Showing posts with label show reviews. Show all posts
Showing posts with label show reviews. Show all posts

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Repulsion/Pig Destroyer/Brutal Truth, 07.31.2009. Thoughts and Observations


Last Friday I picked my sad sack of old bones off the couch and rode the train into Brooklyn to catch Repulsion, Pig Destroyer, and Brutal Truth at the Brooklyn Masonic Temple.


The hottest new heavy metal venue!

You're probably thinking what I was thinking when I first heard about this show--Brooklyn Masonic Temple? I'm not Jewish and I know very little about the religion, but a temple is just about the last place I'd expect to see Repulsion, Pig Destroyer, and Brutal Truth performing. It's a huge, old stone building and the bands played in what looked like a school gymnasium. It's actually a pretty cool place, except for the fact that there's no air conditioning and once the bands started playing you could cut the BO with a knife. It was especially great when everyone would go outside between bands and loiter on the sidewalk and the locals would walk past and gawk at the mutant showgoers. For those of you that don't know the Brooklyn Masonic Temple is located in beautiful Fort Greene--a trendy, prohibitively-expensive brownstone neighborhood filled with the kind of annoying, wealthy thirtysomethings that make me green with envy.

I should mention that Mr. Albert Mudrian, Editor-in-Chief of Decibel Magazine, was kind enough to put me on the guest list so my cheap ass didn't have to pay to get in. He was also nice enough to put SkullKrusher on the list, but he decided to bail at the last minute to go out on a date with some chick he met on eHarmony. The sad, pathetic old loser claims he got laid, but I know better. My guess is that his date went something like this.

The show was sponsored by Decibel who were giving out magazines like Auntie Anne's gives out pretzels at the mall. I also received a drink ticket upon entering that entitled me to one free Ardbeg cocktail. Being the alcoholic that I am I had to indulge. Half-assedly mixing fancy, smoky scotch with ginger beer, however, was not a good idea. Instant headache.


Real life radiation sickness.

I have no idea why, but Repulsion played first. They weren't nearly as haggard as I expected for guys in their mid 40s that grew up in Flint, Michigan. Turns out only two of the guys were original members and the other two scabs were from Exhumed. Worst of all--NO DAVE GRAVE!!?? (WTF!?) They ran through most if not all of Horrified and did a Venom cover, but honestly the sound was so shitty I could barely make out what they were playing. All you could hear was the guitar and some tap-tap-tapping of drums in the background. The vocals were almost completely inaudible (at least from where I was standing). Why is it so hard for metal bands to not sound like complete shit live? When will people learn that triggering completely ruins the sound of drums? To top it all off I saw some of the worst stage diving I have EVER seen during Repulsion's set. Some mongoloid got so excited he even hit Scott Carlson in the face with his microphone. For an idea as to how awesome Repulsion was live back in the day watch this.


Pig Destroyer's DJ hard at work.


Next up was Pig Destroyer. I was a big PD fan in high school and college, but I haven't listened to or paid them any attention in years. They still sound exactly the same as I remember--fast modern grindcore with chugging thrashy riffs--but they now have a DJ who plays samples, twiddles knobs, drinks beer, fistbangs, throws water at the crowd, tells people to mosh, and who at one point pulled out what looked like a belt sander and proceeded to re-enact my favorite Razor album cover. If this guy's actually getting paid he might just have the best job in the world. I like how Scott Hull wears Under Armour wristbands when he plays. Kevin Sharp stood next to me the whole time and he still wears that stupid cowboy hat, has a huge beer gut, and was wearing mandals.


A couple of sad old men.

I stuck around for most of Brutal Truth's set, which is a lot longer than I should have. I was really into Need to Control when I was in high school, but if you put a gun to my head now and demanded that I recite the lyrics to a single Brutal Truth song the walls would be painted with the contents of my skull. The singer/guitarist from Lethargy (now there's a band that actually should reunite) is playing guitar for them now, which I didn't know. I wonder how jealous he is that Bill and Brann went on to fame and fortune with Mastodong while he's stuck playing with a washed up, reunited band no one cares about? The only good thing about Brutal Truth is Rich Hoak. He's a terrible drummer--my 80 year old grandmother could play a faster blastbeat, but he makes the most hilarious drumming faces. I also managed to take a picture with Dan Lilker and he is easily a foot taller than me and very hairy. He was, however, too embarassed to show his baby teeth. Note his patented pose, which he ALWAYS uses. See proof here.


A short sweaty Italian and a tall sweaty Jew.


There were so many gross, sweaty, fat shirtless dudes at this show I wanted to puke. There were, however, a surprising number of attractive females who looked completely out of place. I made the mistake of not weaing earplugs because I hate them and because the show didn't seem that loud, but of course my ears were ringing for days afterwards. I am officially an old man. I even spotted a couple of nerds walking around with copies of Infinite Jest in their hands. Who the fuck reads at a metal show?

