Los Angeles’ the Faceless kicked off the night with “Akeldama,” a progressive epic enriched with stirring, melodic breakdowns. However young this band appears, it’s clear that it propelled itself far into a promising career, as this night was only one stop along the band’s globe-spanning tour. The insane, ear-piercing guitar work, melted with ravenous vocals and drums during “An Autopsy,” easily won this writer over.

Cynic broke the night up with an ethereal set, enveloping the room in what felt like eternity-long, jam -band breakdowns. At times, the crowd looked confused by it; some engrossed themselves in audible conversation, while those who knew what to do with the dreamlike sound undulated their heads to the jazzy riffs. Perfectionism could have easily been mistaken by some as pretense, which is to be expected–Cynic hasn’t produced an album in 15 years and its first and only before that has reached legendary status in terms of progressive metal. Needless to say, the band has had time to hone its eerily soothing sound. Haunting emo vocals rich with low growls and zen-like rhythms trickled through the sway of the crowd during “Evolutionary Sleeper,” and served as a mellow introduction to the hell which would be unleashed. Cynic’s humble performance radiated talent, and it was obvious as drummer Sean Reinhert tossed his drum sticks to eager fans, they were happy to be back on the scene.

Swedish headliner Meshuggah revived the room. The crowd could agree on the band’s sound, and the veteran grinder is no stranger to inciting a room into a frenzy. Which was exactly the effect on the crowd as Meshuggah took the stage: every craning neck and restless head bashed in rhythmic motion. The bluesy, technical blast beats sliced every ear like a machete during “Bleed.” Soaring, relentless guitar riffs bounded off of thunderous drums as a grindcore inflicted groove hammered down and all bodies bounded together, seemingly stuck in the riffs.

There were traces of sporadic, politely feeble pits throughout the night that became stronger as Meshuggah raged on. If and when moshing ensued it was quickly broken up by beefy security, which refused to tighten its grip throughout the set. This was a little disheartening for a metal show, but the energy permeating the crowd made up for any disappointment.

Howling, exasperated guitars gave the crowd the release they needed as front-man Jens Kidman pelted the room with crisp, glowering vocals raining down during “Suffer in Truth.” Meshuggah fed the night with a sound pitched against itself–technically delivered breaks mixed with bass-driven hardcore grooves provoked a thrash of movement from every corner of the packed room. It became impossible to stand still with each blast. Despite the restless crowd not quite sure what to do with itself, the night fleshed out into an array of exceptional metal with enough diversity to please any fan–even if they were just standing with their hands in their pockets.

This night brought forth some of the world’s finest examples of grindcore. The show began early as local grinder Misery Index kicked off the night in perfect form. Then, Finland’s Rotten Sound brought breakdown-enriched double kicks of melodic, foreboding drums and poetic vocals, playing tracks from its recent release Cycles.

The room filled up for Norway’s corpse paint-clad 1349 as it scattered a layer of black metal in sonic-boom fashion. It was a refreshing genre change to the mostly death-metal lineup, yet the heaviness of sound emerging from the amps was almost muffled at times, making the precision of each song almost inaudible. Pig Destroyer filled the room with unadulterated blast beats and dark growling vocals. The Virginia outfit’s offerings were short and to the point, filled with spastic breakdowns and carpeting the antsy crowd with heavy, ravenous, old-school death metal riffs.

The fierce stage presence of metal mainstay Suffocation tightened up the pit with riffs of downtempo gloom. The crowd slammed forward to the almost unnatural blast beats of “Entrails of your Suffering”, which was dedicated to all the “lovely ladies in the crowd” by frontman Frank Mullen. Technical chord progressions meandered with infectious guitar riffs of “In Perfect Hatred.” The band brought it down with “Bind, Torture, Kill,” as shirtless bodies pummeled the floor of the pit, causing some to exit with bloodied faces. At this point, some of the audience filed out during the break between bands and the already packed room began to stream to the front.

The night did indeed belong to Carcass. At sound check, the front of the crowd braced themselves as the swelling, pushing bodies from the back crammed together. The room erupted with the first blast of the kick drum followed by infectious melodic breakdowns and thunderous beats. The craning necks of the sweltering and anxious crowd dispersed into a tempest of fury during the technical brilliance of “Buried Dreams,” each kick of the drum invigorated the already explosive room.

Mosh pits developed within the carnage of raging fists and swarming bodies. Crowd surfers plunged through the sea of extended hands and swaying lighters during “Incarnale Solvent Abuse.” Moving seamlessly through songs, Carcass delivered impeccable guitar solos and deep growls, providing intricate and erratic chord progressions standard to the genre, but unmistakably unique to Carcass. There was plenty reason to bang your head, and, hopefully, this recent reunion gets Carcass to return to the studio.