2 Days 2 Cities Levelled

So last time, I informed all you uncultured swine of the impending Metal shows coming to the Albuqurque/ Santa Fe area. Since I am too lazy and stupid to write anything creative today, I'm just going to keep ranting and raving about these concerts. If I can make just one Metalhead as stoked as I am, then my efforts shall not be in vain. So, let's see, who is on the bill?

Whoah. That's alot of bands. I would burn candles to every god I know just to see Fields Of Elysium, but that's only one of the 12 bands. Immortal Prophecy is pretty damn good, I know I've seen them live at least once before. Portrait Of A Mastermind not only features a female vocalist who can hold her own against the boys, but she's a hottie as well.  The Eden Betrayal is Christian Metalcore, and worth seeing in concert. I've never seen Through Gore Comes Glory, but I've heard enough rumors to keep my expectations high. Eat A Helicopter is one of the bigger bands from Albuqurque, so they too have a reputation that I hope they fulfill. I don't know much more about any of the other bands, but like I said, Ten Bucks is worth it just to see Fields, so I'll see what they got. This is a Joe Angel Production, and he is a man of most refined taste, so I assume this concert will be epic as fuck. See you at W21 on the 17th. Bring ten bucks and arm yourself to the teeth.

Warehouse 21 Concert

So last time, I informed all you mongrels of the upcoming shows. If you missed this concert, that's entirely your own fault. Either way, here are the shenanigans that transpired last night.

Soul To Rest were the last-minute opening act, filling in for Burst Into Flames. I love both of these bands, so the show would have kicked ass anyway, but Soul To Rest is a local favorite and brought in a plethora of metalheads. They played monolith head-banging pieces such as Martyrdom Of The Divine and Early Morning Massacre, a pristine pre-game for the bands to come.

Next up was Echoes Of Fallen, a brutal Death-Metal band hailing from Albuqurque. Their style is a flashback to old school Death Metal. (Think about this: Morbid Angel meets Death. That's how they sound.) Although the subject matter of the lyrics is grueling, the vibes are all positive. These musicians are not only performers, but fans of Metal themselves, thus rendering gimmicks unnecessary. This attitude is radiant, and it shines through at concerts. Rarely have I seen a stage presence so energetic, even though it is devoid of novelty.

Leading into the headliner were local legends Savage Wizdom. This is old-style Power Metal at it's finest. These guys totally rock, with beefy lyrics, hooky riffs, and clean vocals bordering on operatics. The front row was packed with heshers banging heads in unison, and I kid you not when I say that most of the audience knew the lyrics by heart. Savage Wizdom put on a superb performance as usual.

The headlining band was Grinkai, bringing dirty thrashy Death Metal with a vengeance. These dudes have a funky style going on, reminiscent of Groove-Metal titans such as Pantera. The guitar riffs are catchy enough to get stuck in your head, and the vocals are ruthlessly caustic. Again, the stage presence brings in the X-Factor that recordings lack. A Grinkai concert is a spectacle to behold, and I cannot stress enough that if you missed it, I neither envy nor pity you. You deserve what you got, which is deprivation of the pinnacle of all that rocks. Serves you right, fucker.

Warehouse 21 did not dissapoint. This was the best night I've had in a long while. I'll be recovering from whiplash for a long time, but I hope to see you on March 2nd anyway. Four stars outta five.

Mosh With Love

  Mosh pits are a cathartic descent into our primal nature. The best concerts are poorly lit, super crowded, painfully loud... They set off the evolutionary red flags which get us on high alert. That means a serious adrenaline rush. The nervous energy is crucial to a wicked show. Adult Contemporary sure as hell doesn't have my heart pounding and my palms sweaty. I never attend a concert to unwind. I go to tense up. Sometimes the only way to purge yourself of anxiety is to binge on it. That is the genius of the genre. The beauty of Metal, in all its grotesqueness, is the power to turn pain into art.

In addition to the thrill aquired from merely attending such a show, it gets even better when you are caught in a mosh and live to speak of it. Biologically speaking, animals are programmed to release endorphins after eating, sleeping, or getting laid, just like we get bitchy when deprived of any of these things. Similarly, we get the same high when we encounter danger and subsequently overcome it. After all, that's what each species evolved to do. Meanwhile, if you listen to some mellow clarinet tunes, you may feel chill (at best), but not fulfilled.

Let me draw an example from Hemmingway, specifically The Old Man and the Sea. Our daily lives are just like the profane sharks who pose a challenge, though the trial is far less dignified than that of the true catch. We hate our undignified, mundane problems. Homework, career troubles, family issues... Not the kind of thing you want engraved on your tombstone. A broken femur, on the other hand, is far more worthy of respect. As such, concerts are fleeting moments of such trials, when you can actually take yourself seriously. No one cares about your tenth facebook update expounding on the woes of teenage break-ups. But we all care about your potential hospitalization. Sometimes we care enough to tone down the violence in the pit.

