Blog — Page 272 of 277

Read Midwest Hell Fest Wrapup-Day 1 here.

Despite intermittent sleep, I wake up feeling fairly well rested.  If memory serves correctly, I’m somewhere deep within the confines of enemy territory—Wisconsin.  Sports rivalries aside, I’m happy to be here.  For one, there’s a punk festival happening a couple blocks away, and secondly, there is cold pizza and bread sticks for breakfast within arm’s reach.  Memory of how the food got here and why it's for the most part untouched is somewhat foggy.  I snack while watching two movies on Showtime—the Ice Cube and Bow Wow classic, Lottery Ticket and the second installment of the Scooby Doo franchise.  After spending an inordinate amount of time wondering whatever happened to Freddy Prince Jr. I decide to drag myself from bed.  I set about to accomplish the first mission of the day—preserving the rest of the pizza and breadsticks.  Seeing as how there is no fridge in this room, my initial thought is that this could prove to be difficult.  If there was a microwave I wouldn’t care about leaving it out because I could just cook the crap out of it when I was hungry.  Thankfully it's cold as balls in Wisconsin.  My brilliant plan is to set it all in an open window, thus keeping the likelihood of dysentery at bay.  Because, there is like, no way I am not eating all of this pizza and breadsticks by the time I leave here.  Problem solved, I head out for the second day of Midwest Hell Fest.

Hellcrusher

I arrive at Tanner’s around 3pm to find that I have already missed a couple bands.  Typical.  The crowd is sparse but the band on stage has a captive audience.  Hellcrusher is standard d-beat with gruff vocals.  It’s a perfect way to start the day.  It appears the drummer from Warton is one of the guitar players. The other one is from Pyroklast.  I’m starting to sense a theme here.  However, these guys are far better than either of those bands.  And even though the singer resembles a patch-punk version of the kid from Gummo, he has a great voice for this.  Sounds kind of like Warcollapse or Seitan.

I run into Aaron Gallows again and we decide now is as good a time as any to get a beer.  Somehow the price has gone up fifty cents since last night but is still priced reasonably enough that it warrants purchasing a whole pitcher rather than singles.

Krang

It’s unclear to me if Chicago,IL's Krang have a new singer or are down to just one since the last time I’ve seen them.  Either way, they are missing the female voice they used to have.  At the start of the set the current guy spews something incomprehensible about “ancient religions,” then pulls a lighter out of his pocket and proceeds to put the flame to a bible.  Aaron and I look at each other with equal parts disbelief and enthusiasm—we can’t help but laugh at the sheer stupidity.  Not that we are at all offended by the burning of a bible (no doubt stolen from the hotel) but duh, we are indoors. Have we not learned anything from the Great White-Rhode Island disaster?  We immediately map out routes to the nearest exits…just in case.  Seriously though, burning ANY book is a sign of ignorance.  Instead of making an actual statement about the expiration dates of old-world religions, this guy’s act of burning The Bible exposes him as a juvenile idiot, thus making it hard to take anything he says seriously.  I have to admit; aside from the multitude of annoying things guy is doing (wearing poorly applied eye makeup, dancing around in his underwear, putting our lives in danger, etc.), Krang plays a highly enslaving style of black metal-infected crust—similar to that of Martyrdod.  They call their old singer Hannah (now of Securicor, I believe) to the stage to sing one.  When she’s done, the bass player says “Please come back Hannah.  We reeeally miss you.”  I have a feeling he reeeally means it.

Cognitive Dissonance

Cog Dis, as they are affectionately referred to back home in Minneapolis, are raging as usual.  The song intros are laughable but not in an off-putting way.  For example, “This one is about how we are all going to die for our actions.”  Or, “I hate all Christians.  Fuck them!” And my personal favorite, “This one is dedicated to all those people that drop out of this shit (punk).  That shit is fucked!”  Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves amidst the metal-thrash-punk chaos provided by this trio of crusty gents.  Ditch the corny song intros, and Cog Dis has the potential to be one of the more popular acts of this scene.  

Streetwalker

Finally, there is a female presence at this fest.  When Streetwalker hit the stage, I see two girls look at each other and say, in unison, “Fuck yeah!”  Then plow, arm in arm, into the pit.  This is blackout grind with a dual female-male vocal attack—reminiscent of fellow Seattalites, Skarp.  I’m quite impressed.

