On the night before daylight saving time pulled Oregon out of the dark, drizzly abyss that is winter, Red Fang slayed with a midnight set of gloomy metal that could only be exemplified through ferocious profanities collectively bellowed from the beer soaked jungle of Dante’s. “This beats my day job,” muttered singer and guitarist Bryan Giles as he traded gutteral, growling vocals with bassist Aaron Beam. The Pabst-swilling crowd gritted and gnashed teeth as the aforementioned tall boys were crushed under moshing feet and pummeled the black stage curtain.
Red Fang toed a delicate line, staying just this side of out of control, a feat the audience could not begin to dream of accomplishing. Animalistic and tightly packed, they expelled energy through their pores, picking one another off the floor. As the set built momentum, more and more drinks plumed the air like breaching killer whales...
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