
November 23rd, 2024 – It was one of those nights that felt timeless; Gaerea, Portugal’s faceless harbingers of despair and grandeur, were gearing up for their U.S. tour with Zeal & Ardor, and I had scored a pre-show hang with them at the immortal dive bar Tattooed Moms. Meeting a black metal band there felt serendipitous—graffiti-smeared walls and sticky tables perfectly complemented their visceral ethos.
Inside, the band was already holding court with a ragtag assembly of fans and curious onlookers. I quickly realized I had no idea who anyone was in the band because I have only seen them in their iconic hoods. Introducing myself as the photographer the band, one by one, came up too greet me. For a group shrouded in masks and mystery on stage, they were shockingly approachable off it—beers in hand, laughing at the absurdity of American life, what smothered tots were the best on the menu, and happily greeting fans and signing records in front of an aging Ms. Pac-Man machine.
Photos + Article by Keith Baker ( @avgjoe_photo )









During our conversations I mentioned that it was about a year ago I was first introduced to the band at Underground Arts. The energy during their performance absolutely overwhelmed me. We talked about the tour a bit and how events since that time shaped the latest album Coma. I told them that leading up to this event I had been listening to the album. Expressing my opinion of the album, I was blown away by it’s ability to express such a full range of emotion in every song. Moments of despair then anger, giving way to a sense of vengeance. There are times where you think this could be a soundtrack to a movie. We went on to talk about how it takes a lot to decide how a band matures and what that looks like within genres.
An admin known as “V” from the Gaerea discord channel brought some gifts for the band from the fans custom made for each member, the band is shown unwrapping them in some of the photos. Gaerea were reveling in Philly’s chaotic hospitality.

As the night gathering spilled onto South Street we descended upon Lorenzo & Sons, the legendary home of pizza slices big enough to double as blankets. The band, clad in all-black and speaking in an enticing blend of Portuguese and English, cut through the late-night crowd like shadows in a bustling scene of drunken revelry. I’ll never forget the sight: Gaerea, still cloaked in their ominous aura, devouring greasy, cheesy slices with reverence, their gloves off (metaphorically and literally). It was the most human thing I’d ever seen a black metal band do.

November 24th, 2024 – The next night was a baptism of fire at Union Transfer. Gaerea’s opening set was a thunderstorm of anguish and catharsis. Their masks were back on, anonymity fully restored, as they unleashed their brand of cinematic despair. The crowd was transfixed, hypnotized by their mix of tremolo-picked fury and atmospheric crescendos.










As Gaerea storm the stage, the band immediately enveloped the crowd into a miasma of blistering intensity with “The Poet’s Ballad”. Those opening notes drip like molten iron, and the band’s signature masks glow eerily under the stage lights. Their silhouettes are commanding, whipping the audience into a frenzy as the pummeling blast beats of “Hope Shatters” wash over us like a relentless tide. The sheer, suffocating power of their sound is matched only by the intricacy of their craft, with the soaring melodies of “Unknown” lifting us momentarily above the chaos before slamming us back into the churning void.
Midway through the set, Gaerea proved they’re not just purveyors of raw violence but artists of atmosphere. “Wilted Flower” emerges as a cathartic highlight, its haunting intro evoking a collective shiver before exploding into a maelstrom of riffs that seem to twist time itself.
By the time they close with the devastating “Laude,” the crowd is euphoric, their spirits drawn into the bleak grandeur of Gaerea’s vision. The band exits as they entered—shrouded in mystery, leaving only the echoes of their abyssal hymns lingering in the air.
Zeal & Ardor followed, of course, delivering their explosive gospel of spiritual rebellion and blackened blues. Union Transfer buzzed with a simmering intensity as the headliners took the stage, kicking off their set with the searing “the Bird, the Lion and the Wildkin”, >
Wake of a Nation,” a blistering hymn that felt like a sermon to chaos. The crowd roared, their collective energy channeling straight into the defiant stomp of “Gravedigger’s Chant,” which saw Manuel Gagneux’s vocals swing between soulful and feral like a preacher possessed.
By the time they launched into “Blood in the River,” the room felt transformed into a primal gathering, where fans shouted the haunting refrain, fists pounding the air. The night reached its fever pitch with “Run,” a brutal sonic assault that whipped the crowd into a frenzy, cementing the night as a darkly exhilarating celebration of catharsis and defiance. And this was just halfway through their set..
But for me, the night belonged to Gaerea. Their performance was a stark reminder of the power of art to straddle the sacred and the profane. The same hands that reached for Lorenzo’s slices tore through sonic realms just hours later, melding the ordinary and extraordinary into a memory that felt like a fever dream.
As the “Clawing Out” encore roared and the crowd began to dissipate, I found myself listening back to the distant laughter of late-night wanderers. It struck me then: Gaerea’s magic lies not just in their anonymity or intensity but in their ability to be simultaneously otherworldly and human. One night, they’re your pizza buddies; the next, they’re purveyors of transcendence.