It was a dark and stormy night. Or it might have been. As anyone who has ever been to the Minibar knows, the room is a windowless tomb. Just the sort of venue you'd want for a three-band black metal bill.

Barbelith started the night a bit after 8:00. The Baltimore-based project is led by Billy Jarboe, who provided the tortured wails that have defined the band from its early depressive black metal roots, through its slow atmospheric heights and lo-fi blast beats, to its current post-black metal resting point. Live, Jarboe was joined by additional guitarist Damián Anton Ojeda, bassist Marwa Davis, and drummer Adam Smith. The act's fifteen-minute set was defined by shifting notes played with aggressive tremolo, technical leads and solos, precise bass lines that occasionally found interesting chords, and drums that were as busy as could be. The moments of intensely heavy bliss provided tranquility. The shrieks of agony made sure it didn't last.

After a half-hour break, the four musicians returned to the stage – this time as Trhä. Thét Älëf (Ojeda's identity in Trhä) was now in charge, and he meant business. He screeched his vocals and punctuated them with grunts. His lyrics were unintelligible, sung in languages he developed. His songs paired tricky blasts of black metal aggression with knotty post-punk compositions. Occasionally the quartet slowed, daring to flirt with slam hardcore. And why not? Thét Älëf had the prerequisite hardcore stank face when his breakdowns got really nasty. But most of the time he smiled. So did Jarboe, who spent every free moment pumping his fist in joyous excitement. Davis was less demonstrative, only smiling once after a particularly tricky passage in the finale ("tawmnwa jën’eb imqomaha£ i non ovhenba den Ωevun µen bojms nja lëful’he agsaw∫ i ega ∫ami‡en dëhajmasë ge cëppen ë∫ najcëgë qonct") that left my jaw on the floor. Smith was focused. You don't see many drummers playing from sheet music at Minibar. Sure, this wasn't the band for me, but those squirrelly guitars, the dexterous bass, and virtuosic drums held me rapt throughout the thirty-minute set.

Headliner Saidan was something different altogether. The Nashville project's live set skipped the cryptic languages, mental anguish, and complex brutality, and instead dove headlong into camp, corpse paint, and fun. I'm not sure they see it that way though. They seem to take this pretty seriously. The band is the project of duo vocalist/guitarist Splatterpvnk and drummer Hundosai, with touring support from guitarist Luthious and bassist umm Maria? She probably has a spooky-sounding name too, but I can't find it. Backing tracks provided the necessary evil orchestra. The resulting sound was a sort of blackened hair metal. Is that even a thing? Maybe, and I'm here to tell you that it's a delight. There were catchy hooks amid tremolo picking. There were finger-tapped solos. Splatterpvnk's vocals were gruff, tight, and raw, carrying over some raspy DNA from Venom's Cronos, but adding modern black metal screech. Near the end of the set there was an honest-to-goodness power ballad with clean vocals. Blackie Lawless would be proud. Its material was still intense, and its lyrics still terrifying, but its love letter to Visual Kei delivers more smiles than terrors. I guess that makes Saidan just about right for Minibar.