THE BLACK DAHLIA MURDER – SPRING FLING TOUR – THE WEBSTER
By Joe Perusse
If loud and fast is your thing, the Webster was exactly where you needed to be. The Black Dahlia Murder rolled through Hartford with The Acacia Strain, Disembodied Tyrant, and Corpse Pile, and every single band showed up ready to deliver.
Corpse Pile kicked things off and wasted no time setting the tone. Jason Lionel Frazier came out swinging, calling Hartford “Hateford” and asking who in the room had someone they hated—instant chaos. The pit exploded and took up most of the floor right out of the gate. Davis Press Snyder held it down on bass all set, locking in those heavy grooves.
Before “Stacking Bodies,” Frazier mentioned it was their first time in the main room after previously playing the underground, even joking about a rough first experience with security—clearly not an issue this time. Landry Arredondo (Guitar) and Alex Covarrubias (Drums) rounded things out and kept the energy right where it needed to be.
Next up, Disembodied Tyrant kept the momentum going. It was great to see Blake Mullens back on vocals, and they came out hard with “Icarian.” Lucas Koughan (Bass) was all over the stage, whipping his hair and feeding off the crowd. Mullens got everyone moving during “The Poetic Edda,” even shouting out Dominic Petrocelli (Guitar) mid-song after a ripping solo. At one point he headed over to Kevin Alexander’s drum kit to mess with the cymbals before setting up a full-on wall of death to close with “Winter.” No let-up at all.
A big chunk of the crowd was clearly there for The Acacia Strain, and they got exactly what they came for. Vincent Bennett hit the stage and made it clear from the jump—they were there to wreck the place. “Fresh Bones” had the entire room screaming along, and Bennett kept the pit cool—literally—spraying water into the crowd throughout the set.
“Seeing God” took the crowd surfing up another level, and by the time “Whoa! Shut It Down” hit, the place was fully locked in. Bennett took a moment to get real, talking about losing friends and reminding everyone to check in on each other—then brought his friend Sam out for “Send Help.” It was heavy in every sense.
“The Hills Have Eyes” turned the floor into complete chaos, and for the closer “Carbomb,” Bennett jumped
right into the photo pit to finish things off. Matt Guglielmo absolutely crushed it on drums, with Devin Shidaker (Lead Guitar), Griffin Landa (Bass), and Mike Mulholland (Rhythm Guitar) rounding out a seriously tight lineup.
Then came The Black Dahlia Murder, and whatever energy was left in the room got pushed into overdrive. They opened with “Evening Ephemeral,” and by the time “Nightbringers” hit, the whole floor was bouncing. Ryan Knight’s solos had hands in the air all over the place. Brian Eschbach took a second after “Panic Hysteric” to welcome everyone to night seven of the tour and made it clear—they had a lot to get through.
They didn’t waste a second. “Contagion” had a sea of devil horns, “A Vulgar Picture” brought in a killer solo from touring guitarist Wes Hauch, and the hits just kept coming—“Mammoth’s Hand,” “Malenchantments of the Necrosphere,” and “Flies” all landed hard. Eschbach shouted out the openers and leaned into the Friday night energy before cranking things up even more with “Aftermath.” From there it was nonstop: “Kings of the Nightworld,” “Unhallowed,” “Funeral Thirst,” “Cursed Creator”—no breathing room.
When Eschbach told southern New England to flex for “Statutory Ape,” someone in an ape suit actually jumped on stage, then dove straight into the pit. The whole place lost it. “Everything Went Black” and “What a Horrible Night to Have a Curse” had fists flying, and “Warborn” brought another wave of crowd surfers. At one point Eschbach joked that the neighborhood hadn’t changed—he could still grab a Yoo-hoo at the corner store—which felt very on-brand for Hartford.
They teased wrapping it up, but instead went even harder—“Nocturnal,” “Miasma,” and then, because why not, three more: “Utopia Black,” “I Will Return,” and “Deathmask Divine.” Alan Cassidy (Drums) and Max Lavelle (Bass) kept everything locked in from the back while the chaos unfolded up front.
Bottom line—this was one of those nights where everything clicked. Every band delivered, the crowd brought it, and the Webster felt exactly like it should: loud, packed, and a little out of control in the best way possible.
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