Delighted to report that Crowbar are much as you left them: kicking ass. The long-running New Orleans sludge metal progenitors may yet outlast us all, and if they do, they will have earned it. Appearing live for the third time at OCD Recording and Production in Metarie, Louisiana, the band dutifully played a gig they could in another time have been playing in any number of cities in any number of countries the world over to any amount of people. That is to say, Crowbar are playing Crowbar‘s show, no matter what. I’ve seen them in recent years play to thousands, to hundreds and to tens of people, and have never once left feeling like the band could or should have given more of themselves on stage.

I mean that.

Last time I saw Crowbar was in August 2019 (review here) as they were wrapping a month-plus on the road with Corrosion of Conformity and Lo-Pan. Comprised of founding guitarist/vocalist Kirk Windstein alongside Tommy Buckley on drums, Matt Brunson on guitar and Shane Wesley on bass, they were unshakable then, and seeing them on my television on a Saturday afternoon livestream hardly felt different from their point of view. I’m sure it was, but they played their set like it was a source of pride, and one imagines it is. When it was done, as ever, I felt ready to buy a shirt.

They played the songs they would have to play — “Self-Inflicted,” “Planets Collide,” “All I Had (I Gave)” — with the latter two closing out, as well as some more recent highlights like “Walk With Knowledge Wisely” and “Cemetery Angels” from 2014’s Symmetry in Black (video posted here) and 2011’s Sever the Wicked Hand (review here), respectively. Kind of a surprise to have 2016’s The Serpent Only Lies (review here) unrepresented, but this is Crowbar‘s third stream, so maybe they’ve visited it elsewhere. In any case, “Cemetery Angels” — complete with what Windstein called the “proper half-time New Orleans-style” chugging end — was heavy enough to fill any perceived gaps that might’ve cropped up.

For my own viewing pleasure, to have “Thru the Ashes (I’ve Watched You Burn)” along with the more staple “The Lasting Dose” from 2001’s Sonic Excess in its Purest Form was a highlight, and a couple fan-nods in the form of “Waiting in Silence” from the band’s 1991 debut, Obedience Thru Suffering, and “New Man Born” from 1998’s Odd Fellows Rest — which Windstein noted were the first song the band ever wrote and a song they’d only played twice, respectively — found likewise welcome.

But let’s face it, you’re not coming out of watching Crowbar in-person or otherwise feeling like you didn’t get your money’s worth. For as t-shirt-and-beer as their aesthetic has always been, they’re a professional band and have been for decades. Watching my toddler son dance in circles and play bells along with “Planets Collide” didn’t lessen that any. The highest compliment I can pay it is it felt like seeing Crowbar.

I’ve talked to a few artists in the last couple weeks on the record and off about the livestreaming form as a way to connect with their audience — no one in Crowbar, so I don’t necessarily know how they feel about it — but a lot of what I’ve heard rounds out to missing audience feedback, be it actual applause or just the energy of a room anticipating what the next song is going to be. Even if someone’s aware of a live chat happening while they’re playing, you can’t really stop playing music and check what’s being said without derailing your set — maybe in a tuning break? But Crowbar didn’t do that. The camera faded out after each song and brought up a title card for the next one, then Windstein either introduced it or they just started playing.

Without trying to speak for anyone else who’s watched this or any other livestream, I know that the appreciation I have for being able to see Crowbar playing a set goes beyond that set itself. You know what I mean? Not only is it comforting to know that the steamroller of heavy that this band is still exists somewhere out there, but if it’s not a direct back and forth with their fans — and let’s be honest, it’s a way for the band to bring a little cash too; not nearly enough to cover missing a tour, but every little bit counts — it’s a way for them to offer something that, despite being so aurally grueling, is kind of comforting in its own way.

So no, streaming isn’t the same vibe as a live show. It was never supposed to be and it never will be. But shit, I was happy to watch this band, and they delivered the quality performance that one could only hope for and expect each time they step on stage.

Ultimately it was Crowbar being Crowbar, and god damn it, that’s sludge you can rely on.

And yeah, I did buy a shirt.

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