Oil Tanker

These guys are from Hartford, CT.  It’s more Discharge/Amebix-style hardcore punk.  Great stuff and I’d love to stick around but there are still six more bands to play before this thing is over.  Unfortunately, you have to take a break at some point.  I feel bad doing it now, but cold pizza-n-breadsticks and warm beer await my arrival back at the room.

Also, Harold and Kumar are on Comedy Central trying to escape Guantanamo Bay.

In the hallway of the hotel, I meet an extremely intoxicated gentleman from Iowa who is having a hard time finding the ice machine.  He must be having a hard time finding his clothes as well because he’s only wearing a pair of tighty-whiteys.

S.F.N.

I walk back into Tanner’s as one of the three clean-cut gentlemen onstage announce, “Here’s another hardcore song about stuff that pisses us off.”  SFN play a tumultuous hybrid that is equal parts powerviolence, tech metal and tortured-guy doom-n-gloom hardcore.  Think Spazz vs. Dillinger Escape Plan vs. His Hero Is Gone in a three-way dance for the title.  I’m envisioning the crowd wanting to hate these guys because of their short hair and normie clothes and that in-turn makes me like them even more.  “Here’s another fast one.”  Perfect.  We’ve gone five bands now that didn’t include a member of Wartorn.  That’s got to be some sort of record for this fest.

The Parish

And the streak comes to an end.  Ryan, the guitar player from Wartorn also wields his axe for The Parish.  This is stoner doom/death metal with songs up around the seven minute mark and hair down around the just-above-the-ass mark.  I’ll gladly put my Devil horns in the air.  Unfortunately there are some prog-like elements, which will prompt me to lower said Devil horns, returning them to their natural position—under armpits, arms folded across chest.  Who’s got the pot, dude?

War//Plague

Post-ambient black metal crust-core form Minneapolis.  Those of us that are not pressed up against the stage are showing the first signs of unraveling.  It’s unfortunate because these guys are stellar.  It’s only 9pm but two days of piercing assaults on the eardrums combined with heavy drinking and poor eating (and for many of us, travel) has culminated in a tidal wave of fatigue.  I’m not sure but the atmospheric landscape of “Malevolent Winds” may have actually put some people to sleep on their feet.

Dresden

Dresden is Wartron’s rhythm section and singer.  It’s literally the same band as Wartorn, just with different guys playing guitar—they are virtually indistinguishable from one another.  Yawn. 

They should have called this thing Wartorn’s Incest Fest.

Also, what’s the deal with fingerless gloves?  Seriously.

From Ashes Rise

I have been looking forward to these doom-thrash-punk heavyweights ever since they were announced for this fest, as it has been several years since I last saw them.  And despite getting off to a slow start, I am not the least bit disappointed in them.  From Ashes Rise have played a number of Scion-sponsored shows in the last year or so, resulting in a fair amount of backlash from the holier-than-thou crowd that once staunchly supported them.  Judging by a few of the snarky rumblings amongst the audience, I’d say some of those folks are in attendance this evening.  But by the time they tear into “Uniforms” everyone seems to be rollicking regardless.  Perhaps all the corporate beer they have ingested has allowed them to let down their anti-fun guard.  When From Ashes Rise finishes their set, everyone is screaming for more.       

Question

Saira Huff and co. has the honor of closing this thing down.  If I’m not mistaken, this is a one-off reunion—they haven’t played together since their last show at another first-time Midwest fest, Distortion Days in their hometown of Minneapolis.  A little rusty, but pretty much exactly how I remember them—fast and energetic.  For people that haven’t seen them before, Saira’s between-song banter may come off a tad bit abrasive at this point in the weekend.  Personally, I love it.  I can’t imagine a better way to cap off a couple days of excess than being forced to question my life choices.  Once I get home it’s going to be nothing but egg whites, almonds, broccoli and water for this guy.  I’ve seen a lot of bands in the last 48 hours and Question just might be the best one.  A perfect ending to a great festival.

Perhaps they shut the ventilation system off, because it’s at this point that I smell the faintest bit of that all too familiar odor—“crust stench.”  Finally! 

It smells like someone emptied a porta-potty inside of a high school wrestling room.  Good night.      

