This Flippant Cabaret

Wow. I haven't updated for awhile.

This has been one hell of a year. With this past weekend effectively closing out my calendar, I've managed to squeeze in forty-two different live events in 2010. This includes:

-15 metal concerts, including Maryland Deathfest VIII
-10 rock and other concerts, including the symphony (and, for simplicity's sake, also Lewis Black and Henry Rollins)
-6 plays (including two performances of 404 Strand's Faust Us
-5 musicals (including two performances of The Phantom of the Opera)
-3 dance performances
-2 operas
-and, for the first time in eight years, 1 sporting event

With two or three exceptions, I don't think I could possibly qualify one event or another as being better or worse than the others. Everything I've attended has been superb.

However, with great difficulty, I have put together a list of some of the highlights from 2010. This is of course not intended in any way to reflect poorly upon other aspects of that particular event, nor to disparage another event by comparison. But some things did stand out among everything else, and these highlights include, in no particular order:

• Roger Waters tears down the wall at the end of the iconic rock theater production in Pittsburgh. This was also my first experience in the new Consol Energy Center, and it is a GREAT venue.
  
• Portal opens a gateway to hell as they close the second day of Maryland Deatfest VIII. The lights go out, their cacophonous black metal roars to life, and a circle pit like no other opens in the middle of the floor. Theirs was easily one of the most singularly memorable performances in Baltimore this year.
  
• Also at Maryland Deathfest VIII, now in the middle of the third day, Dutch grind band Rompeprop dress in costumes and fake blood, take to the stage with a beach party song blaring on the PA, and throw cans of beer into the audience. They then tore our ears to shreds.
  
• French conductor Yan Pascal Tortelier directed the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra's grand performance of Gustav Holst's iconic Planets suite without using a score.
  
• Sending Pittsburgh to hell in early November, Watain celebrate the end of all things with the potent "Stellarvore" and the epic fourteen-minute "Waters of Ain."
  
• Playing at Mr. Small's in October, Chicago avant-garde metallers Yakuza blow away all expectations with the first song in their set, "Be that as it may," from their aptly-titled 2010 record Of Seismic Consequence. A blaring opening gives way to a gentle but tense midsection with vocalist Bruce LaMont's saxophone soaring over the guitar and rhythm section. Then a pause--before Ivan Cruz's destructive bass line foretells the blistering chaos of the second half of the song. LaMont barks into the microphone like a man possessed... And the eight minutes pass as quickly as they seem to have begun. This was the best possible introduction to Yakuza I could have asked for.
  
• On the same night as Yakuza, Swiss titans Triptykon, fronted by the legendary Tom Gabriel Fischer, bring the house down, ending their set with the monolithic nineteen-minute "The Prolonging." The venom and bitterness in the lyrics are sufficient to set an orphanage on fire, nevermind the oppressive fury of the music.
  
• On the downsized Ozzfest 2010, Ozzy performs "Crazy Train" with ten-year old guitar wizkid Yuto Miyazawa. The performance very obviously recalls the late Randy Rhoads, and it's likewise clear that Ozzy considers Yuto in similar terms.
  
• On Combichrist's North American tour through November, Canadian industrial/EBM duo iVardensphere open the night and host special guest members in the form of Booming Tree Taiko. The sheer joy and energy that Greg Shimizu and Twilla MacLeod exhibit in their expressive and highly artistic performance arguably makes iVardensphere's half-hour set surpass that of the headliners! The whole show was fantastic, but the addition of Booming Tree Taiko to the event made the night transcendant. I truly hope that I get a chance to see them perform again.
  
• Laura Claycomb stars in the title role of Pittsburgh Opera's magnificent production of Donizetti's Lucia di Lammermoor and delivers a performance that is nothing less than extraordinary. Her performance of the mad scene in the second act--the centerpiece of the opera and the role--is stunningly powerful and intense. Claycomb brought the heart-breaking tragedy of the scene to life with her masterful vocals and believably delirious acting. I highly recommend all to see this opera should you ever have the opportunity.

Yeah. It's been a good year.

A sample of the events already on the calendar to look forward to in 2011: Maryland Deathfest IX; Norwegian black metal legends Immortal at Mr. Small's; Flogging Molly at the new Stage AE; and the twenty-fifth anniversary tour of Les Miserables in Cleveland. Much, much more to come...

Once again, I'm sure that I would have come across the name of Fear Factory in due course, as they are clearly visible among other bands in the metal genre. But once again, my initial discovery of them was entirely incidental: around the time that Test Drive 4 was released for the first PlayStation console in October 1997, the then-very young PlayStation Magazine, or PSM, had a small feature on the game that included some hints, secrets, and cheat codes that players could exploit. One of the hidden secrets in the game was a car that featured the logo of Fear Factory. (I cannot recall for certain, but I want to say that snippets of the band's music was also included somewhere in the game.) My curiosity was naturally piqued and I researched the band on our blazingly-fast dial-up Internet; the rest is history. My first introduction to the band was with their seminal classic 1995 album Demanufacture, and within the next year I also picked up their newest release, Obsolete.

