The state of metal

We love it loud and heavy

by Chris Kanaracus

They lack rehearsed answers to such a typical question as: "How do you classify your music?" But their reticence is refreshing. Worcester's God Stands Still are a new band, a young band, a metal band. And judging from their debut CD, Six Days, they're a band still searching for a sound. But influences are apparent -- the crystalline rhythm tones of Pantera's Dimebag Darrell, or the jagged, muscular drum patterns of hardcore. Though it's not until you are sitting inches away from drummer Shane's hole-dotted, red-headed stepchild of a drum kit, or inside -- thanks to the volume -- guitarist Chief's "Death Star" gear rack and across the room from Tor's bass that what these guys are doing really kicks in.

Shane pounds the crap out of his kit with a wide smile as Chief lurches against his quadruple Marshall stack and stops during the bass fills to adjust the band-aids covering a day-job-related injury.

"We wanted you to see what we're like live," says Chief.

The four are having a lot of fun, and the energy, enthusiasm, and, well, the sheer volume of their presentation exemplifies what metal is about.

Vocalist Scott, whose pinkish cheeks and shy smile belie his gut-wrenching mic talents, casts his eyes toward the floor when he says he sees his lyrics as "poetry . . . more than just someone getting up there and screaming. I see the world around me, as messed up as it is, and try to explain it."

His sentiment is common among metal musicians, a group whose over-the-top image has so often overshadowed the fact that it is as resilient and vital a popular musical form as any -- and no more so than here in Worcester where all manner of heavy music (grind-, rap-, emo-, and hardcore included) draws the faithful.

Today, the softer end of the metal spectrum enjoys a particularly high profile in the mainstream. Hip-hop-tinged thrashers Korn practically own MTV's video rotation; and the incomparable Metallica have toured almost eight years straight with nary an empty seat in a venue along the way.

While the major labels may continue to eschew the most extreme types of metal and heavy music in general, fans can't get enough. The past year has seen a series of festivals like the New England Metal and Hardcore Festival (April 30 to May 2 at the Palladium) and two recent weekend blowouts in New Jersey and Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

Extreme, yet small music labels like Relapse and Earache now enjoy strong in-store, and even stronger mail-order sales.

"Metal's back," says Mark Thompson of Boston's Hydrahead Records, a growing metal label that has signed several of the genre's most-up-and-coming bands. Hydrahead will have a showcase at this weekend's Palladium show, notably featuring Cave-In, considered visionaries by metal enthusiasts.

"It's only natural," agrees GSS's Tor. "Whenever music gets stale, like a lot of it is now, heavy music comes back as a means of revolt against it."

THOUGH LOUD, distorted guitar goes back as far as the 1950s, à la Link Wray, it was power trios like the Eric Clapton-led Cream and musicians like Jimi Hendrix who first set the stage for full-on, band-based heavy music, where volume took center stage without foregoing melody.

It was a sound that slashed its way into national prominence by the 1970s with Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, Steppenwolf, and Deep Purple. Metal's influence even reached the abundant jam-rock scene, evidenced by the music of groups like Mountain.

But in the 1980s metal revealed its split personality. While NWOBHM (New Wave of British Heavy Metal) acts like Judas Priest and Iron Maiden retained and expanded upon the weighty repertoire of their predecessors, metal in mainstream American music was filled with "hair bands" like Poison and Ratt (though Metallica clearly stand out as an exception), for whom the look of metal -- lip-pursing publicity shots, leather pants, and pointy guitars -- took precedence over (shudder!) the writing of music that was actually heavy.

The early-'90s, hair-band backlash at the hands of the grunge movement is well documented. (Perhaps no better evidence of it exists today than on VH1's Where Are They Now, which often features musicians from the big-hair subset. Ouch.) Raw, alpha-grunge-band Nirvana probably hammered the biggest nail into the poseurs' coffin (Tawny Kitaen lolling on the hood of David Coverdale's car just didn't stack up to cheerleaders with black lipstick and sleeve-length tattoos).

Groups like Soundgarden and Pearl Jam -- though seen by some as overly derivative -- nonetheless re-injected the initial credibility and fire of such early, landmark acts as Sabbath and Zeppelin.

Following closely on the heels of grunge came Rage Against the Machine, a group whose profound influence echoes today. The still-vital band's infusion of hip-hop into metal spawned countless spin-offs, some of the finest examples of which can be found in Worcester -- Eastcide, Seven Hills Psychos, and Chillum, to name a few.

What is unique about metal's reboundability is that its core fan base is one of the most dedicated in existence, no matter how much the style changes, or what type is currently in favor.

"The consistent popularity of heavy music is based upon a hardcore group of fans that really know their shit," says vocalist Ironlung of Mt. Washington, New Hampshire's Scissorfight.

