To the average passerby, the congregation massing at New Vision United Church on the night of Nov. 1 might seem an odd one, what with all the Halloween costumes, mullets and concert tees.
The church, an unsuspecting enough building in downtown Hamilton, goes by another name: The Music Hall. Originally built as a Victorian-Romanesque Centenary Methodist Church in 1868, the building now hosts burlesque shows, fashion events and hardcore rock concerts. Case in point: The Dirty Nil.
A Canadian rock ‘n’ roll band born from the scene in Hamilton, The Dirty Nil announced this “special hometown show” on Instagram at the end of September. It was titled “Let There Be Nil,” and its prescient poster image detailed a church with flames swirling out of every door and window. With special guests Mile End, the Nil vowed to “save your soul with some rock and roll.”
Upon entering the venue, concert-goers are greeted by robed attendees, who provide a program for the sermon ahead. “Brothers, sisters, everyone. Thank you for joining us for a very special night of cathartic communion,” the leaflet reads. With “hymns from The Book of Nil and The Book of Bon,” the program tells people to “prepare to be bathed in the cleansing light of rock and roll” and to “sing loud as to be heard from the heavens.”
That this was no ordinary show was abundantly clear. But the extent of how special it will be is yet to be seen.
As the room fills, the lights darken and Mile End takes the stage. A concussive force of sound erupts as the band sets the tone for the rest of the night, encouraging the crowd to get moving. Within minutes, the mosh pit becomes a mass of ragged, frenzied movement; limbs fly in every direction as bodies crash into one another.
When asked, the audience expresses that it’s many of their first times seeing Mile End, but heads abound bounce nonetheless. After playing for about 30 minutes, the band thanks the audience and gets them screaming for the upcoming headliner.
The Dirty Nil begins a bit later than promised, taking the stage donned in the garb of priests and tossing communion wafers into the front rows. While the program does say that one Father O’Connor — not a member of the band — will be leading the sermon, it is somewhat confusing to see him taking the central microphone instead of lead singer Luke Bentham. But as soon as they start playing, the reason is apparent.
This guy sounds just like Bon Scott, and The Dirty Nil is covering AC/DC.
Opening their set is “Let There Be Rock,” and once the track is finished, O’Connor leaves the stage and the band takes up a more traditional formation. They play some early singles, like “F****n’ Up Young” and “Nicotine,” Bentham screaming with palpable enthusiasm, and the moment the crowd hears an original song is when the moshing begins. In the intimate space of the church, the audience feels united; the floor sags and bounces under their collective weight.
Hardcore Nil songs like “Doom Boy” and “Blunt Force Concussion” imbue the moshing crowd with untold strength. One member, dressed in a hot costume complete with a scarf and plush jumpsuit, finds himself trapped in the middle, sweating and panting, on the verge of passing out, but dancing nonetheless and loving it all the while. Just when he thinks he might die in the most hardcore workout of his life, the band switches up the pace with some slower songs and he’s able to escape the ceaseless crowd.
After a Nil set that felt somewhat short, O’Connor returns with an addictive energy for some more AD/DC covers, including “Big Balls” and “It’s a Long Way to the Top.” O’Connor dances around the stage and imitates the splashing of holy water with his mic in such a way that you know he’s having the time of his life. Some seem upset that the band isn’t playing more original songs, but the energy remains high until the electrifying closer, AC/DC’s “Live Wire.”
Then, in true rock ‘n’ roll fashion, Benthem, O’Connor and bassist Sam Tomlinson fall backwards off the stage and crowd-surf over their congregated fans. O’Connor and Tomlinson only make it about halfway, but Bentham not only makes it to the back of the room but up to the front again, where he is placed back on the stage and delivers one final bow to the cheering audience.
Once the band is gone, the crowd waits anxiously for an encore. Being only 10:45 p.m., there’s time for at least one more song, if not two or three. Many chant “encore” or “Dirty Nil,” eager for one last romp with the band.
But then some music comes on over the speakers, a tell-tale sign that it’s time to leave. If that’s not bad enough, the lights come on shortly after. Still, the crowd refuses to leave. When the lights turn off, those who’ve remained feel a rush of vindication, but it is a false hope. The lights return and so does Tomlinson, saying that they hadn’t planned an encore, but he’ll go backstage to see what he can do.
It is no use though. Not two minutes later, he returns and says they’re not doing it, but it doesn’t mean they love their fans any less. The whole ordeal leaves somewhat of a sour taste in the mouths of attendees after such a fun show, but there is nothing to be done except to leave the way they came, back out the doors of this rock ‘n’ roll church.
Regardless, this unfortunate ending does not reduce the memories they’ve made with The Dirty Nil and friends on this cool, autumn night. Catharsis has been achieved, souls have been saved and rock lives on another day.