The Slings And Arrows Of Outrageous Fortune

 Last night was a pretty epic failure, even for me. I had organized (and I use the term in the loosest possible sense here) a Metal show at Warehouse 21,but approximately five people came. I should know by now that writing, and not  organization, is my forte. I mean, I’ve been cranking out mean prose from amidst my own squalor for years. I’m pretty sure that the cops came in at some point last night, but that might just be wishful thinking. At any rate, the stars themselves had aligned against me, and yet I still managed to see four ridiculously talented bands do their thing on stage. So here are the awesome, if somewhat clusterfucked, results of my lack of responsibility.

First up was Wormhole, hailing from Las Cruces, NM. Southern New Mexico is generally a giant dusty Meth-Lab, infested with tweakers devoid of souls or higher brain functions. Such an environment provides a stark backdrop for some of the best Metal bands in the Southwest, and Wormhole is a testament to this fact. I’m not insulting the band for being from Las Cruces. On the contrary, I commend them for coming all the way up here to my barren tourist-city that I call a hometown to play for us. They put on one hell of a show, and they deserved a better audience than what they got.

Next was Godhunter from Tuscon, AZ. Holy mother of Metal, these dudes rule. Their musical style is beyond heavy… Quite frankly, they sound pretty fucked up. Ruthless chaos is cathartic, and Godhunter hit the freaking spot. They bring a primordial onslaught of noise that many other bands would attempt to polish. As a Metalhead, I love sensory overdrive. My lizard brain is far too primal for my own good. I am a Dionysian of the most unrefined variety, a supplicant of the decadent orgies of yore. People like me love Godhunter.

Although they were technically headlining, Skulldron played second-to-last. Unlike many other Stoner-Metal bands, everything about these dudes is saturated with a genuine Stoner mentality. Listening to them is like hearing a bong-rip translated into guitar distortion. Even the screams and growls sound suspiciously like a post-stem cough. I’d come up with some more drug-metaphors to describe them if I wasn’t too fried. At any rate, they kicked some major ass, and the best part of the whole night was probably their song about Sirens. In case you haven’t noticed, I am a sucker for Greek mythology. Not only that, but the song itself was like a flashback to NWOBHM, almost Angelwitch-esque in its nature. Fucking badass.

Last on the bill was Simfonik Plague. It’s all in the name, really. Their music is simultaneously melodic and pestilent, with sick, thrashy guitars juxtaposed against a fussilade of machine-gun drumming and harsh vocals. I remember seeing them years ago at Warehouse 21, when the venue was literally an abandoned warehouse. Of all the bands who played on that fateful day, so many moons ago, Simfonik Plague and Grinkai were the only ones I remember. And it seems I see Grinkai at least once a month (wonder if they’re werewolves?) whereas seeing Simfonik Plague was like a reunion of a long-lost love. Ah, Simfonik Plague, light of my life, fire of my Metal. My sin, my soul. It’s about fucking time.

Well, I wish more people showed up, and that I didn’t suck at life, but Alas…. It is a cruel fate I must endure. I’m still at a loss for words, but at the very least the night was one that I could look back and laugh at… Eventually.