Reviews

The line between classical and metal music is drawn in Finland.

MATT NAGER/Special Contributor

Cellist Perttu Kivilaakso and drummer Mikko Sirén of Apocalyptica jammed at the House of Blues on Monday.

Actually, that frigid country and its normally shy, withdrawn populace is fast becoming over-the-top metal's ultimate proving ground. Not only has it produced 2008's best metal album so far (Children of Bodom's Blooddrunk), but it's also the home of the Air Guitar World Championships, no less.

And now we have Apocalyptica, three cellists and a drummer who singed the House of Blues' Music Hall with heaving and precise strokes of horsehair across steel on fragile, hollow instruments worth five figures. With distorted, downtuned dirges from Apocalyptica's collective pen, as well as covers of Metallica, Pantera and Savatage. With band members swinging their hair in circles as if compressed against a barricade in the front row of a Slipknot show.

It was a sight to behold, not because of the hokeyness factor (face it; metal is equated to classical music way too readily) and not because the music was all that compelling (it's not; Apocalyptica's plebian compositions are structured as hard pop, and its covers were often annotations of the originals).

Instead, it was because the Finns put on a wondrously charismatic performance that had the crowd of about 600 at their fleet and calloused fingertips. Devilish wonder Perttu Kivilaakso has a show-starting Dracula impersonation down. Frontman Eicca Toppinen's wide, ready grin and good looks were undeniable. Paavo Lotjonen's short-maned whipping-boy role collided with practicality as he broke a string during the finale, "Hall of the Mountain King," and tried to change it onstage as the others wrapped (no roadie is going to toss you a backup $30,000 cello midsong).

The most memorable part, though, was when the boisterous crowd hushed itself to a rehearsal-hall calm as Apocalyptica encored with Metallica's "Nothing Else Matters."

Yes, the show commenced at a symphony-esque 8 p.m. sharp. Yes, an unidentified fourth cellist played stone-faced, deadpan and cloaked in a blazer and sunglasses all evening. But that level of decorum among such a gathering is born from absolute respect – despite Fuel singer Toryn Green's blasé vocals on the radio hit "I'm Not Jesus" beforehand. Corey Taylor, he is nowhere near.

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