Monster Bash

Once more, I must apologize for my hiatus from writing, though in my defense, this particular digression was fueled by neither drugs nor laziness. Instead, I got my ass kicked in a mosh pit, and have been in recovery ever since. I'm mostly intact, sans a few teeth and higher brain functions, but otherwise alive and well. Let's take a flashback to that infamous night, the legendary Monster Bash of Warehouse 21.

The Advocates were mass-appealing funky rock in the vein of Rage Against The Machine. They played with enough charisma and talent to make most local rock bands envious, a feat even more impressive when you consider this was their first live show. On the other hand, being unknown, they didn't have a large audience, yet those who were present will probably become loyal fans.

    Next on the bill were local legends Grinkai, infamous Death Metallers who boast both brutality and musicianship. Although their music is of an abrasive, barn-burning variety, the distorted riffs hint toward some kind of catchy melody. The band has gained notoriety in the local scene for their unique brand of marketable psychosis. There's no one else like them, for better or for worse.And as usual, I loved every second of it.

    HN-88 claims to be kid-friendly, but they're really Blink 182 in disguise. Yet it is a thin veil, and I have come to expect innuendos, graphic violence, and other teenage shenanigans I know and love from 90's Pop-Punk. So they're not kid-friendly so much as a magnet for rebellious teenage girls, or burnt out Metalheads filling the void with guilty pleasures (such as myself).  It was like Vans Warped Tour all over again.

     Finally, Savage Wizdom took the stage. If you don't know who they are, either read more of my shit, move to Santa Fe, or download all their songs. It's worth it, trust me. It was during this last set that the pits got even more rowdy. I'm not entirely sure what happened, but I'm pretty sure people got knocked out cold and had to be rescued by their friends. On my end of the deal, I got a bloody nose, a few bruises, and though I can technically eat solid stuff, it hurts like hell. Guess I'll just have to consume liquids... *glug glug glug*

So, ultimately, there was Funk, Death Metal, Pop-Punk, and traditional Heavy Metal all in one night, not to mention hot chicks, booze, and grievous injuries. Hell yeah, can't wait 'til next year! 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.

Denim and Leather: Headbanger Style

   Metal was the unloved bastard-child of the hippie generation. We inherited the drugs and long-haired rebellion. Hell, we even kept the unhealthy obsession with music. It's the music itself we changed. Bands like Led Zeppelin bridged the abyss, hence the elements of Bohemia in the Metalhead wardrobe. The most obvious connection is the long hair, which was shocking, offensive, even freakish to society until the late 6o's. Other examples include the John Lennon glasses worn by Ozzie Osbourne, the peace signs and love beads of Enuff Z'nuff, and the psychedelic prints of virtually all Glam-Rock bands. The only constant, with few exceptions, was the outrageous hair. Like the mohawks and liberty-spikes of Punk Rock, the tresses of the Metal masses symbolize deliberate rebelllion. It asserts individuality in a world full of crewcuts and neckties. Songs like Quiet Riot's Metal Health even turned this feature into an asset. Now long hair was ideal for the new dance-style... Headbanging.

     Never try to bang your head in heels. The shoes of a Metalhead are generally more practical than fashionable. The platform monstrosities worn by KISS would be useless in a mosh pit. Hence the frequent use of combat boots and sneakers. Sebastian Bach, the lead singer of Skid Row, even has a pair of converse tattooed on his arm. Illegal situations were romanticised, further reinforcing the desire for functional footwar.Solid grip and tough material would make for a succesful getaway when evading cops.

     Another example of law-repellent fashion was the innovation of spikes. Metalheads attending riotous concerts wore spiked collars to  prevent chokeholds and headlocks. On the other hand, studs and spikes are of twofold origin. Bands like Judas Priest donned bondage gear as a testament to the sexuality of the genre. Therefore, the studs embody the paradox of violence and eroticism. In the case of S&M apparel, it is not a paradox so much as a blending of sex and violence. Then again, paradox defines the genre. Blues and classical, glamour and death, anger and hope. In the end, it doesn't matter what we wear. It will become bloodstained one way or another.

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.