After losing a year of my life behind the wheel, I finally arrive at my destination: Kimberly, Wisconsin. Upon walking into the hotel—and I use this term loosely—lobby, I am happy to find a lovely old lady behind the counter chatting it up with a handful of punks.  Punks I can only assume are in town for the same reason I am—the first annual Midwest Hell Fest.  She tells me several groups of people “dressed in all black” have checked into the hotel today and asks me if I know what’s going on.  I don’t have the heart to tell her its true name, so after pointing out that I’m not wearing any black; I tell her it’s just a silly little concert.  After tearing up the sheets, flipping the mattress and performing other necessary beg bug checks, I run to the nearest grocery store to stock up on weekends rations—Doritos and beer, naturally.  Back at the hotel, I bump into a group of dudes dressed in all black and ask if they know what time the fest starts.  They tell me they are playing and even they don't know what time it starts.  “Typical,” someone says, and we all laugh. 

The venue is a giant adjoining room of, oddly enough, a sports bar—Tanner's Bar & Grill.  By the time I arrive, I have already missed three or four bands.   Looking at the lineup posted at the door, it appears the band list is quite a bit different than had been advertised.  “Typical.”

Choose Your Poison

My immediate reaction is to ask out loud to no one in particular, “Remind me why I drove all this way again?”  Nobody answers me.  Then I remember, “Oh yeah, it's 'cause I love this shit.”  These guys are from Appleton or Madison or somewhere in Wisconsin and share membership with Wartorn.  Cross-over thrash with a stoner edge, like DRI, Municipal Waste, Cross Examination, etc.  If I heard the singer correctly, I think he called one song “Smoke Weed, Worship Nothing.”  That totally rules, man.

I get a chance to share an economically priced pitcher of domestic light beer with Aaron Gallows—guitarist for ska-crust ragers, Diskast, and drummer with street punkers, Born For The Gallows.  In between frequent interruptions from folks coming up to say hello to him (seriously, this guy knows everyone) he shows me the leather jacket that Ben Crew (In Defence, Bring That Shit!) just gave him for his birthday.  He's just turned 21, and it shows—dude is pretty wasted and it's not even 8pm yet.

Pyroklast

More from the Wartorn family, as Bitty, the chief organizer of this event and singer for Wartorn, plays bass in Pyroklast.  Musically, it sounds like Zeke, REO Speedealer, or Bad Wizard with d-beat undertones.  Strange, I know.  Pair that with some bro-ish vocal styling, reminiscent of any number of NYHC bands and things get even weirder.  This is all just my opinion of course.  When the front man introduces a song by screaming, “Today I woke up on the wrong side of the law!” it comes off more comical than it does political.

Wartorn

It might be the multitude of beers clouding my already road-weary judgment but, for a band that I have seen enough to last a lifetime and never been too impressed with, I find Wartorn surprisingly good tonight.  Lots of energy coming off the stage and this partisan Wisconsin crowd is eager to return the favor.

There is a young man walking around with a stack of what I can only assume is his self-produced fanzine.  (I was able to catch a glimpse of the cover and it did indeed say “fanzine.”)  It looks as though he'd like people to buy these but I have yet to see him make a sale.  As a supporter of the arts and fellow 'zine-maker (HotDogDayz), I would gladly buy or trade for one of these, yet whenever I approach him, he recoils in fear.  Maybe it’s my Doritos-n-beer breath that's off-putting?

In Defence

Minneapolis hardcore pranksters, Ben Crew and co. start things off as usual with the latest version of “Call More Dudes,” a song in which several mics are passed out to people in the crowd for a giant sing-along.  “Call more dudes/call more dudes/C A L L/M O R E/D U D E S!”  It never gets old.  You’d think it would but it never does; unless, of course, you don't have a sense of humor.  There are some people here without a sense of humor.  Boo to them.  There are lots of pizza-sucks-tacos-rule shenanigans as usual.  It's refreshing to hear throw-back hardcore amidst all the the-apocalypse-is-coming crust that usually rules fests like this.  Unfortunately the mics cut out for several songs.  The bass player, Tony Talker makes a joke about playing Where's Waldo with the crowd, “If Waldo wore a black vest with patches and studs on it.”  It was worth the drive just for that joke.  Which, I will undoubtedly steal from him sometime in the near future.