Test Drive 4 wouldn't be the band's first flirtation with videogames: their cover of the Gary Numan song "Cars" would appear in Test Drive 6, and Fear Factory also closely collaborated with the makers of PC game Messiah to include some of their material in the soundtrack for that game.

Incidentally, around the time that Messiah finally saw release in 2000, the band that produced its music began to unravel. In 2001 Fear Factory released Digimortal, an album that continued the band's long-running sci-fi lyrical fascination with the relationship between man and machine. The album was largely panned by metal purists, however, for the band's experimentation with the alternative metal and--I hate to even say the term--"nu-metal" that was popular at the time. Shortly thereafter, guitarist Dino Cazares and vocalist Burton C. Bell had a row that led to Cazares leaving the band. The group subsequently reformed, less Cazares, and recorded a couple of reasonably well-received albums through the next decade - 2004's Archetype and 2005's Transgression, with bassist Christian Olde Wolbers stepping in to fill Cazares' duties on guitar, and renowned bassist Byron Stroud taking Wolbers' place. But neither record met with nearly the same success or enthusiasm as the band's previous efforts.

Fans were thrilled, then, to see Cazares return to the fold in 2009. Wolbers and original drummer Raymond Herrera were kicked out, and even as drumming legend Gene Hoglan was brought in to round out the band's roster, Wolbers and Herrera sued over the naming rights to the band. The legal battle is ongoing, but it has not stopped the reformed Fear Factory from releasing in February 2010 their strongest album in more than a decade, Mechanize, which is by all means a return to form, recalling to some extent Demanufacture and even the band's debut, Soul of a New Machine.

Coming back stronger than ever after ten years' of various struggles, I was intent to see Fear Factory live as soon as the opportunity arose. This past Tuesday marked the last stop on this leg of their "Fear Campaign 2010" tour, and to my great pleasure, the show was at none other than Mr. Small's.

Beginning the evening a full ten minutes behind schedule was Pittsburgh band Ascend the Fallen. I was particularly unpleased with their late start, and perhaps for that reason initially judged them more harshly then I otherwise would have. Ascend the Fallen play in a style of death-influenced groove metal not unlike the hugely successful Lamb of God; occasionally it seemed like they strayed into the weaker style of latter-day Pantera, but overall they put forth a good performance. Bearing my bias in mind, though, it still seemed like they were off to a particularly weak start, as though they couldn't find their legs. About halfway through their set they became more solidly grounded, and the last two or three songs the band played were nearly sufficient to compel me to buy their debut album. I only say "nearly," however, because like the other two acts that opened this evening, Ascend the Fallen put on a good live show, but I'm not so convinced that their studio recording would offer anything distinguishably noteworthy. And despite the strong performances and strong finish, the one definite and consistent weakness in their set, I'm afraid to say, was with their vocalist, who carried himself onstage as though he'd never been on a stage before and seemingly acted like he thought a metal vocalist should act. Hopefully his performance will improve with time, because he was exceptionally unimpressive on this night.

Still, in general - a good start to the evening.

Next on stage were Providence-based band Thy Will Be Done, who I had a chance to see this past January with Suffocation and Devildriver. Maybe simply by virtue of not being the very first act onstage, Thy Will Be Done left a much better impression this time than they did a few months ago. Their style remains rooted in deathcore/groove metal, but this time I picked up on more of the thrash influence in their sound. Again, not a band whose albums I'm likely to pick up, but they put on a good live show.

Direct support this evening were Los Angeles-based Silent Civilian, whose T-shirts convey an attitude ("DRINK BOOZE, SMOKE WEED, GET FUCKED") I'm not entirely sure they deserve to carry. In general, the band put on a good performance, and I enjoyed their set. The problem I have is the interspersal of clean vocals among what is otherwise solidly melodic death metal. Vocalist Jonny Santos, formerly of Spineshank, put forth a good performance along with the rest of the band, but his style of singing simply kills the atmosphere that the band otherwise creates. I feel like the band would greatly benefit by choosing a sound and sticking with it: they could very easily rewrite their songs ever-so-slightly to match the clean vocals and become an outright power/thrash band in the vein of Iced Earth; or they could just as easily rewrite the songs a tiny bit to match the growls of melodic death metal. But to mix the vocal styles as Santos has done, strong though the band may be, is only detrimental to what Silent Civilian could otherwise achieve.

Keep this point in mind, because it will be important again very soon.

At last, then - taking longer to come onstage than I would have found ideal - it was time for Fear Factory.

Fear Factory first formed in 1989 as a purely death metal band called Ulceration, but they shortly changed their name to their present moniker as a reflection of the sound they were developing. Combining the industrial metal of the likes of Ministry with the early death metal seen in Obituary or the like, Fear Factory began their career with Soul of a New Machine in 1992. Their sophomore release, Demanufacture, almost certainly remains their best. Introducing greater melody and more diverse elements, including groove metal, into the songwriting, Demanufacture also is far more expressive of vocalist Burton C. Bell's great abilities.