"It really never went, or never goes, away. Even when radio and MTV aren't playing it, lots of bands are still producing it, and plenty of people are buying it," says Jon Paris, a New York-based publicity agent who works closely with the Earache label.

And a microcosm of metal's consistent potency in the marketplace can be found in Worcester's own music scene. GSS's Chief says that, "the most happening places for live music in this city is, and has been for years, the Espresso Bar." (The all-ages club, which primarily features heavy music, is temporarily closed while owner Eric Spencer seeks money and a new location. The proposed site is on Water Street.)

At least one confirmation of Chief's statement was made apparent one rainy Sunday afternoon this February, when well over 100 punk kids, dressed to the nines -- sporting the real deal, from foot-high mohawks to impossibly beaded, pierced, and otherwise adorned faces, clothing, and bodies -- stood, smoked cigarettes, and chatted outside the Espresso Bar, waiting for the next band to play in an 11(!)-act bill.

"Eric Spencer is a huge, huge supporter of Worcester's music scene," says GSS's Chief. "We owe him a lot. We probably wouldn't be a band if it weren't for him."

"I did it, and will continue to do it, because I love it," says Spencer. "Enough people just don't realize that all music, not just heavy stuff, starts in the small clubs, in the all-ages clubs, as well as in the larger, over-21 places. It's all connected. If someone doesn't support it at its beginning level, the music will die."

Spencer says that the Espresso Bar's initial five-year run (before being forced to close earlier this year due to escalating rent and pressures from neighboring businesses) had a huge success, despite meager (and sometimes non-existent) profits. "We got the national bands in here. When we first started out, where were the national acts, the ones too small for the Centrum? Not at the Palladium, not at the Auditorium, not anywhere."

Shows at the EB regularly drew hundreds of fans, and not only for national groups. "Seven Hills Psychos outsold Godsmack last year, and they didn't have a gold record, videos, and airplay on WAAF."

That type of work ethic is what it takes to succeed in heavy music, according to Tony Incigeri, frontman of the Brooklyn metal band Shango and a scene veteran, having been a partner during the '80s at Crazed Management, which represented Raven, Overkill, and Metallica among others. "I was there, right there when Metallica was first starting out," says Incigeri. "Those guys earned everything they have today. They were there in the van, four guys, no food, no money, playing every night. And little by little they got somewhere. They did it for the music. Everyone did."

Incigeri says that philosophy is the one he and his cohorts in Shango adopted when they formed the group seven years ago. "First of all, we practiced for three and a half years before playing in front of anyone. And second, we didn't bow to any sort of record-company demands. What we're doing is for the fans, but ultimately, it's for us. It's for me." Major labels came calling, looking to sign Shango, but hinted that for a contract to actually be signed, their music would have to change. "They wanted something more alternative, to fit in with what was going on at the time. The record industry encourages that sort of thing. We said no. . . . As far as we go, if you're a dog, you just don't become a cat."

Though Incigeri's view of the mainstream music industry may be true, a survey of recent independent and underground metal, hardcore, and otherwise-heavy releases indicates that originality and adherence to one's ideals has a solid footing outside the walls of the machine.

THE FIRST INCLINATION of an outsider, or even many casual observers of the metal scene, is to discount, even laugh at most of its content. Admittedly, most metal bands are anything but subtle. The cover of Shango's album Metal Mafia sports a comically graphic photo of one of the band's "henchmen" (large, black-suit clad, silent men who flank the stage with arms crossed during concerts) being garrotted. California death metallers Exhumed's latest, Gore Metal, displays the pleasing sight of an unlucky soul's entrails strewn over the counters and tabletops of a cramped, darkened kitchenette.

Richmond, Virginia's GWAR (who headline the Palladium event) have presented their brand of sludge-metal for nearly 20 years. Their Palladium performance, which GWAR member Techno Destructo insists, "is all quite real," will feature chain-mail clad GWAR woman "Slymenstra" firing a lighting bolt out of her hand, and a super-sized meat grinder into which volunteers from the audience will be fed.

Antics aside, it's the nature of the music that draws many to the genre.

"I'm a fan of a lot of kinds of music; but it just so happens that the way I choose to express myself through music is in a heavy sort of style," says grindcore legend Barney Greenaway, vocalist for England's Napalm Death.

Napalm Death, in particular, are quite cognizant of the world around them, with lyrics surrounding such topics as fascist rule, the Troubles in Northern Ireland, and nuclear war. And they are somewhat unique in that the vocals are delivered with a good deal of consideration for the listener -- unlike many grind bands' lyrics, these you can actually make out.

