One Doesn’t Simply Walk Into A World Of Pain: Ringworm/Nails in Allston

Even though this show and Summer Slaughter happened last week, I’m writing this review now. Why? Black Metal Sucks. And It’s hard to write reviews when you’ve got company over. Gotta be somewhat social occasionally.

Meet Your Meat

PanzahBastahd

Pic related

It seems almost criminal for PanzerBastard to have so little energy during their sets. They play Groovy Rock’n’Metal with touches of Black Metal and D-Beat here and there, so possibly not the absolute most mentally stimulating music, but it’s stuff to get into a barfight to, I tell ya.

Go punch a three headed dog.

PanzerBastard keep it short’n’sweet, much like Keith’s junk, and threw in the obligatory cover, which will either be Motörhead or Celtic Frost depending on which band he deems to be the greatest ever on that given night. So Motörhead – Iron Fist it was! Now I’m gonna go get tanked.

New Lows

The man. The legend. The Burger King chicken sandwich.

New Lows will inspire much shinkickery amongst you hardcore lads. Lots of stagediving, mic-dropping, and lyric yellery as well. Not so much the lyrics as a rough imitation of Shawn’s staccato barks, but hell, it’s something. These guys put on an intense show. The poor amps were fighting to breathe, and several people were probably tearing up their vocal chords in a similar fashion. Usually it takes a few bands to get me to a raspy 2–year-smoker voice, but New Lows accomplished that in about a half hour. Poor microphone got its fair share of sweaty hardcore kid saliva on it, as well as being misplaced for large portions of some songs, some of which was my fault, but hey, it’s Hahdcoah, and if you’re not trying to steal the microphone from the vocalist, you’re not a fan.

Bitter End

Hardcore is the only genre where yelling in someone’s face is considered polite.

I went into this one kinda blind, so I didn’t know any lyrics, any song parts, nothing, but  I must give them major credit for their energy. Of course, hardcore bands lacking energy are hard to come by, but hell, if you can inspire someone who has heard nary a note of your music to get in the pits and risk injury, you’re good. ‘Nuff said.

Nails

The Gibson Explorer chose a worthy hero

Nails is a band that’s known for fucking audiences in the ass and leaving with nary a word other than announcing the titles of songs, but this time around they were a bit more conversational, pumping up the crowd for Ringworm and inviting another vocalist onstage for what I’m assuming was a cover song. But yeah… ouch. If you shout enough, it feels like you did sit-ups, I’ve discovered.

Does your skull feel smaller?

Ringworm

The caged Crossover band sings

Ringworm is yet another band I didn’t know much of anything by, except for the song Urine, which is fuckin’ awesome. It’s shit that’ll make you run around in circles like a coked up lab rat, but also punch your nearest neighbor so hard their tooth hits the ceiling, which did happen. Lots of people got kicked, punched, roundhoused, tackled, and all-out just wailed on in many ways, including your friendly neighborhood black man. I guess that’s what happens when a band knows how to meld Thrashy speed with Hardcore grooves. Well they kinda were the progenitors of the whole damn genre, no biggie.

So yes, lots of chills, lots of thrills, lots of violence and yelling. Your everyday hahdcoah show. I say, I must attend more of these. The more danger of physical harm, the better, I’ve found. Nothing like nearly being spinkicked by a middle-aged man to wake you up to the beauty of aggression. And with that I bid you farewell until tomorrow, where I’ll write about Summer Slaughter, or at least what I remember of it. Cheers!

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