The flaw of Silent Civilian is one of the great strengths of Fear Factory: Jonny Santos introduces such clean vocals into Silent Civilian's songs as though for a few lines of each track, the band were suddenly writing to accommodate Bruce Dickinson or Rob Halford (though, mind you, Santos is certainly neither); the atmosphere of the song is completely altered and therefore destroyed. Burton C. Bell also uses clean vocals in Fear Factory, but he is far more adept at switching between demonic death metal growls and the despairingly mournful wails of fallen angels. In both Bell's vocal style and in the songwriting, the atmosphere that each song creates remains intact, and Fear Factory has built and maintained their deservedly great reputation on this close relationship.

What's more is that Fear Factory's style in general, but more specifically Bell's vocals, have served as an inspiration and influence for many, many bands - some good, others not so much. For example, one of the hallmarks of the highly overrated deathcore style is the combination of death metal riffs and vocals with, musically, the grooves and breakdowns of hardcore or other divergent genres, and vocally, clean singing. The difference between death metal and deathcore is effectively the difference between, say, Master of Puppets and Reload. Deathcore is almost universally considered a blight on the genre for precisely this reason; it's better that people be introduced to metal through deathcore than nu-metal, but only just.

But where so many subsequent acts have failed, Fear Factory continues to succeed. Bell's vocals are far stronger than those of more recent bands, and even if they weren't, the rest of Fear Factory's performances and songwriting more than accommodates the style.

On 1998's Obsolete, Fear Factory explored the sci-fi lyrical conceptions even further, and began to experiment more with groove metal and alternative metal. These experimentations would be expanded upon even further with Digimortal in 2001, though I must say: for all the negative word-of-mouth surrounding Digimortal, this being the reason I've avoided it all these years, the two songs from that record that Fear Factory included in their set this night came off very well. I might have to investigate it after all, for better or for worse.

Then Cazares left, and the band effectively split. They reformed for Archetype and Transgression, both of which received mixed reviews, until, finally, Cazares returned--and the Fear Factory we all know and love returned--with Mechanize.

Whatever different paths the band's sound may have taken in the past decade, Mechanize is truly a return to form. While not as strong as Demanufacture, Mechanize recalls the industrial death metal sound for which the band first gained such a solid reputation. If this is any indication of what we can expect from the band in the years to come, I cannot wait to see more material and more live performances.

Fear Factory's great setlist this night:

"Mechanize"
"Shock" (Obsolete)
"Edgecrusher" (Obsolete)
"Smasher/Devourer" (Obsolete)
"Acres of Skin" (Digimortal)
"Linchpin" (Digimortal)
"Powershifter" (Mechanize)
"Fear Campaign" (Mechanize)
"Demanufacture"
"Self-Bias Resistor" (Demanufacture)
"Martyr" (Soul of a New Machine)
"Descent" (Obsolete)
"Final Exit" (Mechanize)

And for an encore:
"Zero Signal" (Demanufacture)
"Replica" (Demanufacture)

Naturally, I walked into this evening with preconceived notions of what the set should look like; there were some more songs that I would have liked to have seen, but most of all I simply wish the set was longer, period.

I guess I'll just have to make a point of seeing Fear Factory live again. Oh, woe is me.

Usually I stand back a little bit from the stage so as to avoid the mosh pit - I want to see the show, not fight the crowd. But for this night I made an exception and fought my way to the barrier just in front of the stage. Sure, once the pit started thrashing and the crowd-surfers falling, it was a constant struggle just to stand upright. But that's a small price to pay to be three or four feet from Bell, Cazares, and Stroud as they strutted around the stage, or to have such a great "front-row seat," as it were, to Hoglan's always-captivating drumwork.

Another spectacular concert for the year--and I am most definitely catching Fear Factory the next time they come around.

The series of band announcements leading up to the Deathfest in 2009 is what first piqued my interest in the festival. Then, late last summer, the Washington Post published a story by a complete outsider being introduced to extreme metal by grindcore masters Pig Destroyer through attending last year's seventh-annual event. I still highly recommend the article, appropriately titled "Into the Darkness" - it's a good read.

At this point I was more or less sold on investigating the Maryland Deathfest in 2010. By the end of September last year I had made my hotel reservations and bought my three-day pass for this year's festival.

I chose wisely.

From the time that bands first started to be booked for the festival late last summer up until the day of, the roster changed. Some bands had to pull out, others were added in. The official MDF t-shirts, featuring all the names of the performing bands on the back, aren't even accurate; they were printed a couple months beforehand, and in the interim Stormcrow, Trap Them, and Sodom were forced to pull out, and Circle of Dead Children as well, though the latter were replaced by Rochester, NY's Crucifist.

Especially as Circle of Dead Children hail from Pittsburgh, I was particularly disappointed when they pulled out two or three weeks prior to the festival due to a committment by the drummer out of which he could not back out. Likewise, I was greatly excited to see German thrash legends Sodom in a rare Stateside performance, so it was crushing that they were forced to pull out a week before the festival because they were unable to obtain visas.