Nevertheless, says Greenaway, the message too often doesn't get through to some listeners. "It's a little annoying sometimes, the way press people will write about the stuff, just dismiss it as noise without really giving it a chance. I mean, as long as something is written with the intent of being constructive, people can say whatever they want." Greenaway has been on both sides of the fence, having written extensively for such metal magazines as Kerrang and Metal Hammer. "We're quite serious about what we do, about what we're saying. Hey, someone needs to say it."

Ironlung and Scissorfight have a slightly different agenda. "We're pushing sex, drugs, and rock and roll! We, I, just wanted to be in a band, have a good time, and get drunk." Soon after this is said, however, Ironlung relents: "Well, I guess we're not totally a joke. . . . I think if someone really wants to, they can look at the music and find an underlying message. In fact, I think the title of our latest album [1998's Balls Deep] sums it up quite well. I mean, if you go balls deep in someone, or some thing, that's the way to do it. Balls deep is the way to approach anything in life."

Tony Incigeri sides with Ironlung's view -- sort of. "We're out there to entertain people. I really think the idea of showmanship has dwindled somewhat in the metal world." In 1992, at age 33, having been several years removed from the music business, he saw that void, and formed Shango, along with guitarist Tom Stigi and drummer Rob Racalbuto.

"There's nothing wrong with a political agenda in music. I just think it can be dangerous, if you start out that way from the very beginning. You're going to be subjected to finger-pointing as the years go on. You'll be trapped if you want to change."

Yet it is hard to put the onus for metal's trips back underground completely on the record industry or the buying public. "A lot of people start up bands with next to no originality. Take a look a Reveille," says Tor of God Stands Still. Reveille, from Harvard, Massachusetts, created a stir last year when the fledgling group (average age 17, with only a handful of live shows played) were signed to Elektra. "I don't know, they sound like Rage Against the Machine to me."

"It's only natural that things get stale after a while. It's just not easy to write completely new stuff," says GSS's Chief. "I mean, there's only so many chug riffs available. There's not a whole lot of room in E minor."

"We're all thieves," says Incigeri. "All the good riffs were written in the '70s. You just try to make the best of it, mix it up as best you can."

And that approach seems to be working. GSS's Tor puts it succinctly: "For every clone band out there, there are two or three other ones for who anything goes. It's all over the map."

The line-up for the NEMF is certainly representative of metal's diversity. The 70-plus band, three-day event will showcase a stunning array of metal styles. For sheer exuberance, it's hard to beat newcomers Puya, originally from Puerto Rico, who played their first-ever East Coast show at the Espresso Bar. (Puya perform on Saturday.) Tracks like the title cut from their MCA disc Fundamental move from 100 percent legitimate mambo and salsa to hardcore passages that are as intensely heavy as anything else out there. On the track "Solo," vocalist Sergio Curbelo sings in a high, pure tenor, backed by a flawless horn section, then nearly snaps a vocal cord in the chorus as he calls upon his Latino peers to respect and celebrate their heritage.

Festival info The New England Metal and Hardcore Festival at the Palladium in Worcester runs Friday, April 30 (6 p.m. to 1 a.m.), Saturday, May 1 (noon to 1 a.m.), and Sunday, May 2 (noon to 12:30 a.m.). Friday Morbid Angel (12:15 a.m.), Napalm Death (11 p.m.), Hatebreed (10), Converge (9:15), Candiria (8:30), Skinlab (7:45), Buried Alive (7:10), Piecemeal (6:35) and Dead Eyes Under (6). Second Stage Today is The Day (11:50 p.m.), Bongzilla (11:10), Cave-In (10:30), Dillinger Escape Plan (9:50), Drowning Man (9:10), Isis (8:30), Exhumed (7:50), Benumb (7:10), Nightstick (6:40) and Keelhaul (6:10). Sponsored by Relapse and Hydrahead Records. Saturday Gwar (12 a.m.), Deicide (10:45 p.m.), Overkill (9:30), Sa.m. Black Church (8:30), Gorguts (7:50), Tree (7:10), Cryptopsy (6:30), Crisis (5:50), Vital Remains (5:10), Shadows Fall (4:40), All Out War (4:10), Dying Fetus (3:40), Shango (2:40), Withered Earth (2:10), Pessimist (1:40), The Beast (1:10), Doom Nation (12:40), and Catheter (12:10). Second Stage Wonderdrug Records showcase with Honkeyball (11:30 p.m.), Non Compos Mentis (10:50) and Diecast (10:10). Gangsta Bitch Barbie (9:30), Roadsaw (9), Fear Tomorrow (8:30), Ground Zero (8), Nothing Stays Gold (7:30), Seven Day Curse (7), God Stands Still (6:30), Hypnotic Kick (6), Tyrant Trooper (5:30), Grimlock (5), Warhorse (4:30), 100 Demons (4), Blood Coven (3:30), Godhead (3), Seven Hill Psychos (2:30), Hedred (2), Burial (1:30), and Unearth (1). Sunday Manowar (11:30 p.m.), Earth Crisis (10:30), Madball (9:45), Scissorfight (9), Reveille (8:45), One King Down (8), Reach the Sky (7:20), Skinless (6:50), Bane (6:20), Eastside (5:50), Nok (5:20), Gargantua Soul (4:50), Human Disorder (4:20), Ursurper (3:50), Catchthirteen (3:20), 7th Rail Crew (2:50), In My Eyes (2:20), Hate Machine (1:50), The Death Kids (1:20), Hinge (12:50), and Scurvy (12:20). Second Stage E-Town Concrete (11:30 p.m.), Clay People (10:50), Indecision (10:10), Shutdown (9:30), At Any Cost (9), Fortydaysrain (8:30), Diabolic (8), Red Mercury (7:30), Never Again (7), Shed (6:30), Death Threat (6), Blood Has Been Shed (5:30), Red Tide (5), 6 Thirty 7 (4:30), Torn Assunder (4), Monster (3:30), Say Your Prayers (3), Humans Being (2:30), If Inertia (2), Autumn's Bleeding (1:30), Drained (1), and Vita.m.in F (12:30). Sunday at the Commercial Street Cafe Another Society (12:15 a.m.), Rawhead Rex (11:30 p.m.), DCON (10:45), Stocklan (10), Shoot the Dancing Bear (9:15), Money Penny (8:30), Fragment (7:45), Fallen (7), Overthrow (6:15), Perpetual Doom (5:30), and the Step Kings (4:45). A three-day pass for the festival is $55, single-day tickets are $22. Both are on sale now at all Strawberries or by calling ProTix at (800) 477-6849. They can also be purchased at the Relapse Records at www.relapse.com. For more information call (617) 499-9797.

