This shall be a quick one, as this was a relatively short-ish show, and not too eventful, but still packed with Southern Fried flavor that we all know and love, unless you’re vegan.
Kyng bored the sperms out of me, and I’ll tell ya why; They’re a Southern Hard Rock/Groove Metal band. Right there they’ve already given me a 75% chance of not liking ’em, so they had a chance to redeem themselves by showing me that they had a little somethin’ special. Needless to say if you read the beginning of this paragraph, they failed on a critical level by not bringing anything interesting to the table. Yeah, they were okay when they decided to speed up and make thigs a bit heavier, most notably on their last song, but all-around it was the kind of band that induced several early smoke and piss breaks. Safe to say, I’m not sure if Kyng will go far with their brand of Southern comfort, being from Los Angeles and not entirely convincing with it. I’m not gonna lay into them too hard, since they didn’t actually suck, but they’re just not my thing and I’d like to avoid their brand of Rock’n’Roll if I can.
Corrosion Of Conformity
Yet again, a band I really wish I hadn’t been too lazy to get around to before I got to see them. I wasn’t really planning on coming to this show, but changed my mind the day before, so there I was, eagerly anticipating the carnage to come, or so I had hoped. All I knew about COC was that they’re a Sludge Metal band with some Hahdcoah leanings, much like the rest of them. What I didn’t know was that this line-up is much closer to that of the older COC, and thus more inclined to play the Hahdcoah stuff more than the Sludge. And that they did, bitches and niggaz, and the crowd fucken loved it. One thing I will say about this crowd is that they absolutely did NOT know how to slam it down. At almost any show you’ll get a few people who don’t understand how moshing works, but that seemed to be everyone but four in that pit. Of the small group that seemed to know how to properly appreciate Hardcore influenced music, one was aimless in his ministrations, and another second was promptly shoved to the ground by some dickhole. A third was circlepitting like Roadrunner on PCP, and it was fun to watch. In short, COC fans just don’t know how to breakdance, but I did enjoy the music, and the handsome men on stage making some cool Southern faces, which is how I assume everyone looks down there.
The bassist/vocalist kinda reminds me of the guy in Nuclear Assault, what with his hearty shouting with his teeth clenched as if vocalizing was his soul’s version of a BDSM fantasy being realized, and the guitarist can effortlessly go from Sludgy beatdowns to Punky Thrash gallops. The drummer ain’t no slob either, pounding those skins like they owed him money. On a side note, judging from some pictures from years ago and today, he certainly has become a bit of a Larry Joe Campbell doppelgänger.
Or I could just be making shit up.
Clutch is a bit like Kyng in that they are Southern Hard Rock/Metal, but they got lucky as fuck in that I like them very much and have yet to hear something bad by them. Why? Because they keep it fresh to def. Their lyrics are fun to read/hear, they have a fluid style that can go from barebones Rock’n’Roll, and Blues while also having heavy grooves that excite the rowdy ruff boy in all of us. Clutch shows have gained infamy for drunken fights and all sorts of debauchery, so House Of Blues security seemed a bit more beefy than usual tonight. Hell you could barely sit down for 5 minutes before a man in blue told you it wasn’t okay.
Clutch may not sound like much at first listen, but they’ll take hold and make you love them. They’re so catchy you can’t hate them. And not in the pop sense either, because it’s not insipid garbage one can write in a matter of minutes. Clutch may be simple and groovy, and even goofy too, as their opening rap about money will show you. I have no idea where the hell that came from, but it made no sense and I must find out where it comes from. Anyhow, onto the real show review. Ah, it was hot as an elephant’s undercarriage in there, and smelled of spilled beer, as does my shirt as there was some beer spilled on it. I knew Clutch would get a bit violent judging from reports of a show last year where a buddy of mine got into a scuffle, but man, those pits were nonstop. One couldn’t enter them without being ready to meet all the jetsam and flotsam of society rolling about unabated. It was a bit more fun to watch the crowd than the band, even though Neil’s stage presence resembles that of a preacher who just had a few energy drinks, with a passion and facial fuzz to boot! This man must’ve been a pastor at some point, because he knows how to move a crowd in a way that most seculars know little of. And he’s old enough to possibly have that in his history, so I wouldn’t doubt it.
Having to catch the bus, I had to skip out, but not before getting my 27 bucks worth for the admission. ‘Twas a great show, and I rediscovered my love for Clutch while also planting the seeds of a great relationship with COC, who I probably should have listened to a long time ago. Time to take a dip in the swamps of the South before the inevitable race war.