Dear Push Pits,
I’ve missed you dearly.
Hugs and kisses,
And now onto this dumb review. It’s been a long ass time since I’ve been to a pure metal show with huge bands that have legions of angry, hairy, and occasionally Mexican fans. Far too long. In that time, I had taken up acting like a gorilla who learned that shadow boxing is an effective method to combat caloric intake and the anger issues that come with being on the lower echelons of primate evolution. But I digress. I’d been far removed from trve metal action for too long, not counting the Lich King show a few weeks ago in a basement. It was great to be thrown in the proverbial dunk tank of mosh, having been in many a circle pit here and there, but not much shoving in the vein of a sumo wrestling match.
I am grateful that I went to see Destruction, because Gennardo was standing outside selling tickets to this show for only 10 bucks when the ticket says 15. That alone gets these guys major props in my book, but the music itself is no sloppy affair! They’re the kind of band that doesn’t revisit a song part, so they’re obviously progressive in that manner, but they have a catchiness that comes with being Melodic Death Metal, and the intensity of Thrash at times, so I won’t try to pidgeonhole this one like I did with Aversed… but Progressive MeloDeathrash should work just fine. They displayed great energy, with the guitarist Ben Levin somehow getting his glasses into his mouth and spitting them out somewhere offstage and continuing playing while doing it. Afro Jesus? Probably, but you should check ’em out and support them. Try to get the aforementioned Ben to stand next to Nick Lazarro from Razormaze, because they look wicked similar. Bonus points, khed.
Tragically short set. Like Holocaust or Rwandan massacre tragic. With only 20 minutes to mop the floor with the pent up energy not spent during Black Trip’s set, it got crazy pretty fast. But then agian, that is the average Secrement show, an orgy of excitement and sweat with loud noises. Crowd favorite and closer Botched Boob Job was eschewed in place of a song off the new EP, which was fine, but c’mon… Botched Boob Job, man. Being one of Mass’ most porn obsessed bands aside from Composted, I’m surprised no one was freak dancing to them. That happened later, so more on that… later I suppose.
It took a while for the crowd to warm up, and even the band themselves didn’t look all too excited, but that changed in good time. When Leveling The Plane Of Existence was announced, it was as if someone threw battle pheromones right into the pit area, and it got a bit more passionate. Helps that it has kind of an easy chorus to grasp, and that it’s one of their faster songs. Mid-paced Tech Death is a strange beast, but it’s a beast you’ll want in you. Not too fast as to be blinding, but not so chill you forget you’re listening to Death Metal. With three full length albums, they’re showing no signs of slowing down. At least not tempo-wise. I do declare, however, that the most interesting thing about this set was the fact that vocalist/guitarist Charles Eliott seemed to have a fan constantly trained on him so his hair was blowing back all supermodel-like throughout the whole performance, and no one else seemed to notice.
Vital Remains is one of the evillest bands from ‘Mericuh right about now. Not just because they had the grand poobah of “Satan”, Glen Benton of Deicide do the vocals on their studio albums, or the fact that every song is about Satanic world domination, or their regular explorations of the stratosphere via sunshine green, but they know how to get a crowd at each other’s throats. One question that must be raised about this past show was the amount of karate. Pardon my naïvety, but I believe Vital Remains have no Hardcore influence whatsoever, and are too busy blasting away and being evil to groove in a way that one can throw down to, but y’know what, water under the bridge. The hardcore silliness faded as the set moved on, and was spuriously absent during the last(and best) songs, Hammer Down The Nails and Dechristianize. From then on it was some of the most vicious rounds of Ring Around The Rosie I have experienced, and believe me, there was a lot of falling down. With two bands left and having exhausted my throat, I can confidently say I had a good time during this set.
Origin are quite the anomaly. There’s about 4 billion subgenres of metal, and about 1 billion of those are Death Metal. Origin happen to be Technical Brutal Death Metal, Brutal Technical Death Metal, and Progressive Deathgrind all at once. Ouch. It’s a lot to take in, much like the music itself, but unlike the cumbersome tags that many apply Occam’s razor to and just slap Death Metal on it, Origin’s style is not to be fucked with. While it is zingy and mathy, it’s thick and soupy. The drummer’s also on fuckin’ coke. Or so I believe. Before the show even began, the loudness of the drum set-up made me believe they had begun playing, so I ran in only to see them still tuning guitars. Yes, their drummer is insane, I’ll say it again. With my expertise on Origin mainly being on their last two outputs, Antithesis and Entity, I was slightly unprepared, but amazingly they played the few songs I did know, so I was content. New vocalist Mica Meneke did well in place of Jason Lee, and was much prettier, so all in all, great set, catch ’em live and be wowed. Just try to find a safe place to stand when Mica orders his three point crowd participation plan: Crowdsurfers, headbangers, and a murderous mosh where he demanded the death of at least one participant. YOW!
Double whammy of not being able to fully enjoy a band live: Not having been able to listen to much material beforehand, and having to leave early to catch the train. Kinda sucked since I was hoping they’d play the title track of I, Monarch before my departure, but that’ll have to wait. Until next time, motherfucks!
So I’ll take this opportunity to tell about the weird/funny shit that happened. All in stream of consciousness write it as I remember it format.
1. A certain gentleman in the classiest Acacia Strain shirt I’ve ever seen depicting pornstars sucking cocks and on the back it said “SUCK A DICK”. But that’s not all, as these shirts are common. The guy is a ballerina dancer, having took 10 years of lessons, and busted out a fabulous pirouette. I must applaud him for that, because it was a full on it and he managed to do it with such grace and splendour. Like the Swan Lake of HxC… Moving on.
2. Dirty dancin’ during Abysmal Dawn. DA FUUUCK?
3. A woman crowdsurfing in a summer dress. Not once for the lulz, but twice, goddammit. She’s got balls. Not to say I peeked up her dress and saw them… I’ll shut up now.
4. Origin tossed a water bottle seemingly in my direction, and I gladly picked it up. Sure beats paying 3 bucks for a cup!
5. My pal Alex’ ID somehow got up on stage, and Mica called him up on stage, and asked if he had any requests. In his Kennedy accent he said “Eh, they’re all good!” Exasperated, Mica turned to the tallest person up front and asked what he would like to year. Having yelled Finite, the band all shrugged almost as if planned out, and erupted into Finite. Everyone’s anus bled.
6. Buddy of Nemecide’s dance moves and impressive jump kicks. Dear lord, that guy’s limber.
7. The collective assault on several drunken idiots. We were superheroes, that night, standing up for justice and defensive broads everywhere.
And with that I bid you good day. Until the next show review, which should hopefully be about Devin Townsend/Children Of Bodom, enjoy your meaningless life. Cheers! \m/