Speaking of jokes; this place has an extremely good ventilation system, which, while easy on the nostrils, has in-turn ruined my opportunity to use all the “smells-like” material I was working on during the drive.

I start to sober up, which is good because there was a moment there where I was having an, ah, moment.  I take the opportunity to run back to my room (which, thankfully is within' walking distance) to catch a little bit of the Oklahoma City/Memphis playoff basketball game and eat more flavored corn chips.

Hellshock

I arrive back at Tanner's just before Portland, Oregon's reigning kings of stench-core take the stage.  Turns out it was guys from Hellshock that I shared a laugh with in the hallways of the hotel earlier.  Not that I care about fan boy moments or anything, but it does further enforce one of the aspects I love about punk rock at the DIY level—the accessibility between band and audience.  I’ve heard Hellshock on record but never seen them before this.  I figured these guys must be something special, considering the plethora of Hellshock insignias you see patched across the backs of the jean-vested folks that travel in these circles.  But seriously, I had no idea how good they would be live.  I am reminded of Sweden's Wolfbrigade, in that it's a dervish of energy, both on stage and in the pit. Hellshock absolutely destroys the place.  

Protestant

More Wisconsinites that always play these fests.  One of the guitar players, Cory, who runs Halo Of Flies Records, usually has a small but decent distro table that I sometimes buy cassettes from.  Because cassettes, like, totally rule, man.  Protestant are solid and I have no complaints.  But Hellshock is a tough act to follow.  Unfortunately I'm not the only one that feels this way.  Many people have taken this opportunity to get refills.

Question:  If it's warm enough for cargo shorts, can it also be cold enough for a leather jacket?  I ask because this particular combo seems to be the sartorial preference of many in attendance this evening.  Also, what purpose, exactly, does the sleeveless jean jacket serve?

By the way, the between-bands DJ is horrendous.

Humachine

These guys have made the journey all the way from South Central, Los Angeles, California.  “This one is in Spanish.  It's anti-war.”  Cool.  Melodic grind…I think.  Eh. Good night.

Back at my room I order way too much pizza and way too many breadsticks. And when it finally arrives, I tip way too much.  I barley touch it because I eat way too many Doritos in the interim.  Instead I pass out watching a John Wayne movie on AMC.  Throughout the night, I wake up periodically to the overwhelming smell of said pizza and breadsticks, which lay virtually untouched on the floor next to the bed.  Such is the illustrious life of a rock-n-roll journalist blogger.

After a long wait and two opening acts—the clock struck 9:30 and Fun took the stage, while the boys and girls cheered. Suddenly, the beautiful overture to “Be Calm” opens the show just as it does on the band’s album. The frontman, Nate Ruess, holds the crowd in anticipation as everyone awaits his opening lyric. The moment hits, and the fans don’t hesitate to sing-a-long. Fun finish the first song of the night and smile as the crowd continues to yell in excitement. Jack Antonoff keeps things going as he kicks off the band’s single, “Walking the Dog.” The audience bounces through the song’s chorus as Ruess demands the fans to sing louder.

Everyone manages to catch their breath for a moment after dancing vigorously to the upbeat number, “I Wanna Be the One.” It’s this moment that Ruess takes the time to thank the crowd and declare that tonight would be the night they bring a close to their debut album, Aim + Ignite, so they can begin the cycle of what will be their second record. He hints at what we can expect from the rest of the night, and then calls to Andrew Dost to start, “Light a Roman Candle with Me.” Following was an enthusiastic performance of the band’s final single, “All the Pretty Girls,” before they moved on to “Barlights.” Ruess has a seat at the end of the stage, as Fun reach the bridge of “Barlights.” He states that he wants it to be the loudest sing-a-long he’s heard. The audience begins to chant, “…and I feel alive—feel alive,” which leads into the song’s boisterous final chorus.

Fun’s touring bandmates, featuring members of Steel Train and Straylight Run, step off stage so the three can perform on their own. Antonoff takes leave of his guitar and sits down at Dost’s keys, while Dost stands with a trumpet in hand. The three then go into a a cover of “Dog Problems.” The crowd goes wild as Ruess starts off the title track of his former band, The Format’s, second and final album. The band continues on with the Fun original, “The Gambler.” Finally, fans get what they’ve been waiting for—a new song entitled, “Carry On.” It’s a stripped down number similar to “The Gambler,” but contains much more powerful vocals.

