Yes, metalheads. AKA: headbangers, rockers, thrashers, hessians…you know, black band shirt, jeans, boot-wearing, ass-stomping, (mostly young, white, male, tatooed) fans of the RAAAAWWWWWK! I was this {} close to joining their ranks last night for Down’s concert at The Beaumont Club. My bro IM’ed me yesterday PM to say he had a spare ticket. Never one to turn down a free show (even for a band whose musical styles are far from my typical tastes) I said I’d meet him at the bar at 8PM.
8PM rolls around and the night seems nice for having my ears assaulted. Walking up to the front of the club, the line of metalheads creeps waaaay down Pennsylvania. I call my bro and he tells me he’s at the front of the line at the rear entrance. So I head down through the parking garage. Rawk and the smell of burning nugs escape from many open car windows. The line at the back is no shorter and even harder to manipulate due to close quarters. I call my bro again and tell him I’ll wait up front while he gets the tix.
And the rawkers keep pouring in. Surprisingly, they’re a mellow bunch at this stage of the game. A few drunkards singing in their best gutteral imitation of some band they love. A few titty comments directed at ladies having to walk to end of the block in order to get in line. I watch the line and listen to the metalheads and get excited thinking about how nuts it’s gonna get inside when the music starts. I like that about metalheads. They’re not afraid to move (or punch/push/kick/bite/headbutt/jump/scream) once that band begins to play. I like that a lot. I was once at a Danzig show where standing next to me on the floor of Memorial Hall was a monster of a man, Samoan I would guess. And looking at him, I would have never guessed he could move like he did. But when little, bitty Glenn Danzig came out and wailed like Elvis’s demonic counterpart, this dude plowed his way through the crowd to hop into the pit and bounced around singing every word and taking hit after hit. People just started throwing themselves into him – he was like a cushy, moving wall. They’d bounce off him, two or three at a time even. He just keep moving and rawkin’ and singing, pulling himself out for a few minutes to catch his breath…and then jumping right back into the thick of it all.
And I like that willingness to give oneself over to the music.
Then my bro rang…will-call didn’t have the tix and they were having to buy them. Did I want one? Nope. As much as I like the metalhead concert ethos, I really don’t want to pay to have a metalhead band physically damage my hearing.
I talked to my bro today. He said the show was sweet. 2 hour set, no opening act. Pure RAWK.