The first band Inter Arma is from VA and is like Emily
Dickenson poetry put to metal. Instead
of the reminiscent “Because I Could Not Stop For Death,” they speak of riding
slowly to their graves. They exploded
right off the bat, then slow it down to almost a Cathedral style epic song of
going to the grave, a melodic groove that has parts that are purely instrumental,
setting the slow march to awaiting death.
The lead singer eventually creeps in with a foreboding deep
voice, as if the grim reaper is speaking.
Patchouli smoke fills the air as if an epic mist or fog in a graveyard. While the rest of the band slows to a melodic
crawl, the drummer, with no shirt and faded red shorts, pounds on steadily for
the death march.
When the pack picks up, he explodes on the drums, and the
dueling guitars and bass follows suit. The
lead singer jumps in, growling, letting the spirits fill him. The deep growls from beyond the grave meshes
well with the massacre of music, as intense as the dropping of the guillotine,
music splattering on you like blood from the severed neck: musical
decapitation.
When they finish, they calmly exit, as if they did not just
blow everyone’s mind, tiptoeing off stage as if it wasn’t them who just took
the crowd on the epic journey through sound and musically inspired emotion, a
trip to beyond the grave and back. When
the lights turn on and the house metal selection comes on, the drummer can be
seen air drumming to the beats, proving he is a true music fan.
In fitting contrast, there is a guy in the crowd wearing a
Whinnie the Pooh outfit onesie, who must be sweating… He makes his way to the front for DeafHeaven,
along with a mass of youth. When the
mosh pit erupts, some look startled, with big eyes like WTH is going on, and
what are all these crazy people doing, especially the small guys in skinny
jeans, uh-oh…
Whinnie the Pooh makes his way on stage to dive off into the
crowd for the song Sunbather. There’s so
much dense fog rolling out from under the stage that it creates this cloudy
effect like heaven. There’s a lot of
guitar playing that is higher up the fret, only adding to the ethereal effect
of the band.
The lead singer says it’s incredible to be playing with a
band that they’ve looked up to for so long.
He is great at slapping hands with the eager fans. One guy nearly creams his jeans, exclaiming, “he
touched me!”
The girl next to him had her hand slapped, too, and she also
looked as if she was going to cry from an orgasm. It’s almost comical to see these young kids
freaking out, because in their eyes, these guys are bigger than Justin Beiber,
or girls in the 80’s screaming for New Kids On The Block. Their music was great though, you’ll give
DeafHeaven that.
The fog made it hard to see who anyone on stage was, but it
did add to an awesome effect. It’s like
a generation after the Carcass band; the lead singer sported leather dress
shoes, paired with jeans ripped below his ass cheek. The one guitar player could’ve been a
stand-in for the guy turned into fishboy in that Rob Zombie film.
They were good enough that you would go purchase their
album, so worthy of checking out if you’ve not heard them before for sure. They end with Roads to Judah’s “Unrequited.”
Carcass guys set up the stage with a medical tools backdrop
and positioned LED screens. The same
medical tool backdrop drapes beneath the drums and wraps around boxes, adding
to the slice and dice effect. A lot of
youth filters out, as the older fans claim the front of the stage, each looking
a little bewildered, like they didn’t expect to see a bunch of kids rocking out
before a band like Carcass.
Feet are sticking to the ground, commanding you to stay in
the front row. Each time you pick up a
hoof, you worry your shoes will get torn apart.
It’s like superglue on shoes.
Carcass commands the stage, bringing the heaviest riffs by
far. The mosh pit erupts like a volcano,
asking over the crowd. People hit around
as if abruptly struck by a car of drunk drivers.
The make people chant along, egging them on. Hair flies every which way, and the two
guitarists battle for domination in between fits of angry screams. The LED display even encompasses the drum
kit, a really cool effect. Bloody body
parts, even a mangled, bloody penis, rotates around the LED synched displays.
Hearing the proper British accent is such a contrast to the guttural
belting when they sing, but they command the audience like a king. Some of the young blood went home to their
moms, but a few brave ones stayed to get schooled on how these British cats
rule. There’s a bleach smell in the air,
like someone has been sterilizing medical equipment.
Whinnie the Pooh must’ve been ripped apart, and maybe that’s
his innards they’re flashing on stage, a take no prisoners show, regardless of
age. Here in Florida, lots of people
sport their Death shirts, and the lead singer recalls coming to Florida in
Miami to play with Death, calling it the “most epic tour ever.” Bloody surgeries are shown on the stage,
adding to how much these guys rage.
The real troopers stomp around, pounding fists and knocking
their heads. They show the young bloods
what a real mosh pit is all about. It’s
not running in a circle, but hard, heavy hits, like people having fits.
One guy marches by wearing a leather studded kilt. Girls sport fishnets, even on their sleeves
under their concert shirts. The fad of
skinny jeans replaced with cargo shorts, many sporting camo for Veteran’s
Day.
Military is definitely a group that doesn’t play, able to
slaughter as much as the band that shreds on stage. Like soldiers, these guys don’t take a break,
stomping on until everyone in the crowd feels the ache. They don’t pause for a ballad, just hitting
hard again and again like a fly over dropping bombs, leaving a path of
destruction and the telltale Carcass.
