This past Friday, I ventured to one of my favorite venues in the city of Chicago, Bottom Lounge, to check out San Franciscan black metal outfit Deafheaven. I had seen Deafheaven play once before; a sold out show at Subterranean, another Chicago venue who hasn't seemed to grasp the positive impact of air conditioning. Thus, seeing Deafheaven play at SubT in the middle of summer when the place was packed to the gills was not very conducive to a pleasant concert experience. However, Bottom Lounge had never steered me wrong before so I was convinced that my ideal live Deafheaven experience would be fulfilled. It surely was and then some. The band played all of their latest album, Sunbather, in its entirety and even threw in a brand new song that was pretty solid. Along with George Clarke's piercing screams, the guitars and drums were thunderous. The band couldn't have performed any better, IMHO. However, there was something amiss, which had nothing to do with band. Rather, all the ire I eventually accrued over the course of the evening was aimed towards my fellow concert-goers.