It's Official: Earholes Hate Brooklyn Masonic Temple

The last forty-eight hours have created a near legendary status for one New York City music venues, placing it in the echelon of other timeless joints like Max’s, CBGB’s, Irving Plaza-the music places that people like us in the Midwest dream and imagine about.

The venue-the Brooklyn Masonic Temple-has consistently booked hard rock shows for some time now, proving to be a very heavy-friendly venue with some very heavy-friendly qualities.

Yes it seems the Temple’s high ceilings, grubby interior and cool lineage all bow well for metal lineage-but the other bonus is that the venue is independently booked and is not subjected to normal regulations.

In other words, band can play at the Brooklyn Masonic Temple and be as loud as humanly possible.

It is an ideal spot for any band that likes to test the boundaries of hearing loss.

But for the last couple of days, a pair of bands have come through the doors of the Temple and tested the lawfulness of volume.

These aren’t normal purveyors of metal and hard rock; these are bands that are so aggressively loud that a potential to cause audiences to involuntarily shit themselves.

It started with Japan’s ultimate power trio took the stage with Ian Astbury. Since I’m completely smitten with The Cult’s Love album and equally gushing about Boris’ Pink, this match-up is heavenly.

According to the Village Voice’s Sound In The City blog, the power trio plus sometimes Jim Morrison impersonator was so loud that they continually blew the power out at the Temple. In fact, the band finally gave up during their sonically destructive version of The Doors’ “The End,” right as Ian was channeling his inner Jimbo.

The sound crew finally got things in order just in time for planet Earth’s heaviest band ever to hit the stage. The band rarely plays anything about 1,000 kHz, so when their guttural assault was underway, a crew of NYC’s finest came through the doors and literally pulled the plug themselves. Reports indicate that the material was so brutal that most in attendance were too destroyed to protest the man’s decision to end the festivities.

But wait, there’s more.

On the following night, the reunited Sleep came through and provided another night of high volume drama. From the Voice reporter’s account, you could hear even the opening band’s output from several blocks away and it was even louder when Matt Pike took the stage.

No cops were called and no fuses blown, but Sleep’s performance created a trifecta of volume that was seemingly unmatched in New York’s storied history.

And with that much sonic damage taking place, the Brooklyn Masonic Temple has secured its own place in NYC rock history and the venue that dared to make everyone’s earholes bleed.