In all seriousness, moshes are not mindless violence. They are a Dionysian indulgence. The action may seem random, but we are all aware of each blow we suffer and reciprocate. Every action you take has an equal and opposite reaction. You can take that as a collective, communal dishing out of Karma. Or you can say it's a first-hand experience of the cruel laws of physics. Either way, I have a final remark of advice:   Mosh with love, and prepare yourselves for some serious whiplash.

Metal Day at the El Rey: A Concert Review

International Metal Day, that most (un)holy of days, fell on 11/11/11 this year. In recognition of this divinely commissioned coincidence, Albuqurque's own Historic El Rey Theater put together a badass gathering of epic proportions. These are the awesome results.

Night of Revenge is basically an ameteur Bullet For My Valentine. Their lack of experience is overshadowed by their potential. Quite talented for their age, they need only to improve their clean vocals and stage presence. Along the way, they can emerge as artists in their own right instead of an emulation of Mallcore. However, they deliver a spectacular show and proved a worthy choice to hit the ground running for the concert.

Have you ever wondered what Nu Metal would sound like if it didn't suck? Speculate no longer, comrades. Walls Within does not disappoint. Heavy as hell, they have a more Blues oriented sound than most metal artists. Thrashy strings complement the pounding drums and harsh vocals. It's a superb sound for the new generation. The ensuing mosh-pits are almost overwhelming at live shows, as are the plethora of  headbangers. Hope you're ready for some serious whip-lash.

Bear the Nightmare is a contemporary union of Metal with synthesizers. The result is something like Children of Bodom. The crowd-pleasing fusion of genres may not be radio-friendly, but it draws a great audience for live performances. Their musical style is funky and dance-able, yet intense. It's like psuedo-pop for moshers.

Ambryzette is Metal with a Post-Rock twist. The brooding melodic style is eroded by power-screams and snarls. They deliver an intense dichotomy of heaviness and ambience. Ever heard of Synesthesia, the phenomenon of senses overlapping? Having had more experience with psychedelics than I care to admit, I am all too familiar with this phenomenon. Now imagine you could hear a sunset. That's Ambryzette.

Hailing from Santa Fe, Savage Wizdom brings soaring Power Metal with a vengeance. Their nostalgiac vocal style echoes the likes of Halford and Geoff Tate, yet modernizes the early Dungeon-Metal sound to suit the tastes of modern Metalheads. Subject matter is beefy, ranging from grim reapers to dragon slayers, with nary a love ballad in sight. This is the kind of music that has the whole front row headbanging in unison. They were a great choice to lead into the headliner.

Remember how Walls Within sounded like the hypothetical non-sucky Nu Metal? Well, Blinddryve is what Nu Metal sounds like in its present state. Nonetheless, they do have a certain allure. The brutal lyrics and overwhelming sound-walls that are typical of Metal have been toned down to appeal to a larger audience. There's enough growls and distorted guitars to appease the average Metalhead, and the sweater-vest wearing masses can pretend to be rockers for a night. As such, the Metal-Day concert had ended, as T.S Eliot said, "not with a bang, but a whimper."

Machine-Eye Photography: An Image Caught in Time

Unlike most photographers, Miguel Chavez captures movement, not moments. The  atmosphere of live music is reflected in his candid shots of mid-concert mayhem. He captures the definitive examples of mosh pits, of mass hysteria, the unison in entropy that epitomizes the art of concerts. Prolonged poses are rare in his art.  Even the standstills are obviously candid, a fleeting pause between motions. His photography has been featured at galleries such as Warehouse 21, a match made in heaven as W21 moonlights as a venue at which many such concerts take place. Artistic, punk-as-fuck, and all around awesome photographs.

Visit Miguel Chavez's photography blog here...

...Or his Flickr here.

National Metal Day

     As VH1 so eloquently put it, themselves alluding to Spinal Tap, this goes one louder. 11/11/11 is National Metal Day, which by divine providence, has been granted to us on a Friday. If your local scene is as awesome as mine, then a venue/radio station/studio near you has the good grace to organize the sickest line ups on this most (un)holy of days. Return the favor; go to as many concerts as humanly possible and show some support. This is what's scratching in my patch of dirt:

On the holy day, local legends Savage Wizdom and Walls Within play alongside rising stars such as Night of Revenge, Ambryzette, and The Nightmare. The extremely talented melodic-metal band Blinddryve is headlining. The ruckus starts at 6:30 P.M, at Albuqurque's historic El Rey Theater. Sponsored by the best radio station in town, 94.1 ROCK, as well as Pyros, Music Go Round, Patron Silver and more. All ages event, $10 presales, $12 at the door. See you there.

