The first time I saw Ceremony was some 16 months ago at a scary, generic sweaty non-venue somewhere in Allston. My friends and I had been directed there by a gentlemen on the front steps of the Democracy Center, who took pity on us as we arrived there to find that the band’s show that night was already over and done with. This mysterious after show offered a chance at salvaging our thus-far peaceful evening, and after an arduous cross-town journey and a severe eyeing from a suspicious doorman, we made it to a tiny second-floor room in a strange building. Ceremony’s set in said tiny room was a chaotic whirlwind of sound and flying bodies that seemed poised to collapse the floor at any moment.
The echoes of that night rang in my head throughout the band’s recent appearance at The Sinclair. The leap from playing small DIY venues to headlining 500-capacity rock clubs is a big one – especially for a hardcore band. Then again, Ceremony has never been anyone’s typical hardcore band. Over the course of four full-lengths, their sound has morphed from no-nonsense brutality toward something much more progressive. They’ve even taken a good deal of flack for it, especially after 2012’s decidedly un-hardcore Zoo, which scaled back on the tempos and the abrasiveness to an unprecedented degree.
As they continue to calm down on record, however, Ceremony become no less caustic as a live band. There was a remarkable resonance between that set in the stage-less room last year and the one that took place on the exceedingly tall stage at The Sinclair. Their cathartic performance wasn’t a bit less furious, regardless of venue, crowd or any other circumstance. Even Zoo’s comparatively restrained songs took on an air of manic intensity, and when the slower-paced tunes like Rohnert Park’s “The Doldrums” did come, they functioned as brief, tense interludes amid the chaos. With dual guitars, an airtight rhythm section and the unhinged Ross Farrar at the helm, Ceremony embodied the essence of a great live hardcore band, losing nothing in the transition from house show to club.
In line with the punk tradition of keeping things fast, loud and brief, the band’s set wrapped up rather quickly. Farrar curiously announced that they were all heading to bed after just over a half-hour, and left us with the ferocious “Kersed” as a send-off. By virtue of sheer intensity though, it was hard to feel cheated. Plus, the night was rounded out with a diverse trio of openers in Back 2 Back, Give and Ed Schrader’s Music Beat. I arrived in time to catch only the very noisy end of Back 2 Back’s set, but Give impressed with insane energy and fantastic hair, while Ed Schrader channeled a particularly weird strand of post-punk in what may be the world’s only bass-and-floor-tom duo.