Still, aside from these, the festival was simply amazing. When it was all said and done, a total of fifty-eight bands played on the three stages between the three days of the festival. The diverse roster, hailing from around the country and the world:

Friday, 28 May
The Communion
Putrescence (Winnipeg)
Defeatist
Tombs
Jesus Cröst (Netherlands)
Birds of Prey
Watain (Sweden)
Gride (Czech Republic)
Coffins (Japan)
D.R.I. [Dirty Rotten Imbeciles]
Nazxul (Australia)
Gorguts (Canada)
Malignancy

Saturday, 29 May
Howl
Sulaco
Fuck the Facts (Ottawa)
Ingrowing (Czech Republic)
Obliteration (Norway)
Jucifer
Impaled
Blood Duster (Australia)
Verbal Abuse
Deceased
Wolfbrigade (Sweden)
Portal (Australia)
Total Fucking Destruction
Possessed
Sadistic Intent
Melechesh (Israel)
Repulsion
Autopsy
Fang
The Chasm (Mexico)
Incantation
Asphyx (Netherlands)

Sunday, 30 May
Honkey Kong
Rottenness
Surroundings
Massgrave
Rompeprop (Netherlands)
Crucifist
Gridlink
Black Breath
Captain Cleanoff (Australia)
Converge
Magrudergrind
Capitalist Casualties
From Ashes Rise
Gorod (France)
Necrophobic (Sweden)
Pestilence (Netherlands)
Pentagram
Obituary
Krallice
Sinister (Netherlands)
Eyehategod
Nirvana (Sweden)
Entombed (Sweden)

Much is to be said about all the bands, but certainly I'm not going to spend the time to write something about each and every one of them; suffice it to say that with two or three exceptions, they were all excellent and put on great shows. However, some of the groups did stand out even more than the others.

On the first day of the festival, Australia's Nazxul were the first band to come onstage dressed in corpsepaint, and the vocalist's red robe especially stood out as though it were the frock of Satanic high priest. Nazxul were also one of the few bands in the festival to feature a keyboardist, as their style of atmospheric black metal requires.

Though nothing particular is to be said about the bands' performance, grindcore bands Jesus Cröst and Gride stood out on the first day as well, as did Czech band Ingrowing on the second day.

Swedish black metallers Watain also put on a blistering performance replete in... well, see for yourself. Covering the stage with candles and other mood-setting pieces, Watain's style of black metal hearkens to the early primal days of Darkthrone and the like, before keyboards were introduced into the genre and when blinding speed and fury were the order of the day. They were definitely one of the highlights of the entire festival.

Providence, Rhode Island's Howl got the second day of the festival off to a great start. Playing a style resembling High on Fire's stoner metal crossed with the sludge of early Mastodon, I was easily convinced to pick up some of the band's merchandise.

Canadian grindcore band Fuck the Facts also put forth a great performance, though not least notable is that the band is led by vocalist Mel Mongeon - like Dreaming Dead's Elizabeth Schall, one of the relatively few women in extreme metal to be behind the microphone. Sludge metal act Jucifer also carry this distinction thanks to guitarist/vocalist Amber Valentine. Along with guitarist Andrea from Howl, Mongeon and Valentine were the only women on the stage throughout the festival.

I should note that I say that despite the outdoors set of Total Fucking Destruction. Vocalist Jane Vincent of the band Abiku joined TFD on stage for guest vocals on the last few of their songs, but she added nothing whatsoever to their set. In fact, TFD would have been better off without her guest performance: Vincent did not sing, or growl, or shriek, or bark, or yell, or offer anything resembling what one would call vocals. She screamed. As in, "oh my god there's this crazy asshole running after me with a knife who wants to kill me," screamed. I'll give Abiku the benefit of the doubt here, but in the least, Vincent didn't do TFD any favors. Based on her contribution I have to say that Total Fucking Destruction were one of the few bands of the weekend that I came away disliking, which very honestly isn't fair to anyone - but there it is.

Long-running punk band Fang show clear influences from thrash, and their rowdy frontman Sam McBride built a great rapport with the audience, poking fun at Green Day and recognizing someone in the audience with whom he served time in prison.

The one blip in the schedule for Saturday was with death metal act Sadistic Intent and early death metal pioneers Possessed. The two bands shared the stage on Saturday afternoon because while Possessed were supposed to play during Day One, due to various circumstances they were forced onto the schedule for the second day, and the best that the organizers could do was to have the two bands share the stage. This wasn't such a bad thing though: I'm sure that any band would be glad to share the stage with such a legendary band as Possessed, but as it happens, Sadistic Intent is comprised entirely of members of that other band. Only Possessed vocalist Jeff Becerra is not involved in Sadistic Intent, so when the "two bands in one" were on stage, he simply sat out the songs of Sadistic Intent.

Regardless of this bizarre turn of events, both bands were fantastic. Their early style of death metal takes obvious cues from thrash titans Slayer, which only makes sense since both bands rose to fame in the '80s. And even though Jeff Becerra was paralyzed from the waist down and confined to a wheelchair following a gunshot wound in the early '90s, he has not allowed his disability to get in the way of his performance, which was outstanding.

Repulsion are noted as early pioneers of the grindcore subgenre, and they put on a great performance on the street stage.

Autopsy, meanwhile - like Entombed and Obituary, who would play on Sunday - are LEGENDS AMONG LEGENDS in the death metal genre. Each of these bands put on stellar performances to prove their worth. To see them all live was outright phenomenal.

Towards the end of the evening, thrash stalwarts Deceased paid tribute to Ronnie James Dio with a rousing rendition of "Stand Up and Shout."