Fast forward eight days. Yet another gem of a concert, organized by the exquisite promotion company known as Joe Angel Productions. This is even LOUDER than eleven. Local shred-gods Burn Alive, Numbers, Eve of an End, and Portrait of a Mastermind are featured. Up-and-coming artists include When Darkness Falls, Throw Temple, and Butcher The Sheep. Since the touring band is Scattered Hamlet, odds are they will headline. This will take place at El Rey Theater. Doors open at 6:30 P.M, music starts at 7:00 P.M. This all-ages event is only ten bucks. Did I mention all the kick-ass give-aways, including (but not limited to) skateboards, guitars, posters, CD packs, and even cash?! Holy mother of Metal, don't miss this.

Obelisk: Further reflections on mosh pit spirituality

     The pain of a pit is practically sexual, combining karma and libido into a Tantric event, like iron evolving into gold. The moshers are sadomasochistic; some dominate the pit with a vengeance while others submit to their pain and love every minute of it. The only true gimps are the spectators who do nothing, but stand in the perimeter and behold the moshers with mild curiosity or feigned indifference. But the Tantric vibrations are alive and kicking in the moshers, throbbing and pulsing like a bed against the wall. We jump in unison, we pump our fists in perfect sync with each other, we bang our heads as individuals and then as an entirety. Headbanging in and of itself is provocative. Anatomically speaking, thrusting the torso downward puts you in the same position as thrusting the hips up. Headbanging is the coquettish hairflip of a tease amped on acid. Headbanging is distorted flirting, distorted passion, arms awkwardly slung around each others shoulders as we move our bodies in unison, sweating and screaming all the while. We lose ourselves, we get dizzy and fall, we stagger to each other when the blaring speakers and schizophrenic lights overwhelm us. Each metalhead is a source of support for the others, a solid obelisk to withstand the barren desert that the individual can not endure alone.

   The beauty of metal, in all of its grotesqueness, is unison in entropy. While we jump and push and lunge in a bedlam state, we know what we are doing. We are fully conscious, aware of every blow we suffer and reciprocate. Although the multicolored lights can dazzle us, we can differentiate them from the shadows. We are as sentient worms, writhing and struggling in the soil which imprisons us. The psychosexual violence of the pit aims to unite us in our solitude, our self-induced isolation. We delve so deep into negativity that we absolve ourselves of it.

   A good metal concert is like being unable to take a religious fast, so you just drink straight whiskey until you vomit. If that’s your way to cleanse yourself, then just indulge in the blood orgy, knowing that you need to take a little poison in order to heal yourself. A good concert is a glorified primal scream, it is the lead singers vocals solidified throughout the entire venue. We growl when we feel threatened, shout when we’re horny, yell when we’re hurting. There is always an eternal scream, one in which we wallow until it possesses us. Under the control of this demon, we twist our hands to resemble his horns and raise them high, reaching toward the heavens that we may taint them. Somehow our militant anger is neutralized, though I doubt this is the work of angels, lest they are of the fallen variety. If stage diving has taught me anything, it’s that gravity’s a bitch. But at the same time, my fallen comrades are waiting for me below, some with devil horns, some with fists, some with open hands, ready to catch me and bring me to their world.

The Battle Of The Bands

      The Albuqurque Battle Of The Bands was promoted by Gorilla Music, hosted by the infamous Launchpad, and featured many promising musicians with the potential to go far in the industry. Gorilla, although a sleazy behemoth of a company, gives something back to the artists of whom it takes advantage. The contest featured no cash award, but instead boasted the “Opportunity” to do further collaborations with Gorilla. Despite this disappointing, self-proclaimed  prize, the Battle Of The Bands brought quality local music to a wide audience. Some audience members, such as myself, have the ability to give such bands better (and paid!) opportunities to perform. I would have never met these artists if a corporate scam didn’t organize the Battle. I owe them some begrudging, yet well-deserved, gratitude. Thanks, guys!

Glad that's over. The artists who performed at the Battle Of The Bands are as follows:

Skarva Av Glas opened up the night with some gnarly Black Metal from hell. The sexy female guitarist was the crown jewel in this otherwise mediocre band. This is a Black Metal group easily forgotten among the rest that try to offend rather than entertain. They have potential, but their performance was overall underwhelming.

Embelisk was a band bouncing with energy. Funky beats juxtaposed over a hard-rock backdrop created a cool atmosphere of chill, crowd pleasing music. Their stage presence was playful, the intent was mischievous. Embelisk was a measured, healthy dose of radio-friendly Rock.

The Elected Officials take righteous indignation, set it to the melody of playground ditties, and amplify it to high heaven. They embody hardcore, Punk-as-fuck, “Oi Oi Oi” music with a message. They hit the stage like a Molotov cocktail hits a skyscraper, conquering the venue with their wicked charisma. Rebels with a cause have never sounded so good.

