The evil that men do

I’m known as a fan of doom metal, that wonderful styling birthed first by Black Sabbath, now being preached from stages all over the world. There has been a rise in bands performing this wonderfully dismal music over the past few years, seemingly coinciding with Sabbath’s increasing recognition as modern metal’s true father. (Could you imagine Ozzy in a Darth Vader mask, saying to Metallica,”Lars…I am your father”?) Many of these bands lean more to the fantasy side of the lyrical world, drawing from the world of Dungeons and Dragons. I personally love this style. It’s very reminiscent of the late Ronnie James Dio and that’s always a good thing.

However, there are those bands that dip into the darker side of life. Lyrics that are rooted in real evil. No pretend wizards for these bands. No, these songwriters look to the demons that live among us, those wicked individuals that sow fear in otherwise blissful communities. Of these, my favorite has to be The Church of Misery.

I found these guys by accident, while perusing digital albums that were on sale on Amazon’s music site. There, among so many forgotten Norwegian Death Metal bands, was TCOM’s THY KINGDOM SCUM. I gave it a sample listen, decided I liked enough to spend four dollars for it and found myself exposed to some truly terrifying songcraft.

THY KINGDOM SCUM is an homage to some of the worst murderers in modern history, basically taking recordings of their own words and fitting them into musical backgrounds, enhancing their nightmarish existence. This isn’t music for everyone. I only play this particular album on sunny days. It’s that darn good at raising the fright factor.

Musically, it’s fantastic modern doom stylings, straight ought of Japan (of all places). As a long time metal fan (thirty+ years), I often forget about Japan’s love of metal. TCOM reminds me they really do know how to improve on older formulas. Couple it with crisp production and you have yourself an amazingly brutal doom metal band.

As the album winds down, I open the curtains to remind myself the world is still there and the boogie men aren’t lining up in my driveway to brutalize my soul. But, if I ever forget about the reality of horror that some men are willing to inflict on others, I need no more than to give THY KINGDOM SCUM a listen.

Pleasant dreams…

Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain

Red Fang’s John Sherman manipulates the crowd through his thundering rhythms. John’s drums had enough force to level crowds. I am certain people were only standing because they were packed in to the club so tightly.

Post Concert Report: Red Fang

Living in metro-Atlanta has blessed me with the availability to see concerts frequently (even if my job prevents me from going to all the shows I would like). Maybe I have gotten spoiled in my old age. Maybe I am truly becoming the creepy old guy at the heavy metal show my friend Jay ribs me about becoming. Anyway I try to rationalize it, last night was not the best show.

 I arrived later than I usually arrive for a show a the Masquerade, forcing me to pay $5 for gated parking, instead of getting the free parking on the street. I found Hell (the basement club inside The Masquerade) packed, which is cool, but makes it hot as heck. I snagged an ice cold Diet Coke (I quit drinking 23 years ago) and made the rounds, checking the merch tables and trying to score a spot. No barstools to be had, the pit was full and I headed for the sound booth, to lean against a post. It was getting hotter as more bodies packed in and I was desperate for the first band to start the show.

 American Sharks hit the stage a little later than I had hoped. The sound guy seemed to have not realized there was a complete absence of midrange from the mix and the sound was very clipped. Couple bad sound with music that literally did nothing for me (for the record, I’m not called That Nerdy Metal Guy for nothing; I am a metalhead through and through), I headed outside to read Creative Loafing, play Words with Friends and drink my Diet Coke. Apparently, I was not alone. Hell holds around 200+ souls; about 50 were outside smoking, with another 25 hanging in Purgatory (another club in the building). 

 AS ended there set and the crowd re-entered Hell, me following the flow. I was suddenly amazed with realization there were A LOT of women at this show. Red Fang is not top 40, not glamorous metal, not anything I would imagine most women enjoying. I looked around counted at least 30 very pretty young women wearing heels and little black dresses. I’m still baffled.

 After the disastrous initial opener, I was eager for the next band to catch a fire and pump me up. I was let down, completely. Big Business reminded me of The Deftones and The Chariot, though more melodic with better song structures. There was a lot of extraneous noise and my ass headed back outside, along with a full HALF of the patrons. 

 I leaned against the wall, as my bench was overrun with smokers, and contemplated my options. As I was debating whether or not I really wanted to stay, a skinny long-haired guy in a wife beater walked up to me. “Do you like Pantera?”, he asked. “They’re ok, but I really like Down”, I responded. The conversation took off. We discussed his musical career, both of our day jobs, his band was there and they joined in, discussing favorite bands, albums, weather and anything else. It made the night worth staying to hang out.

 Big Business ended and we meandered back inside. Red Fang very quickly set up and hit the stage with a vengeance, as if they realized they had to rescue the night single-handedly. They opened their set with ferocity I have not seen since Maylene last played Atlanta. They opened with “Malverde”, setting the pace for the night, aurally assaulting the crowd with a sonic sledgehammer that laid nay-sayers to waste. For the next 45 minutes they brutalized my mind and put a huge smile on my face. 

 Being an adult (and a responsible one at that) comes with a price. I looked at my watch and realized that if I was to be able to make ti work on time in the morning, it was time to head home. I hit the merch table, snagged a Red Fang shirt and headed home.

 I rode home in silence, my ears ringing. The night ended on a high note and I learned a lesson about how lucky I am. For the past few years I have seen some amazing bands open for headliners. Last night was the first time I had both bands totally suck. 

 Wednesday I get to see Crobot and Scorpion Child. I’ll report more afterwards.