"God Doesn’t Care": Pentagram Is Up and Running at Paper Tiger

Doom metal trailblazers Pentagram returned to Paper Tiger on May 13 with a set that traced more than five decades of heavy music history.

Formed in 1971 in Virginia, Pentagram helped lay the foundation for American doom metal with a sound often likened to early Black Sabbath. Led by the infamous Bobby Liebling, whose tumultuous life has become underground lore and was chronicled in the 2011 documentary Last Days Here, Pentagram’s latest chapter finds renewed energy thanks in part to a viral revival on TikTok and a growing interest from younger audiences.

The evening opened with performances by Texas-based psych rockers Smokey Mirror and Eternal Witch, a San Antonio heavy rock outfit.

Lauren Hernandez was there to witness the chaos. Here’s how it unfolded through her eyes.

Sad

Sad is cry

Sad is weird

Sad is tears

Sad is a big frown

Sad is like a broken heart.

– A poem by Finley, my 3rd-grade student

Sadness doesn’t exist in the mass of people at the Paper Tiger right now. All eyes are locked on Bobby, the Godfather of Doom. His eyes are locked on everyone at once, and everyone at once is jumping, pushing, grinning, shouting, sweating, blissful.

Before Pentagram was Eternal Mitch – I mean Eternal Witch. I think they would’ve been really great if the lead singer was wearing, like, a cape or something. Some glitter or fake blood, maybe. I’m sick of the whole trend of musicians dressing like normal people. It’s boring. I don’t care. Your music is never good enough on its own. Dress up a bit. Stand out. I won’t remember you tomorrow.

But my girlfriend is reading this over right now and is telling me to be nicer. So I’ll let you know that I liked their little doom songs. They were very nice to hear. And the lead singer wasn’t feeling his best AND it was his anniversary. Hope that makes me sound a little more human…

Before Pentagram was Smokey Mirror. I think that’s a Dutch Interior song. I much rather be listening to Dutch Interior.

Smokey Mirror was great for about twelve minutes.

“I hated them. All their songs were like ten minutes long and just went *imitates guitar solo*” said Cyrus.

They were dressed very dapper, though. Boots, buckles, snazzy button-up shirts. The guitarist – I wanna say his name was Tyler, but I might totally be making that up – was telling us about his organic farm he shares with his family. He grows peppers. So fucking sick.

Sometime before Pentagram, I met up with my friends in the merch line. The merch guy was the biggest asshole I’ve ever met in my life. No doubt about it.

“Could I maybe switch this out for a small?”

“DO YOU SEE THE FUCKING LINE?” He yelled, ripping the medium shirt out of my hands, throwing it down, and chucking a small one at me instead.

I can’t fucking stand assholes. Die.

And I ended up taking some insane pictures of him, too, seeing as he was Pentagram’s drummer. God, what a fucking dick.

Pentagram was the best band I’ve seen and the funnest concert that I can remember.

“He’s up and running!” The guitarist said about Bobby. The whole crowd was fawning over him, pushing towards the stage nonstop just to reach their hands towards God.

“You want it hard? That’s why we play so loud!” Bobby yelled.

You see, Pentagram not only sounded the part, they looked it. They acted it. They put on the show, worked the crowd. They did the poses, said the right things, and that’s why people love them so much. They deliver on all their promises, and leave it all out on the stage – grimey, talented sludge.

You would never know that the AC went out on their bus that morning. That Slint’s Spiderland was a huge inspiration for them. That the guitarist has been wearing the same Christian Death shirt for five days but somehow doesn’t smell (we checked.)