Terror Race combines elements of modern music with inspiration from rock classics. The result is Metal that appeals even to people who don’t like the genre. On the other hand, true Metalheads may end up feeling slighted. They are certainly gifted with profound musical ability, yet they are trapped in a Local scene with a surplus of high-school Metal bands. With some practice, they will never again get lost in the mix.

Gnarly Slur is comprised of two musicians (A bassist and a guitarist/singer), and a synthesizer.  The style oscillates from clean vocals to death growls, always tastefully and usually seamlessly. However, as stage presence is an integral aspect of live music, the synthetic drum-beats are distracting and somewhat clumsy. Other than the lack of a proper musician on drums, Gnarly slur was an enjoyable taste of modern Metal in one of its many incarnations.

Night of Revenge is a band of high-schoolers writing about video-game zombies, hot girls, and mosh pits. They do so tactfully, with surprisingly phenomenal results. The instruments are distorted, heavy, and catchy. The vocals are usually screams or growls, with occasional clean singing. It’s great head-banging Metal in the vein of Bullet for my Valentine. The clean vocals could use some practice, but otherwise the band is extremely talented.

Parachute Picnic was fodder to please the unwashed masses. A large crowd of aforementioned unwashed masses gathered to flail to their Pop-Punk serenades, music far too sissy to warrant a proper, dignified pit. It was catchy and danceable, yet little more than formula music for mall-rats who admire cuteness instead of talent.

Severkill is a bunch of middle-aged men playing slow, bluesy, Heavy Metal their own way. The instruments sound very old school , Black Sabbath-esque, yet the vocals are modernized with growls and screams. Spooky stage presence and cool lyrics are the mercury icing on the Metal cake. It’s pretty cool to see guys their age rocking out with the best of them.

Cathartic Dissent was Hardcore Punk hailing from Santa Fe, bringing high-octane mosh music to the stage. This being their first show, they performed magnificently. They were raw enough to be Punk-as-fuck, refined enough to draw a significant audience. Cathartic Dissent is a refreshing bite of plain ol’ Punk Rock in a local scene that prides itself on gimmicks.

True Joint Featuring Relik One emulates the kind of Rap/Hip-Hop that dominates modern airwaves. They are enjoyable enough, despite the predictable “Fuck bitches/Smoke weed” type lyrics that were peppered throughout their set list. Many teenage girls expressed their high-pitched approval toward these artists, further obscuring what aesthetic value there was to be enjoyed. Not bad, they were worth seeing in live concert.

     Such was the experience of the Battle of the Bands. However, in the selfsame concert, two acts were featured who were not competing in the battle. They were “Headlining” (if it is proper to call it that, in the context of a Battle) because they have already been established as worthy artists. These bands have risen to prominence because they have proved their great talent and dedication to Metal, music, and artistic worth in general.

Defleshment is dirty, thrashy Death Metal to rival the best in the industry. Their music instigates only the rowdiest of mosh pits. Even those who don’t jump in the slam-dance have to headbang, and everyone raises their Devil-horns high. The music is contagious, and determined to bang its way into the heads of the audience. This is essentially old school rocker Metal tempered for modern taste. No-one escapes a Defleshment performance unscathed.

Rose Beneath is a streamlined, contemporary gem of Melodic Metal. Screams and growls mesh with the operatic clean vocals, echoing the likes of Killswitch Engage. The lyrics are intriguing, the breakdowns are pristine. Rose Beneath dominates the stage with style and charisma. They know how to be theatrical without being melodramatic. An immaculate conclusion to a concert such as this.

Space Trip

There are no re-entries at Launchpad. Just like a real rocket mission, once you’re in, that’s it. There is no escaping the celestial spectacle, unless you feel like being thrust into an endless vacuum of instant boredom or death, respectively. The interior is ornamented with dazzling graffiti and stickers juxtaposed on the grimy walls. The floors are sick with gum and spit, and even the ceiling looks like it’s been wounded by rowdy rockers. This is definitely a venue which is as scarred as its patrons. But once the lights fade, it’s all about the music, and even the sight of such beautiful gore takes a backseat to the audio assault.

This is the back-ground noise of stealing everything you hate and burning it alive. This is a forced catharsis, a necessary sedation. When the door closes, you are ensnared in the hot-box. Claustrophobia is a catalyst for mosh pits, some of the best I’ve ever been in. The sounds pulse on the floor and echo off the walls. The lights reflect the bloodstains on your shoes. Everything culminates and congeals into a high-octane hell-ride. The aim is to delve so deep into the darkness that you are absolved of it. A concert at Launchpad is like being unable to take a religious fast, so you just drink whiskey until you vomit. By the time the ritual is complete, the sky is dark with rare stars, and the desert night is cold. At this time, there is no cause for complaint. All that remains is panic upon realizing how far you are from home.