Review: Blackest of the Blech

If you asked someone where to find an evening of demonic metal and they told you it was sandwiched between a Toys ‘R’ Us and a Home Depot, you would probably stab them with a crucifix. Your violent act wouldn’t make the answer any less true, because that’s exactly where the ultra trendy and super shiny Myth Nightclub – the venue that hosted the Blackest of the Black show – is located.

The show started out strong with Skeletonwitch. Amidst the clouds of fog, they spewed out their gritty thrash. Unfortunately, they only played for about twenty minutes. Not nearly enough time.

Winds of Plague took the stage next, playing some bizarre jock hybrid of death metal and hardcore. I focused on the keyboard player, a tattooed chick who kept making sexy porno faces while playing her inaudible part of the music. This is an interesting new trend in metal. Bands enlist babes to come on stage and play one or two buried notes on the keys. The testosterone fueled teenagers fall in love and rush right over to buy the CD so they can stare at pictures of their new fantasy girl. Metal marketing rules!

A one-two punch of crap followed. Moonspell proved just how boring death metal can be. Dimmu Borgir’s watered down black metal seemed perfect for people too pansy to listen to Mayhem but too tough to get down to Cradle of Filth.

After a long wait, Danzig took the stage. As he ripped into “Skin Carver,” the monitors squealed in pain, unable to handle the power.

Danzig is tops in my book. I’m not sure what I would have done if I wasn’t able to put my headphones on and bury myself in “Hybrid Moments,” “Tired of Being Alive” and other classics during my high school years. Many days I walked home through the snow, blasting Legacy of Brutality and just forgetting about all the shit that took place in the halls of North High, just forgetting about how I was the shittiest swimmer on the swim team no matter how hard I worked, just forgetting all the crap the other kids said to me.

His music is permanently burned into my brain, playing whenever I need to feel good, whenever shit gets rough.

I’ll always go to his shows when he’s nearby. I’ll buy every piece of music he puts out. Still, I’m critical. I know he’s not perfect, and this show was a good example.

After inexplicably starting off the set commemorating the 20^th anniversary of his first solo album with the weakest song from his newest album, he backtracked to the starting point. Unfortunately, his focus wasn’t on “Twist of Cain” and “I Am Demon.” It was on making pissed off gestures at the sound guy.

Granted, the occasional hissing and cracking was annoying, but not nearly as annoying as watching a singer leave the stage and sit down at the soundboard instead of doing what he’s supposed to be doing. Between that and the two dudes in the front row slapping each other’s biceps, I started to wonder what I had sat through so many crappy bands for.

Danzig answered by playing through two rarely played tunes from his second album, “Devil’s Plaything” and “Tired of Being Alive.” I sang along to every word.

He moved forward in the Danzig chronology to tracks off his third album. Kneeling down, he smiled and said, “You can sing along,” encouraging everyone to join him on “How the Gods Kill.” His voice sounded perfect and powerful, leading the crowd through the song, reminding everyone what makes his music so special.

After “Brand New God” from Danzig 4, things really started to unravel. He became more focused on the poor sound, leaving me to become focused on how poorly the rest of the band was playing.

Danzig has a tendency to change bands like he changes clothes. This lineup, although it included veterans Tommy Victor from Prong and Steve Zing from Samhain, sounded particularly haphazard. They didn’t sound like they had spent much time practicing. They didn’t have the tightness necessary to ensure that each song would be delivered with the power it deserved. The whole mess bordered on sloppy, with the only piece holding it together – Danzig – spending more time yelling at the sound guy than keeping the music in order.

When it comes down to it, I don’t give a shit if the monitors suck. I can ignore the cracks and the hisses if a band just plays through it.

What I can’t ignore is Danzig pausing between songs to rant about the problem:

“These monitors suck, but I’m going to sing through it even if it kills my voice. I’m not even singing, I’m just yelling up here. I know it sounds bad, but you can thank that guy.” Danzig pointed to the sound guy. “Stand up and take a bow, asshole. What are you looking so angry about? I’m the one up here with my dick hanging out!”

What I can’t ignore is Danzig obviously cutting his set short, breezing over the later period songs and skipping the amazing “Black Angel, White Angel” and then playing a one song encore.

What I can’t ignore is getting psyched to see one of my favorite bands of all time and leaving wondering why I bothered.

(The Blackest of the Black fest took place at the Myth in Maplewood, Minnesota on 10/22/08)