The additional members of Fun return as the band jumps into a playful cover of Queen’s, “Radio Ga-Ga.” During the end of its bridge, Ruess wails and proves just how great of a voice he has. The band ends their set with their first single, “At Least I’m Not As Sad (As I Used to Be).” Fans help to get things started with a number of “whoas.” The band finishes and walks off the stage. The audience begins to yell for more. They return for an encore and play another new song called, “We Are Young.” This new song was a much more Rock song with thunderous drums and a melodious chorus. It is sure to become a fan favorite. Fun end the night with their rambunctious album closer, “Take Your Time.” At the end of the bridge, Ruess fiddles with a fallen mic-stand. As he docks his mic—and impulsively cries, “Fuck it.”—he dashes into the crowd and dances with everyone while the rest of the band jams. Ruess finally returns to the stage and together everyone, Fun and the crowd, bring the night to an end with one final chorus before the song’s explosive outro. The band leaves once more, and the crowd is left with the memory of a wonderful performance.

Find the new song, "Carry On," below.

200 bands, seemingly as many beers, and only three nights. Where do I begin my recap? My stomach is still shrunken from not eating right, and I continue to drink water around the clock. It’s a week later and I’m mostly recovered, clean shaven, and my wrists no longer hold a dozen different wristbands. On a weekend that I felt I missed too many shows, some by choice, others by distraction, I still saw 35-40 bands.

THURSDAY

I got to town earlier than the previous two years. After a lengthy wait in the airport lobby, I split cab fare with some fellow punks and hit the streets of Gainesville. 1982 was packed as always for the pre-Fest shows, but we got word of mouth that Panthro UK United 13 was playing at Boca Fiesta. The open patio was a pleasant welcome to the Florida warmth and made for a nice, unofficial start to another Fest.

FRIDAY

When I got to the Holiday Inn, the registration line was already around the corner and to the point where locals where gawking out car windows and asking what the event was. It’s eight years in and many townspeople still haven’t realized that there’s an international punk festival in their downtown.

Once inside, the ever-expanding flea market was in full operation, as was the hotel’s makeshift bar. There was a little confusion with my press pass, but I got in the door, got my first PBR, and spent a wad of cash with the vendors. The freebies and koozies seem to increase each year and the flea market is growing to be an event in and of itself. Of course, the concurrent pool party on the roof added to the brilliance, sipping beer in 80 degree weather while mingling with other Festers is a great day in and of itself. I should also shout out National Underground, whose free vinyl boxes solved my luggage questions for the trip home. Mere hours later, the music started.

I had modest goals for Friday: to check out new bands in smaller venues. I barhopped and enjoyed myself, but nothing really stuck out too much until I hit 1982 for the back-to-back sets I’d built my evening around.

Psyched To Die
Having never seen the New Brunswick group, I was immediately reminded of the energy that an all ages venue can offer. From their first note, the crowd went crazy, with co-vocalists J Nixon and Mike Yannich hardly breathing between sweat-soaked songs. The air was so thick in the venue that the windows were fogging up and I’m surprised nobody passed out with heat stroke. Even so, the band’s energy kept everybody comfortable and got my adrenaline flowing for the night.

The Brokedowns
Right after Psyched to Die, I didn’t have time to cool off. Instead, Ben Crew (In Defence) gave a vocal welcome to this Elgin, Illinois band who gave it their all for 10 minutes before they had to take a breather and chat with the crowd. Always entertaining, they filled their set with a mixture of crowd interaction, botched audience requests, and high-energy singalong rawk. If you haven’t seen these guys yet, you’re missing out.

SATURDAY

After emptying my stomach, I refilled it with a massive and rejuvenating bowl of pho, before another 12 hour block of shows.

