The Hungarian film from which Wrekmeister Harmonies takes its name is supposedly a difficult watch — at least for an outsider. Filmed in all black-and-white, it’s composed of 39 long single-camera takes. Predictable analogy aside, Wrekmeister Harmonies offer up a similar sort of disquiet and inaccessibility in their hour-long drone metal compositions. On stage, spaced out notes created a rumbling tension, as vocalist/founder J.R. Robinson howled over droning feedback — the effect being more uneasiness than full-on dread. On occasion, their doom metal tendencies came to the fore, as Robinson’s live band erupted in Neurosis-esque climaxes. In effect, this created the feeling of being trapped in a sauna slowly sinking into molten earth. When they got heavy, they were heavy.

Bell Witch, on the other hand, were a bit underwhelming. I liked Four Phantoms enough, but for whatever reason, their music didn’t seem to translate so well live. Long stretches of time would pass with a gently strumming chord and the occasional tom hit before the duo would come together on a crushing doom riff. On record, this approach works well, and I say this as someone who’s not a huge fan of funeral doom to begin with. Wheras bands like Grief, Corrupted, or the Body reflect a sense of misanthropy and vitriol, Bell Witch are more apt towards self-loathing than anything. The exceedingly slow tempos evoke a sense of mournful dread, as if we were all witness to a funeral procession. But on stage, these long stretches of time only put me to sleep. Bassist and vocalist Dylan Desmond’s mumbling, Gregorian-style chants mostly just left me confused and increasingly unaware of where I was, while drummer/vocalist Jesse Shreibman’s death growls came off as morbid in the truest sense of the word, as if he was imprisoned in a pitch-black cavern, his very spirit being sucked out of existence. There is certainly a melancholic undertone to Bell Witch’s music, but for whatever reason, it didn’t come across as well as I had hoped.

Finally, the headlining band, Pallbearer, came on stage. The traditional doom group — owing more to Candlemass than Eyehategod, or even Black Sabbath — has a certain vulnerability to them that is all too lacking in an overwhelmingly masculine genre. There’s desperation in Pallbearer’s music, and, to a certain degree, it’s uplifting. The majestic element that they’re known for did come off a bit overwrought on the live stage, but otherwise, they were ungodly heavy.

The band played a mixture of songs from 2012’s Sorrow and Extinction and 2014’s Foundations of Burden, and perhaps most notably, two new songs. Lead guitarist/vocalist Joseph Rowland admitted that these songs were still works in progress, so we got to hear them sans vocals. In a way, this was almost preferable. For how entrancing their music came across, I found that the vocals often took me out of it. Don’t get me wrong: Rowland’s vocals are incredible, and arguably the defining element of Pallbearer’s music. It takes a certain level of mastery to be able to pull off those cleans night after night, and all things considered, he did a superb job. Baring his soul on stage, I imagined him as a sort of introspective preacher, standing at the top of the Ozarks with hands outstretched, in a sort of Jesus Christ pose that was neither self-indulgent nor imitating. Pallbearer were the clear highlight of the night, and I definitely won’t miss them again.