After interviewing Wayne from Hatebreed, including a special
guest who dropped in, one of the crew members from Devildriver, Aaron, who
popped in to grab a makeshift arts and crafts project, Devil You Know opened
the show in St. Petersburg, FL. From
California, they brought the growling hard hits, setting the stage for the
show.
Elbowing past security and photographers in the tight
barricade, shooting the first three songs, squeezing through the ever-growing
crowd is like being birthed again, sliming past bodies. The lead singer says that Florida is the
first place of Death Metal. “A sea full
of angry white people,” smirked the dark-skinned lead singer.
He said after hanging out with his dog, he missed this and
came back. He belts out screams, and the
drums paired like an angry march. “This
is the way we die!”
The guitarist whips his hair violently. The supporting singer offers contrast to the
vocal range. Low bass tones hit deep in
the chest.
The crowd responds with angry glee. “Want more?”
He eggs on the crowd.
“You’re guna hava a good night,” he said, knowing
Devildriver and Hatebreed will make them erupt even more than the excitement
explodes with the first act of Devil You Know.
The lead singer, Howard Jones, was formerly with Killswitch
Engaged. Devil You Know has worked with
producer Logan Mader, formerly of Machine Head and Soulfly, though I often
lovingly remember him playing with the former lead singer of Ugly Kid Joe, Whit
Crane, in a band called Medication. Be
sure to check out The Beauty of Destruction and They Bleed Red by Devil You
Know.
From Coal Chamber to Devildriver, Dez knows how to control a
crowd, manipulating them like clay, making them bend to his will. Like a puppet master, he makes them dance and
collide. The supporting musicians are
not newbies, not millennials, but seasoned hardcore, able to belt out beats
with high intensity; even though some may be new additions to the band, the
sound is tight.
There are so many familiar hits. People scream out for their favorites in
between songs. Dez comments that the
crowd is wild, “turning a Monday into a Friday pretty quick.”
The beat slows slightly, the closest to a ballad he can get,
but still has a beastly intensity like an animal slowly stalking its prey, then
it pounces, drums mimicking a high speed chase.
Guitar and bass growing that high speed fear, like being chased for your
life, and you can’t help but feel your heart beat faster. You want to move, as you don’t want to be the
prey, but the predator, feeling that adrenaline pumping.
Release it in the mosh pit, and slam into people as if you
are fighting for your life or out to kill.
The mood lightens with a light and almost ethereal entry into the next
song, but then it grows into an intense battle once again. Heads band and bodies move as people scream
in support.
Dez has an LED mic that lights up in the darkened room. Brian Sanderson of Vilest Breed said he lost
35 pounds by putting on Devildriver at jamming at the gym. It’s great adrenaline pumping music.
I chatted with the former Midwest Kings member, who now
plays with Dez in Devildriver. In the
lobby, the 33-year-old was friendly and approachable, welcoming fans. He and the drummer chitchatted with anyone
who was brave enough to walk up and say hello; they were far from having a Rockstar
ego.
Upstairs in the balcony, I spoke with a fan who was more
than eager to see Hatebreed. He said he
had seen them when they first came out and was still a hardcore fan. When the band came out, Hatebreed did a tribute
to Lemmy of Motorhead, who had passed.
Hatebreed hits like a tidal wave, and there’s no escaping
the audience surge. It washes over you
and sucks you in like a violent undertow.
Like a wave in the ocean, you move with the audience. Wet bodies slither like an electric eel,
forward and back, side to side; where the audience goes, you go, as it is so
packed, you can’t fight against the movement of the whole.
Jam packed, a school of bodies swim as one. Furious beats roll in, continuously like ocean
waves eroding. It rubs up against
you. Your head knocks like a buoy in a
storm.
Hair flies around like tentacles, defying gravity, then
clinging with wetness. People shout
along with Hatebreed, venting frustrations with some moshing. Circle pit turns into more of a traditional mosh
with knees and elbows; they’re not into running in a circle so much as slamming
into each other full speed, crashing like waves.
Heads knock rhythmically.
Jamie says people were giving him hell for not coming to Florida, but he
said he’s glad he made it here on this leg of the tour. “This will end in blood;” he growls as if
possessed by a demon showing his face for Halloween or the Day of the Dead.
The crowd sings along, a sea of eager octopi, happy to try
to wrap their tentacles around the band, adhering their suckers, not wanting
the show to end. “I was born to bleed…” The crowd is more than willing to pound out
some bleeding bodies.
Hatebreed incites the violence. Jamie says, “everyone knows what a bangover
is. And it’s not when you’ve been
banging someone all night, but when you’ve been banging your head all night.” He names off albums and goes with the crowd
response to see what song to play next; they erupt for Perseverance, and he
plays the title track.
They go wild, dancing around in slam fashion. They are willing to lose their voices
screaming and want to leave bleeding with bragging rights from being in the
mosh pit. Release that anger
constructively in the mosh pit, so you can leave too exhausted to go off on
anyone at home.