Florida-based death metal group Morbid Angel (coheadlining this Friday) have long been at the top with a consistently evolving style that never sacrifices the music's core elements. Guitarist and leader Trey Azagthoth's lyrics center around his beliefs in the ancient Sumerian's system of living under three gods, accordingly one leads a life free of impurities. His music is as grim and angry as can be but shoulders a specific focus. It explores such topics as treachery, hatred, enslavement, all the ill intentions of mankind -- not merely for exploitative value but in a search for knowledge and awareness. On a purely musical level, Morbid Angel's sound does justice to the lofty aspirations of its subject matter. Azagthoth is as talented a guitarist as can be imagined. His playing on MA's latest release, Formulas Fatal to the Flesh, moves from heavily syncopated rhythm lines to bizarre modal solos with a liquid ease. Bassist/vocalist Steve Tucker delivers Azagthoth's phonetically baffling lyrics (most are written in the ancient Sumerian tongue) in a glass-gargling rasp that -- along with the intricate, muscular racket of drummer Pete Sandoval -- creates a sound that is at once harrowing, exhilarating, and simply weird.

The "old-school" metal camp is also alive and well. New York veterans Manowar (now based primarily in Europe) will headline this Sunday. The leather-panted quartet retain the title of "World's Loudest Band." They are listed as such in the Guinness Book of World Records, having set the record with a concert in Hanover, Germany, that reached 129.5 decibels (10 or so dBs louder than a low-flying jet airplane). According to Manowar's label, Metal Blade, the band will be full-on at the Metalfest. Translation: they're bringing the motorcycles!

Hardcore acts, such as Boston-based Converge -- probably the number-one underground band in the nation -- will not disappoint when they play the main stage on Saturday. On record, such as the 1994's Caring and Killing, their music sounds rather like a Hell's Angel being flayed by a Weed Whacker. But what is borderline unlistenable becomes something altogether different when witnessed live.

Converge shows reflect another time-honored aspect of metal concerts, that of bands bonding with their audience. "At the last Espresso Bar show they played, there must have been a hundred people up on the stage with the band, dancing, jumping, and singing along with them," says EB's Spencer.

Perhaps that best explains the draw to metal. And, as far as Worcester bands go, it's a spirit they've seen from the onset.

"I wouldn't say we're running around hugging each other but it's definitely pretty strong," says GSS's Chief. "I don't know too many cutthroats. Everyone wants to get ahead but nobody is stabbing you in the back."

Getting ahead is certainly what several local bands will do this weekend as a number have been picked to take either the main or second stage at the festival. Seven Hills Psychos, Gangsta Bitch Barbie, Reveille, Fortydaysrain, Shed, Bane, and God Stands Still are among the Worcester bands.

And many who've played the smaller venues will get their first shot at playing with metal veterans, metal icons.

"I personally can't wait to get up there and play," says Chief. "We're all pretty excited. . . . It's a chance to hang out, listen to a lot of good bands, meet people, and, most of all, try to get some attention."