Figured I'd write a blog while eating my soy-based kibble and slowly coming to after a very late night.
Got home at 3:30am from a great show in San Antonio at the Rock Bottom Bar: Hexlust, HOD, Militia, and Sad Wings. It was a very old school night in many ways.
The presence of early 80s thrashers
Militia brought a lot of the metal hermits out of their holes. A lot of folks attending were old school: over 30 (if not over 35). Before the show, we had a good time reminiscing about who was a fixture from what club back in the day, someone's original and very antique S.A. Slayer shirt, and how Jason McMaster (told by the man himself) came to own a very exquisite pair of leather pants. Good times. A preview to what an average afternoon will be like in the Metal Rest Home I'm going to found.
I missed Hexlust, the opening band, but entered into Rock Bottom's steamy, smoky confines to watch
HOD. HOD bring an old school type of speedy blackened thrash: think Sodom crossed with Morbid Angel crossed with Absu. Blistering tunes plus spikes and leather and a whole lotta hair. Not a balding one in the bunch. Have you noticed how novel it is to find a metal band where EVERYBODY has a full head of hair these days? HOD is a perfect hair-storm. When they all start windmilling, I feel like it's 1987 again, and I windmill right along.
Militia further enhanced the old school feel: great thrashy riffs and catchy, fist pumping tunes. The brush-cut sporting singer delivered screechy, King Diamond-esque vocals that really brought me back to the old days. The guitarist even threw in a fretboard-shredding solo while technical difficulties were handled. Around me, people milled, dressed in jean jacket vests covered in patches and studs, white hi-top sneakers that haven't been seen in a shoe store in at least 15 years. Old school is making a comeback, thrash is more popular again.
Sad Wings finished the night by bringing a very adept version of Judas Priest, circa
"Unleashed in the East." McMaster makes a convincing Halford leatherman, complete with sunglasses and bullwhip and a good sense of humor. A common theme at Sad Wings shows is everyone in the crowd starts to smile. The show brings us back to the days before we had jobs, kids, cares. To the days when old school was just daily life: we put on our white Cons, shrugged into that filthy Levi's patch jacket and headed out to the local club to catch that awesome new band on the scene - who are they? Oh yeah, Dark Angel...
One thing I've noticed that really makes me glad old school is cool school again is the pit attitude. Some of you will remember an entry from March 08 titled "Metal is Pain" which I wrote after having had the shit beaten out of me in an effort to maintain front-row placement at a Goatwhore show. I had to beat a guy off me who attempted to forcibly remove me from my spot between the monitors, and a bruise I obtained in the melee lasted until mid-April. Interestingly enough, that was the last pit-based beatdown I endured this year. Something seems to be changing; pits seem friendlier, more considerate. People are picking other people up. Guys who make like Bruce Lee are either avoided or kicked to the ground then ousted from the pit. The beefy, shirtless, sweaty motherfucker who in previous years would have knocked me on my ass notices me during his stomping and bumps me only a little. At a Soilent show this summer I was concerned the 250lb bandanna-ed bro to my left would erupt into a frenzy of Ong Bak Muay Thai moves during the breakdown in "Antioxidant" but instead, he chose to grab me in a bear hug and beg me to witness the glory that is Scott Crochet on bass. It was funny, it was harmless. I can handle bromance. Bromance doesn't threaten to put me in the hospital with another broken hip. Bromance might be sweaty and a little blockheaded, but it's better than getting an elbow in the teeth.
So... hip hip hooray for old school: music, clothes, attitude. Keep it up, everybody. Let's get back to the days when we treated each other like family and not like enemies who need to be brutally murdered. Old school for the new era. Sometimes it's not so bad when history repeats itself.
