The American band 16 Horsepower is to Belgium what an earthquake of 6 on the Richter scale is to Italy: something that comes back with clock-like regularity. This Friday, after T/W and Pukkelpop, the band was on a Belgian stage for the fourth time already this year in the Vooruit in Gent. Luckily without a trace of routine or boredom, which seems impossible anyway when you have David Eugene Edwards as a singer, a man who sings as if he's being chased by the devil himself.

Compared to their previous concerts at T/W and Pukkelpop, the Friday show proved to be the best. This seems normal, actually, when you compare the circumstances: at T/W a real flood drowned their show. At Pukkelpop they fruitlessly had to compete against the there-are-twelve-more-bands-playing-at-this-moment-feeling of the crowd. But Friday night in the Vooruit everything went well: 1500 fans packed together, desert-like temperatures, beery smell and cigarette smoke were a perfect match for the murky countryblues that boomed inhumanly loudly from the speakers.

16 Horsepower once started as a semi-acoustic threesome, but the band has outgrown that stage a long time ago. Complemented with a violin player and an extra guitarist, they lashed out furiously roughly at times. Take the opening song For Heaven's Sake for example, built up from a dash of Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, two spoonfuls of Johnny Cash and a measuring cup of Sex Pistols. Or closing song Black Soul Choir, a song about how all people are equal, but only because we are all liars: every man is equal, yeah, every man's a liar... [sic] It's good to see things from a different perspective once in a while.

Struck by lightning

Responsible for all these gloomy thoughts is vocalist, songwriter, religious fanatic and bible connoisseur David Eugene Edwards. A man who saw his father die when aged five, was raised by his grandfather, a Methodist preacher [sic], and has ever since been petrified of being struck death by lightning by the big boss in heaven whenever he kisses a girl. Every syllable that Edwards squeezes out of his voice box is soaked with guilt and sense of sin. It all produced a holy-water font of oppressive, intense moments last Friday.

In between songs Edwards did what he had been doing during all those previous concerts: sit deathly still on his little chair in front of the stage, strapping on a mandolin, banjo or bandoneon and at all times: keeping quiet. No thank you or word of welcome; not because he so desperately wanted to play the arrogant rockstar, no, but because he already gives away so many intimate secrets in his music that only crispy clean silence is appropriate in between songs.

Yet another difference from other artists: whenever Edwards does open his mouth, he means it. Seldom heard someone say "Thank you for clapping" in such a humble and polite way on stage.

In short: 16 Horsepower on Friday did what your village pastor hasn't been capable of doing in a long time: taking sin, death, faith and the bible as building blocks for a good hour of simmering and breathtaking entertainment. Dear Cardinal Daneels, you don't know just what you've missed.