When we're lucky, this is the sort of thing we get shooting no-flash. Heroin chic is still big with the cello set. Yes. This is the "look of death" picture.

I tell you, these late shows are really getting out of hand. I appreciate the fact that they are 18 and over so there aren't any annoying little bastards running around, but this standing around watching bands till 3:00 a.m. totally wipes me out. Man, I must be getting old.

The two opening acts on this evening's bill only served to perpetuate my mixed feelings about late shows. I can’t even remember their names, or what they did for that matter. Actually, we missed the first band. They might have been amazing; I have no idea. I think the second band was called Parlour. Their music paralleled their moniker: slow, inoffensive and just sorta there. Then I looked down at my watch and realized that these bozos had been on for 45 minutes. It was now tomorrow, and Mogwai hadn’t even come close to hitting the stage yet.

Eventually, the five rather unassuming members of Mogwai sauntered onto the spacious Metro stage to try and wake the standing dead.

They began slowly, the five shadowy Scots lovingly picking and plucking their way through new song "Sine Wave". Its gentle demeanor and sparse playing brought the crowd to a minor fervor -- well, as much fervor as could be mustered by a new song that the crowd had never heard before. A gentle wave of applause and shouting greeted the familiar intro to "Stanley Kubrick". This gorgeous and delicate rendition of the EP+2 favorite segued brilliantly into the new, cello-enhanced "Jesus". It wound and spiraled its way into the upper stratosphere, layers of keyboards and gentle electronics humming underneath Stuart Braithwaite’s careful glockenspiel picking and mournful cello.

Editor/Photographer's Note: It was at around this time that I and another photographer who'd been peacefully -- well, more or less peacefully, though we "accidentally" shot a few flash pictures in what I (ahem) assure you (ahem) was (ahem) thoroughly inadvertant defiance of the "no flash" rule -- shooting pictures and checking out Mogwai's Enchanted Forest of Effects Pedals were collared by a Metro staffer and advised that our photo passes did not entitle us to be in the photo pit area. This, of course, is ludicrous, especially since we'd followed one of the venue's people in there and been told to have a great time shooting pictures. I suspect Mogwai wasn't in on this decision. The other photographer told me he spotted Mogwai's tour manager scowling in the wings, looking less than pleased at our photojournalistic efforts, and I suspect this is why we were asked to leave. Luckily, we already had plenty of photos, some of which you'll see here...including one which clearly expresses certain band members' feelings about flash photography.

Things really got rolling with raucous and stirring versions of old favorites like "New Paths to Helicon Pt. 2", "X-Mas Steps" and "CODY", which found lead guitarist/singer Braithwaite alternately sitting Indian style and thrashing violently about the stage, twisting his guitar into all sorts of angular shapes. The remainder of the set was dedicated to a clutch of new songs, most of which fell towards the more delicate end of the spectrum, as well as a ripping version of live favorite "New Paths to Helicon Pt. 1". But nothing they had done during the set could prepare the crowd for the encore that awaited them.

As the band trudged back onto the stage, Braithwaite muttered something that was all but intelligible due to his thick Scottish brogue. They then set about plucking out "Jewish" -- presumably a new song, but absent from the track listing of the forthcoming Rock Action. What began life as a pleasant piece of guitar-art soon erupted into the most unholy blast of noise I have ever heard in my life. The "Scottish Guitar Army" was out in full force, three guitarists flailing and manipulating their axes in a horrifically loud and slow-burning dirge that lasted the better part of twenty minutes. The sound ricocheted off of walls, amps, drums and curtains as the monstrous cacophony enveloped the club. At one point Braithwaite even stood on his guitar. One by one the members of Mogwai staggered off, nearly as overwhelmed by the racket they had created as the audience, who now stood awestruck (with many covering their ears) before them.

As I ambled out of the club, I was dazed, confused and quite uncertain of exactly what had transpired onstage only minutes earlier. It’s pretty safe to say that I am now completely terrified of Mogwai. Something tells me that this time, the nightmares are just going to keep on comin’.

Article by Jason Jackowiak. Photos by George Zahora.