality aside, I had a great time. About 10 minutes after we arrived and ventured down onto the floor, some guy got punched in the nose and was spewing blood all over the place. Trenton wouldn’t take a picture, and I left my Holga in the car, but I’m pretty sure the blood drops on the dirty floor would have made a sweet photo. With the exception of The Faceless, who began their set with about 20 minutes of technical difficulties and finished with 3 lackluster sludgy songs that excited no one, the bands were increasingly awesome. We walked in at the start of Veil of Maya’s set, which lead into The Red Chord, All Shall Perish, The Faceless and finally Decapitated. At one point, someone made the unfortunate decision to stagedive directly above Trenton and me. We neatly parted and without the support of the mosh pit—several yards away—he hit the floor pretty dramatically. There was almost a fight, I got bourbon poured down my back, and thanks to a generous bartender, Trenton and I shared a $3 gin & tonic.

We got lucky with the parking, and shortly after the show ended, we were on our way back to Louisville. Initially I was feeling pretty energized and drove most of the way home, but at about 1:30am, I lost my entire will to live and had to pull over to fill up the tank and switch drivers. This “morning” I feel like an old woman. My eyeballs itch, my ears are still ringing, I’ve been sipping Gatorade as if I’d been drinking heavily, and my neck is sore. My first bangover.