The Lord Weird Slough Feg

Jan. 22, Covered Wagon Saloon

Mike Scalzi, singer-guitarist for the Lord Weird Slough Feg, figured out their show was being reviewed early in the evening when he spotted a Bay Guardian photographer. Scalzi was surprised, I was later informed by a mutual friend, since the band apparently hadn't been mentioned in the paper before. My friend also told me that Scalzi had cautioned the photographer to note that they were not some new band, a fact that I'll mention because it's true. These self-tagged "majestic mind-control metal" eccentrics have been doing their thing for more than a decade, and they put out their first album in 1997.

I already had in mind a "these guys have been around forever and don't get no respect" theme for this review. After witnessing the pure, unstoppable display of riff-powered majesty they put on, I feel even more strongly about that point. I also have to mention the great opening set by local veterans Brocas Helm, who have been around even longer than Slough Feg – since the early '80s.

Slough Feg had to know what they'd be up against, since the band's other guitarist, John Cobbett, booked the show as part of the ongoing Lucifer's Hammer series. I imagine the two bands are friends on some level; at the very least, they're kindred spirits – both have a bigger following in Europe than here at home, where this kind of music is ridiculed by people who either are really uptight and have no sense of humor or don't know anything about how hard it is to write, rehearse, and perform this stuff. The Lord of the Rings may have sparked an increase in codpiece sales and Middle-earth society memberships, but its success has not trickled down to the fantastickal Maiden-metal underground niche these bands occupy – Tuesday's crowd at the Covered Wagon was pretty much the regular crew of Lucifer's Hammer diehards.

But while their local obscurity keeps Slough Feg's members from living rock-star lifestyles, they know how to play the part once they get onstage. They act like they own the stage, delivering the goods as if they were playing for an audience of thousands with an elaborate, Queen-like set instead of standing on a cramped, dingy stage that's not even two feet off the ground (no offense to the C.W.). Like their sister band Hammers of Misfortune's – and Brocas Helm's, for that matter – their music is grandiose and dramatic but not pompous. It demands a big spectacle, and just watching Slough Feg play and forgetting everything else, it's easy to imagine them being huge in some parallel universe, if not the one we inhabit here.

Actually, that parallel universe, or something close to it, anyway, exists in real life. Looking out at the not-so-huge crowd while reflecting on the bands that had played that night, Scalzi started to say something along those lines. "Cold Mourning, Slough Feg, Brocas Helm: in another world – known as Germany ..." He paused briefly, before continuing, "but we're in San Francisco – " A friendly heckler cut him off, and he gave up the rant and laughed.

Slough Feg's music is all galloping drumbeats, dual lead guitars, deep, noble-warrior vocals, and an underlying Celtic tinge. They're like Iron Maiden or Thin Lizzy, but a notch darker and heavier. If that appeals to you; if you like the original metal heroes or any of their modern descendants, including the Fucking Champs; if you're more of the indie rock persuasion – then you owe it to yourself to see Slough Feg the next time they play. (Will York)