The next day I went to work and afterwards went to a beer garden and drank for eight hours straight. I proceeded to lose my wallet (which was kindly returned to me by a lady sitting behind me) and both of my credit cards (did not find them). What a fucking weekend.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Winds of Plague & Terror bring wigger black metalcore to the Bluegrass State

This is what hardcore shows look like in Kentucky.

I somehow found myself in Covington, Kentucky this Sunday for a metalcore show featuring Winds of Plague, Emmure, Terror, All Shall Perish, The Ghost Inside, and some Christian moshcore bands whose names I forget.

"If you smoke near my merch I will karate chop you into a million pieces. Faggot."

Moshcore rednecks don't like the gays
The first thing I noticed was how much people at this show liked to say "faggot." I'm far from the PC police: I love the GG Allin, Meat Shits, Gut, Necro, and all kinds of random goregrind/pornogrind. Even with nearly 20 years of sleazy grindcore under my belt, I have to admit I was kind of shocked to see the word "faggot" twice at this show, and even more shocked that nobody seemed to care.

"God said you're a faggot."

The Mystery Method: it' not just for chicks!
I'm a big fan of the VH1 show The Pickup Artist, in which a douchelord named "Mystery" teaches a bunch of nerds how to become master pickup artists. The methodology they use is called "The Mystery Method," and while it is definitely more than a little ridiculous, it works! I've used it with great success to chat up hot, crazy chicks over the past few months. The basic concepts are simple: you use an opening line (called a "gambit") to break the ice with a group of people (a "set"). From there, you employ a variety of techniques to keep the conversation going and move toward closing the deal. For example, you attempt to gain the upper hand by playfully criticizing the target (called "throwing negs"). You might also DHV (demonstrate higher value) by telling them you have to leave in a minute (an "FTC," false time constraint). You look for IOIs (indicators of interest), and if you don't see them, roll off (stop talking to the set). There are tons of other concepts, but you get the idea.


Mystery compares meeting women to playing the 12th level of a video game without being able to save

Anyway, I've been seeing this girl and things are going well, so I'm turning my attention from chicks to making more friends that are dudes. The great thing about the Mystery Method is that it works with any group of strangers, not just the ladies! For example, I saw a three set of old hardcore dudes standing near me, and deployed my gambit. "Hey," I asked, "you guys look old and tired like me, how late is this show supposed to last?" I took it from there, looking for IOIs and threading to new material accordingly, and before long I had three new friends. Say what you want, but shows aren't just for moshing and scamming on dumb scene girls- you can actually make friends there too!

For example, I still remember when Lucho and I met back in 1998 while we were both working the door at a show in Columbus, Ohio. Gene Hoglan's Balls and I met at some show in New Jersey in the 00s, and while I don't remember exactly when, I also met Awakening (the jerk who never posts anymore) at a show in 1997 or 1998.

Speaking of dumb scene girls, though, I ran into the daughter from the mom/daughter combo at the Brokencyde show the other week. I made eye contact with her from across the bar, giving her one of those "shame on you" kind of looks that a school teacher would give you while looking over their glasses. She got really nervous and scurried away.

Merch guy's away message while he sang Ezec's part in "Spit My Rage": Sup? Wah... Gone moshing for Terror. Back before the end of the set!

Terror
I went to this show with my friend from work who knows absolutely nothing about hardcore, but used to live with one of the guys from Terror by coincidence. We asked the merch guy if Doug was around, and he explained that he had just quit the band, got fired from his job at some mail order place, and was working as a doorman at some bar (I'm guessing the Hemlock). I bought a "Suffer to Return Harder" shirt and thought about how awesome it would look on me at the gym.



Scott Vogel was in tremendous form that night, with some great Vogelisms. Two gems: "We are not a rock band. We are not cool. We are fucked up kid just like everyone in this room." "We're all here for the same thing, whether we are black, white, or brown. Dick. Pussy." I also remembered that Scott used to date/fuck my neighbor when I lived in Cleveland about 10 years ago, so I told the merch guy, "Hey, tell Scott that a girl named J**** H******* is here and wants to talk to him." Anyway, they played all my favorite songs like "One With The Underdogs" and "Spit My Rage," and if I wasn't about to go hang out the previously-mentioned girl, I would have moshed my balls off. I didn't want to either get too sweaty or get punched in the mouth or something because that would inhibit my ability to make out.


Amazing lyrics: "Busters fall down when we're barking commands. Atlas ain't got shit on our steez."

Winds of Plague & Emmure
I was hoping to interview Winds of Plague for this post, but the press guy at Century Media blew me off and wouldn't return my calls. Anyway, I left before they played because I was in a hurry to see that hipster hottie. I kinda wanted to see them, but it was getting kinda late, and as much as I like their brand of moshcore... if you saw her you would understand. I finished off the last of my drink and bounced- but hopefully I'll get a chance to catch Winds of Plague this summer.