Dear Landlord
At Fest 6 I was surprised how many people were into Dear Landlord: a band that, at the time, had only a couple of 7”s. 2009 brought their first full length release and, with it, even more fanfare. They hit the stage in full-on Halloween getup, dressed as coneheads, and a capacity early afternoon crowd matched their enthusiasm. Add to the equation the eighty-six degree temperature outside and extremely poor ventilation, and the scene on the floor was a humid mess. I can only imagine how hot it was onstage, as the band drenched their costumes. They played song after song of group chorus singalongs, with the audience seemingly doing more vocals than the band. Leaving to a call for an encore, they quickly changed clothes and half of them returned to the stage as the Copyrights. Dear Landlord was one of the more talked about sets of the weekend and I’ve definitely been listening to <i>Dream Homes</i> more frequently since.

Tim Barry
I spent the majority of the day relaxing at Market Street Pub. They have an upper level with couches where numerous people dozed during the mix of Florida punk and Suburban Home alt-country that played throughout the day. It was a scattered, if unspectacular crowd for most of the day—until Tim Barry’s set at 10:10. The area surrounding the stage filled up and, despite hanging around the pub for hours, I could still only manage a spot along the edge of the floor area. Barry quickly set the tone with a spirited “Dog Bumped” before introducing himself and establishing the rapport with his crowd that really sets him apart from other musicians. He maintains an incredibly down to earth, relatable feeling that makes you feel like you know him as a man, not just as a guy on stage with a guitar. Plus, his decision to grow a scraggly beard really suits the tone of his music. Barry played a rousing set, including “Prosser’s Gabriel,” which tells the story of a Richmond slave rebellion. Despite his insistence that he’s “just a white dude in a camo hat on stage,” Barry had the attention of everybody in house and highlighted my Saturday night, making his forty minute set feel like twenty.

Defiance, Ohio
This year I didn’t utilize the press pass to its fullest. I’m allowed to cut lines, and the packed-all-day Common Grounds was a place where I did take advantage. Following Ninja Gun, I grabbed a slice of pizza and ran to Common Grounds for Defiance, Ohio. They are a band I’ve been intrigued about for a few years now, but never had the chance to catch live. I’m glad I made it, even if the place stunk of ten hours of drunken punks, with only barn fans to offer marginal solace from the heat. The band came out in painted theatre masks that, by set’s end, had grotesquely run over their faces as they charged through their cello and violin-tinged folk-punk. The set covered a range from all their albums, and most of their best songs, though I was disappointed that they only did a couple of their female-fronted ones. Live, they sounded similar to their records, which is always impressive for a band comprising of so many members and reinforced their appeal as regular people who make music. They were definitely having fun, with large smiles and a lot of positive energy to end the night.

SUNDAY
The thing you quickly learn about Fest is that by Sunday everybody is exhausted: eyes are hazy, people lean on pillars and sit on curbs, and the crowds merely bop where they used to jump around, and the bands complain about long set times (even when it’s only 30 minutes). Today, the Common Grounds lineup was so solid I hardly planned to move, save for periodic trips to The Porch to check on the Packer-Viking game.

Underground Railroad to Candyland
Todd Congelliere’s bands keep getting funner. Yes, I know that’s not a word. FYP was great and Toys That Kill continue to amaze, but URTC are all about good times. For your average show, employing a hypeman may be enough, but this is Fest we’re talking about. Instead of coming on stage with a regular ol’ lineup, the band came out with two additional drummers and The Emotron on his sequencer. That’s four percussionists, and three full drum sets, for those not keeping count. To call it a spirited set is an understatement. Congelliere and Jack Blast donned costumes and Blast was pogoing for the entire set, along with two-thirds of the audience. A full venue danced and smiled along with them. I’m looking forward to their next release, as the band is definitely getting more comfortable playing together.

The Arrivals
By this point everyone was low on energy: crowd, band, you name it. Even singer/guitarist Dave was holding off the booze until they’d played. I’ve seen the Arrivals play a dozen shows over the past few years and they continue to amaze with their consistency and intensity—even when most of the songs are a few years old. The band alternated between Dave and Isaac songs with a responsive crowd, and a great rendition of “Blood Hits the Ground,” before ending the set with a call that “to everybody who’s offered me a drink all day and I turned them down: I’ll be at the bar” before rushing off stage. I, however, stayed for the last two bands—two that, in my mind, were among the most anticipated of the weekend.