Swedish band Wolfbrigade came off sounding a bit like Deströyer 666, if that blackened death metal band were rooted in hardcore/grindcore.

The last band to play on Saturday night again caught my rapt attention. Hailing from Australia, Portal play a harsh, primitive style of black metal not unlike that of Watain. What especially made Portal stand out, however, was that all the lights in the main room were turned out save for those backlighting the band as they played. Each member wore black cloaks and black masks that entirely covered their faces; their vocalist, going by the stage name "The Curator," went a step further and wore a black mitre. What's more, I should say that while the pit was kept strong and healthy throughout virtually every band's set, it definitely caught a second wind when Deceased and especially Wolfbrigade played this night. But when Portal took the stage, The Curator's measured gesticulations, the hellish fire of the music, and the berzerker frenzy of the crowd all made it seem as though Hell itself had opened a yawning chasm in the middle of the floor.

Where the second day both began and ended on a strong and high note, however, the third day began with a whimper. I cannot imagine for the life of me imagine any reason why Honkey Kong were invited to the Maryland Deathfest - perhaps save for that they are based in Baltimore. Certainly they had no place among the other bands at the festival, however; they came off as a D-list knockoff of a clone of a Blink 182 cover band that was dabbling in deathcore. They were atrocious. They were abysmal. Even Despised Icon or Hero Destroyed were more appealing than Honkey Kong, and that's saying a lot.

I did not entirely care for Surroundings, either, who were the third band onstage on Sunday. However, the rest of the day was just as spectacular as the previous two.

Dutch band Rompeprop took longer than they should have to come onstage. Once they did, though, all was forgiven. Like Australia's Blood Duster, Rompeprop's brand of grindcore is rife with humor (check out their setlist), but more than this: they came onstage, either covered in fake blood or dressed in a skeleton costume, to what was essentially a beach party song and threw cans of beer into the audience. I regret not picking up their t-shirt.

French band Gorod (formerly known as Gorgasm) play in a progressive/technical style of death metal, not entirely unlike reunited legends Gorguts from the first day, that definitely distinguished them from most of the other bands in the festival.

Swedish black/death metallers Necrophobic noted that this was their first-ever show in the United States. They were great, and I sincerely hope they come back.

Likewise, Swedish death metal band Nirvana here marked their first ever appearance outside Sweden. This is astounding for the simple reason that Nirvana is a legendary band in death metal; their name is dropped constantly as being an enormous influence on bands around the world. To see them, and Necrophobic, at this year's festival was definitely an added bonus.

New Orleans-based sludge legends Eyehategod played a killer set in the middle of the afternoon in what must have easily been temperatures approaching one hundred degrees Fahrenheit, given the humidity. Despite or perhaps even aided by the hellish weather, Eyehategod were fantastic.

Virginia-based doom band Pentagram has been around in one form or another since the early 1970s, and one can definitely hear it in their sound: they are most certainly the contemporaries of Ozzy-era Black Sabbath. They were phenomenal, of course.

As I already spoke briefly of Entombed and Obituary alongside Autopsy, I will say no more except to repeat that these legendary death metal pioneers were excellent.

Nearing the end of the third day, Capitalist Casualties were the penultimate performers of the festival. Though labeled as hardcore punk or "power violence," the band bears some apparent influence from grindcore. Regardless of labels, Capitalist Casualties were, again, superb. Each of their songs barely broke the one-minute mark, if at all, and they played in such a rapid-fire succession that guitarist Mike had only enough time to spit out the title of each song before the band launched into their next aural assault. And despite the remark by Fang vocalist Sam that Capitalist Casualties' vocalist, Shawn, had apparently just gotten out of the hospital, recovering from some unnamed malady, he didn't show any signs of illness as he threw himself all over the stage.

Finally, Seattle-based hardcore band From Ashes Rise were especially invited to the festival by founders Ryan and Evan, and after various circumstances prevailed they were given the honor of closing out the entire weekend. Once again, while rooted in hardcore, the band shares clear influences from other genres. But however they're labeled, From Ashes Rise completely tore the place apart; only a handful of other bands I saw throughout the entire festival, including Wolfbrigade, Portal, and another I'll mention here soon, were able to achieve a circle pit that equalled or exceeded the chaos during the set of From Ashes Rise. Not only that, but wave after wave of crowd-surfers continually flowed toward the stage, keeping the security busy. From Ashes Rise put on a phenomenal set and were definitely a great way to end the festival.

Of course, I could keep going on and on and on about these and the other bands, but there's just far too much to say. Aside from the noted exceptions, each and every one of the bands were phenomenal: some legends, others I would have first recognized only by name, some that were entirely unknown to me. But the great host of bands invited to Maryland Deathfest VIII, and the ravenous crowd flooding the street, definitely made this year's festival another great success.

