“I cut off my arm” — Agriculture’s ‘Bodhidharma’ Live

It’s the middle of a heatwave, so what better time for an icy blast of black metal? If only. Descending into the sold-out Stereo is like stepping into a furnace, 300 sweaty bodies crammed together. Healing Wound give us an initial battering before Agriculture take to the stage, beginning with the first three songs from 2025’s The Spiritual Sound: ‘My Garden’, ‘Flea’ and ‘Micah (5:15am)’.

It speaks to the supreme confidence of the band’s off-kilter, screamo-tinged “ecstatic” black metal that they play ‘Bodhidharma’ fourth in their set. It’s the pinnacle of The Spiritual Sound, I think the best song of that year, possibly the best metal song of the last decade and includes perhaps the greatest guitar solo of all time. High accolades, but I can think of few bands who have pulled off something so outlandish, so effectively. I’ve been obsessed with this song since it was released as a single, so I was itching to finally experience it live.

Cheers and whoops go up as the unassuming drum intro begins, before the towering wave of the main riff rips through the crowd. Its four-note, push-pull current throws you around, mirroring the peaks and troughs of the song. The studio version has a groove, but there’s a heft to the live version that sends the crowd into a frenzy. The first proper pit of the show kicks off and the temperature goes up five degrees.

But we know what’s coming. The riff stops and we drift down.

The crowd joins in with the first vocals of the song — Leah Levinson’s raspy “YOU LOOK LIKE… YOU’RE… DYING” — but we quickly settle into silence as her voice drops into an uncertain whimper. The band is quiet apart from periodic snare hits from drummer Kern Haug and Levinson’s ambient bass rumble, subtle on record but room-shaking live. The oppressive humidity of the venue fills the void, building the tension with each sparse beat, in contrast to Haug’s frantic pace during the rest of the gig. Agriculture perfected the too-long silence in ‘The Glory of the Ocean’ on their self-titled album, and push it to its limit here.

And then we’re back, limbs flailing to escape the undertow. The riff returns with Dan Meyer’s coarse vocals, covering one of metal’s lesser-explored topics: Zen Buddhism. Apprentice monk Huike seeks acceptance from his would-be master, Bodhidharma. The story goes that Bodhidharma fell asleep seven years into a nine-year meditation of staring at a wall, but was so dedicated that he cut off his eyelids so he could continue. Maybe it doesn’t seem so strange for a genre defined by its extremity, as the soundtrack to collective, consensual violence, the churn of human bodies.

The riff breaks, followed by a burst of static anguish that begins Levinson’s second section, but instead of foreboding silence, we have bright, lilting guitar. Gentle vocals detail Bodhidharma’s moment of enlightenment, the ability to see the world as it truly is, a moment to breathe. One final beat of silence builds the tension before the solo, that solo, comes in.

We are launched out of the depths, back above the surface, gasping for air. Guitarist Richard Chowenhill fires off flurries of notes that peak in time with each crash of the riff. It’s impressive in its restraint and pace, demonstrating a dedication to continuity with the rest of the song and band — prioritising, dare I say, oneness over friction and division.

It takes a lot of skill to create something that sounds so effortless, and it looks effortless too — I do a double-take, as it’s not obvious that Chowenhill is even playing. It’s extremely neat and effective composition, its harmony with the rest of the song producing this huge, life-affirming rush. They’re not wrong to describe themselves as “ecstatic”, even with tongues firmly in cheeks. Fittingly, someone in the crowd rises up to crowdsurf, ascending at this moment of unity.

Meyer continues Huike’s story — his devotion to Bodhidharma so great that he cuts off his own arm to prove it. As my tears mix with sweat and the song segues into ‘Hallelujah’, I think of the extreme commitment to art that made four people come together to create something this ludicrous.