The Thumbs
The Thumbs disbanded earlier in the decade without much fanfare. I’d caught their name on a few house shows here and there, but never got around to seeing them. I thought they were history until the Fest 8 schedule went online and their name was there. Sick Sick Birds comprises a couple ex-members and The Fest was a perfect scenario for a one-off reunion, since Sick Sick Birds was already on the bill. While Common Grounds was only at half capacity during the late Sunday show, everybody who stayed was excited as The Thumbs played with a vigor that made the reunion feel natural. They played a solid mix from their discography, including a song off the Snuffy Smile 7”, though I would have preferred a couple more songs off <i>Make America Strong</i>. Afterwards, I saw a lot of handshakes and thank yous directed their way as Tiltwheel took the stage. It might not have been the best attendance, but those who stayed were completely into it.

I may regret what I missed over the weekend, but I did see the following plus, I’m sure, a few more who have slipped my deteriorating mind:
Arms Aloft, Jonesin’, Psyched to Die, Brokedowns, Too Many Dave’s, Altercation Comedy, The Sidekicks, Gatorface, Dead Landlord, The Copyrights, The Measure [SA], Static Radio (NJ), Ringers, PEZZ, Joe McMahon, The Takers, Tim Barry, Ninja Gun, Defiance, Ohio, Drag the River, Grabass Charlestons, The Tim Version, Sick Sick Birds, Underground Railroad to Candyland, Fleshies, This Bike Is a Pipe Bomb, The Arrivals, The Thumbs, Tiltwheel

Let me start off by saying that I love all three of these bands, and I have been looking forward to this show since I got confirmed to photograph it. I had always wanted to see what Dethklok - a made up band based around a cartoon show - sounded like live. And ever since Axe To Fall came out (even before, when I saw teasers of their new stuff up on their myspace) I've been wanting to see Converge (for the fourth or fifth time - I forget). And I’ve never seen Mastodon.

Now, I got there right as Converge took the stage and, as most people could have predicted, Kurt (the guitarist) had taken center stage and was jamming out to Plagues. Every time I’ve seen Converge, they’ve opened with Plagues, and it never fails to get a crowd riled up. Within seconds of the opening riff, there was already a circle pit in the middle of Hammerstein Ballroom, NYC. As soon as Jacob Bannon starts his signature barking, the crowd erupts, as fans chant along.

Moving on to perform pieces from their latest album, Axe To Fall, a giant screen behind them lights up with the album artwork as they play the title track, 'Dark Horse', and 'Reap What You Sow'.

Moving on, Converge goes on to churn out more crowd favorites such as 'Last Light', and 'The Broken Vow'. The stage presence is immense, as Jacob runs back and forth along the stage, Nate swings his bass like he’s the only one on stage, while Kurt scales away on his guitar. Lets not forget about Ben, who’s slamming away in a fury behind everyone else.

Needless to say, when you go to see Converge, you can expect an amazing show. As they leave the stage, I wonder how anyone could follow an act like that.

As Mastodon takes the stage, I immediately notice that the setting will be totally different. The ballroom is filled with ambient lighting and synths bounce off the walls. They come out in flashy space pants (note picture) and start playing some of their new wave metal. Its easy to just sit back with no energy and let your legions of fans do all the hyping.

..And that’s pretty much what they do. I enjoy Mastodon’s music, but their live performance is nothing extravagant. At least, not for me. They stand around, and play their instruments. Don’t get me wrong, they play them well, but its just not... exhilarating. Its not personal with the fans. Its hard to make photos look exciting... when they’re really not. Who knows, maybe they had an off night? I’ve heard good things about Mastodon’s live performance.

After the hour and a half (or so) that was boredom during Mastodon’s set (at least for me), a giant Nathan Explosion from Metalocalypse came on the screen and a short mini scene for the popular Cartoon Network Adult Swim series came on.

After the little movie, the people known as Dethklok took the stage. Now this isn’t really a live show either. Its just to play songs from some peoples favorite cartoon series. All the microphones are distorted to give the impression of the TV show, and everything is tightly preformed. They sound good! They play everything right, but, once again, where’s the movement? Then again, it felt to me as if more people were watching the big screen playing the animation behind the performers, so maybe it did work? Maybe Dethklok was a success for those who went to see them. Didn't strike a match with me, though.

I guess I’m just a sucker for stage performance. I’m a sucker for bands that move around, bands that engage with the fans, and I’d rather have that than a fancy light show.