Perhaps most remarkable of all is that Maryland Deathfest has grown into such a massive event and achieved such great success after beginning in only 2003. Founded by two metalheads who at the time were only in their early- or mid-20s, the Deathfest has grown in the subsequent years to such proportions that legendary bands like Obituary, Entombed, Nirvana, Autopsy, and many, many others think highly of coming to Baltimore for the occasion. Fans, like the bands, also come from all over the world to see the Maryland Deathfest; some individuals who I bumped into this weekend hailed from such places as Australia, Iceland, and France, nevermind many other countries. Maryland Deathfest has quickly risen to great heights of respect in the metal community, arguably surpassing even the massive Wacken Open-Air Festival, depending upon who one asks.

Part of this success is certainly due to the fantastic organization of the festival, discussed in part in this great interview with co-founder Ryan Taylor. And I'm not just talking about the bands brought in, or how they're staggered in their set times, or how the big name bands are staggered from one day to the next. Every detail of the festival is planned perfectly. Sonar is a great club for any concert to begin with, but MDF takes things a step further and obtains the necessary permits to close off the entire street in front of the club. Within the rented fencing lies two outdoor stages, a food vendor, beer vendors, and booths set up by record companies (especially Philly-based Relapse Records) and independent clothes companies. One could easily spend hundreds of dollars on shirts, CDs, and other merchandise at this festival, which strikes me almost more as a metalheads' convention insofar as one can freely walk from one booth to the next, or one stage to the next, as one pleases (provided, of course, that the enormous crowd isn't obstructing one's path). And as far as that goes: even though bands may play sets that coincide with each other, the location of the stages are such that there is no competition between bands for air molecules to vibrate.

That said, however, I do have two regrets stemming from this weekend, one minor and one major. My minor regret is that I didn't pick up all the t-shirts and CDs that I might have if I had more time to shop around; as I mentioned above, I do think I would have liked to have picked up a shirt from Rompeprop, for example.

More major, but also partly my own doing, is that I would have liked to have seen far more of each of these bands' sets. By virtue of the running order, I was able to the full set of approximately half, if not a little less. But as I specifically walked into this festival intending to see at least part of the set of each and every one of the fifty-eight bands who ultimately played, I had no choice but to limit my audience of some bands to perhaps fifteen minutes so I could "collect them all," as it were. And in some cases, I really, really, really wish that I had been able to stick around for a band's entire set.

For one prominent example, here I must speak at yet greater length about the one band from the festival to surprise me the most. The first time that I saw Converge live was last fall on the tour with High on Fire, Mastodon, and Dethklok. As you may well recall, I rather abhorred what I heard at that point. The songs were barely distinguishable from one another, and vocalist Jake Bannon was a complete mess, his vocals coming out over the speakers like unintelligible bursts of static. The band's performance last October was energetic and commendable, but I could make neither heads nor tails of their music.

When I learned that Converge were invited to Maryland Deathfest VIII, I scratched my head and uttered a low groan. Sure, I was going to make a point of watching at least part of their set just out of principle, but I honestly wasn't looking forward to it. At least they were scheduled to play on Sunday at the exact same time as Florida death metal legends Obituary, so I would have something to satisfy me after witnessing their material. I walked into the main room prior to their set expecting to absolutely hate it.

Well.

Color me surprised, but I really do have to offer my most sincere apologies to Jake Bannon and the rest of the band. Converge have earned themselves a new fan. I really can't say for sure what the difference is between their set last fall and their set last weekend, but it was enough of a difference that I ended up buying a copy of their breakthrough album, 2001's Jane Doe, before the night was out. Part of it, I think, is definitely the context of the band's performance: though the metalcore, or "mathcore," some may call it, of Converge is certainly not the death metal or grindcore that otherwise constituted much of the weekend, their extreme sound certainly is more at home among these bands than with the stoner metal of High on Fire, the progressive sludge metal of Mastodon, or the stylized death metal of Dethklok.

Beyond that, I really do think that the sound system at the Agri-Center last fall did the band no favors. How else to explain that Bannon's vocals sounded so drastically different than they did in New York, or that I was picking up grooves in the songs that I missed several months ago? Remember: I walked into this set biased against the band. And I ended up loving them.

And this is why I wish I had a chance to see more of each band: I expected to gladly walk out on Converge after a few minutes into the open grave of Obituary, but I found myself wishing that I could have stayed to hear more of the band's set after all. Like select other bands in this weekend, Converge in particular lit the room on fire, opening a circle pit that dominatd the entire floor. As before, the band was all over the stage, putting on a highly energetic performance, Jake Bannon in particular; the band punched the beach balls back into the audience like they were assaulting a heckler, and Bannon jumped onto the floor to get up close and personal with the crowd at the front of the room as drummer Ben Koller wailed away like lightning on the kit. Converge put on a great, great set.

And I wish I could have seen more.

Alas.

I'm sure I could easily go on (and on, and on, and on) about the festival in general and the bands and other details specifically. What it all comes down to, though, is that Maryland Deathfest VIII was an amazing experience. Absolutely. Incredible.

The rest of the weekend - my first experience with Greyhound, walking to the Inner Harbor, dinner, Maryland crab cakes, the National Aquarium, the hotel, etc. etc. - was of course excellent, but it all pales in comparison to the festival. This is something I'll never forget, easily a new high watermark for concerts.

Last but not least, you may have noticed that many of the links in my post above were to pictures from the festival. Here is the compendium of all these pictures, and so many more where those came from - hundreds upon hundreds - organized by day of the festival (including the pre-fest party on Thursday, 27 May, which I did not attend) and by band. Check them out - they're great pictures.

I'm already considering my return next year.

I'm very much a fan of the Mel Brooks film, but I've always thought that one of the flaws with Young Frankenstein The Motion Picture was its sluggish pacing. The deliberate movements and speech of characters are all too often drug out far longer than I think would be sensible for comedic timing, such as the creeping pace that Dr. Frankenstein and Inga take as they investigate the origin of the music behind the bookcase, or the overly exaggerated interchange between Frau Blücher and Dr. Frankenstein as he peruses his grandfather's books. Such flaws can kill a film; I think that Sergio Leone's Once Upon a Time in the West is an unwatchable bore for precisely this reason.

When I learned, therefore, that Young Frankenstein The Musical would be enjoying a run at the Benedum Center this past week, my interest was piqued at least insofar as I thought that a stage musical could easily improve on that great flaw of the otherwise great film. At first I did not intend to go, but I find it hard to pass up a good opportunity such as this. Last night, then, entering with mixed expectations, I did attend the evening performance of Young Frankenstein.

The verdict: excellent.

Brooks' musical largely remains faithful to the screenplay co-written with Gene Wilder. The principle differences between the film and the musical are of course the songs; where the stage version otherwise deviates from the film consists only of minor changes that simplify the adaptation to the stage. For example, in the beginning of the film, Dr. Frankenstein demonstrates the difference between voluntary and involuntary reflexes with a random volunteer plucked from the hospital; in the musical, Dr. Frankenstein "volunteers" the pesty student who continually prods him about his grandfather's work. Likewise, at the end of the film, the Monster reveals his latent humanity in the depths of Frankenstein's lab, while in the stage musical he confronts the townspeople at what is supposed to be Frankenstein's public execution.

All the critical points from the film remain intact, from the professor's introduction to Igor to the effect of the brain transferrence on Dr. Frankenstein and everything in between. Through it all, the musical is considerably more risque than the film: Elizabeth's farewell song before Frederick sets sail becomes rather provocative, as does Inga's roll in the hay, and Dr. Frankenstein lets loose a couple "fuck's" with perfect comedic timing.

Also receiving an upgrade from the film, as is to be expected, is the classic duet between Dr. Frankenstein and The Monster, "Puttin' on the Ritz." Naturally, this is by far the biggest song and dance number in the production, and it is simply fantastic; the synchronized tap-dance of the ensemble was especially notable.

Incidentally, "Puttin' on the Ritz" also marks one of the few points in the stage production that I think could have been handled much better. The entirety of the musical makes extensive use of strobe lights, often to create the effect of lightning. They are used likewise during "Puttin' on the Ritz" to cast the dancing ensemble in shadow, which worked very well. The problem is that after the song was complete, the strobes suddenly startled The Monster, provoking him to abduct Elizabeth and run wild once more. The film makes it very clear that what set the Monster on edge at this point were the phosphorous flashes of the photographers in the theater; however, if anyone in the musical's audience were not familiar with the film, it would have appeared that the Monster went on a rampage at random and without provocation. And what makes this somewhat irritating is that the solution is obvious: all that would have been required would be for three or four of the ensemble to appear onstage bearing cameras and costumes appropriate to members of the press.

The other part of the story that I feel suffers in the stage production is the game of charades that Dr. Frankenstein frantically plays with Igor, Inga, and Frau Blücher when the Monster first awakens. The problem is simple and the solution is readily apparent: this scene was rushed in the stage production such that the nature of Frankenstein's gesticulations and his assistants' yelling became a garbled malaise above which only a few key words of the exchange could be understood. Once again, if members of the audience were not familiar with the film, I'm not so sure that it would have been clear what was happening onstage.

Regardless of these couple flaws, however, Young Frankenstein The Musical is simply wonderful. Performer James Gray, in the role of Igor, was especially notable in his versatile performance that required a great deal of movement in the specific gait the hunchback exhibits. It goes without saying, though, that the entire cast was marvelous.

And, yes, the issue of the film's often sluggish timing was remedied in the live performance.

Put simply: if you have the chance to see Young Frankenstein live, I highly recommend it.

Last fall I attended my first concert at Mr. Small's without knowing anything beforehand about Eagle Twin or headliners Sunn O))) save for their reputation. I was not disappointed.

Sadly, heretofore I have likewise had no prior experience with Swedish death metal legends Amon Amarth, but the band's reputation precedes them. Having embarked on a stretch of North American tour dates this April, I knew I couldn't miss them when they came to Mr. Small's this past Wednesday, the twenty-eighth.

The evening began at 8pm with a thirty-minute set from Los Angeles-based newcomers Holy Grail. The band is a little rough around the edges, but they only formed in 2008 and in the subsequent two years have already been signed to the reasonably well-respected Prosthetic Records, released a well-received debut EP, and are set to release their first full-length later this year.

Holy Grail tread similar ground as their tourmates in terms of their lyrics, boasting fantastic tales of glorious battle focusing on Norse lore and mythology. Musically, however, Holy Grail are very much "traditional heavy metal," recalling the likes of Judas Priest, Iron Maiden, Iced Earth, and early Pantera. At times they also recall the melodic thrash-lite of Trivium, but are more strongly rooted in classic speed metal; and at times also the extreme power metal of Dragonforce is called to mind, except without the pretentious musical wankery.

Holy Grail's live performance is tight and focused; the harmonized leads of guitarists Eli Santana and James LaRue particularly stand out. Meanwhile, vocalist James Paul Luna wields a set of pipes adequate to the young band's less polished sound. His style came off as a mix between Manowar's Eric Adams, Tim "Ripper" Owens (formerly of Judas Priest and Iced Earth, among other projects), and Cowboys from Hell-era Phil Anselmo. He's not able to cleanly hit the high notes, but at this point in the band's life, I think that's perfectly acceptable.

Usually opening acts have to put in extra effort to earn the approval of their audience, but on this night Holy Grail excelled in their set and quickly found acceptance from the packed room. I have high hopes for these guys.

After a short ten-minute interlude, respected Viking metallers Tyr took the stage next for a healthy forty-five minutes. Hailing from the little-known Faroe Islands, Tyr's style is immediately distinguishable from their tourmates'. Call it Viking metal - given the heavy emphasis on the appropriate imagery, it would fit. Call it folk metal - with music and lyrics often inspired by traditional folk songs of the Faroe Islands or of other Scandinavian peoples, not to mention the anthemic gang-vocals of all four members, it most definitely is appropriate. Or given the band's often fanciful musical inclinations, call it progressive metal. However one wishes to label Tyr, they're bloody phenomenal.

I had not heard any of the band's material previously, but I knew of them by reputation. As soon as Tyr opened their set with the folk-inspired vocal harmonies of "Tróndur í Gøtu," I knew I had not been led astray as a wide grin creeped across my face that I could not suppress. Tyr's music is as heavy and brutal as one could hope, but it's also plainly fun - and given the cheerful exuberance exhibited in the near-constant grin of bassist Gunnar H. Thomsen, the band knows it.

Putting on a stellar performance every bit on par with their reputation and the rest of the evening, Tyr shot through a set representing each of their albums but focusing on their most recent release, 2009's By the Light of the Northern Star. The set includedthe aforementioned "Tróndur í Gøtu," "Hold the Heathen Hammer High," "Northern Gate," "By the Sword in My Hand," among other great cuts.

And of course, I knew as soon as the band started playing that I had to secure some of their merchandise.

At last, then, it was time for the legendary Amon Amarth. The crowd was ravenous and the pit frenzied before they took the stage, but the room exploded when the quintet finally came on. Quite frankly, their lauded reputation does not do them justice. If this band existed in the Metalocalypse universe, the fictional Dethklok would be worshipping at the altar of Amon Amarth.

That last sentence is necessary to give perspective on how important the group is as a flagship of Swedish death metal, but it's also a fair indicator to the uninitiated of where the band's sound lies; Brendon Small's compositions bear clear influence from Amon Amarth and their contemporaries. The key difference, of course, is that this is both literally and figuratively "the real thing."

Once again, the set in this instance covered the band's entire career so far. Highlights included, and were most certainly not limited to, "Live for the Kill," "Twilight of the Thunder God" (the title track of the band's 2009 album), "Guardians of Asgaard," "Cry of the Blackbirds," "Valkyries Ride," "Death in Fire," and "The Pursuit of Vikings." Throughout the ninety-minute set each and every member was at the top of his art, entrancing the audience with every note, but I must make special note of vocalist Johan Hegg. Muscled, heavily bearded, and towering at well over six feet tall, he has the appearance of a true Viking warrior displaced in time, and his monstrous voice matches his stature. Amon Amarth as a whole commanded the great respect and rapt attention of the audience, but with a word Hegg could well have invoked the crowd to burn and pillage the city.

This was a damn fine concert.

Before this year my only experience with ballet was with a California production of The Nutcracker in Uniontown in December 2006. And, a fine show though it is, I think of The Nutcracker less as a ballet and more of a Christmas tradition: the production focuses so much on the costumes and story that it feels, at least to me, less a ballet and more a play.

My first piecemeal introduction to Swan Lake, meanwhile, was with the heavy references to it in the great 2000 film Billy Elliot. Thereafter, I also had an opportunity to buy a three-disc recording of the music, with which I quickly fell in love.

Along came the year 2009 and my headfirst immersion with the increasing number of as many events as I could attend. Searching the calendar for the Pittsburgh Cultural Trust revealed a spring 2010 production of Swan Lake at the Benedum Center. Given my love of the music, if ever I was going to see the ballet, this was a great chance to do just that.

Yesterday afternoon, then, was our chance to see Swan Lake. Our seats were some of the best in the theater - only five rows back from the orchestra pit, albeit to the far right of the stage. Being so far to the right did limit our perspective somewhat - we couldn't see the very edge of the stage - but as all the action took place in the center, of course, it wasn't that big a deal. And in any case, the next time I see a ballet, I'm definitely going for seats equally close to the stage: our vantage point was such that the stage was pretty much at eye level, and we got to see every little detail of the dancers' extraordinary footwork.

That having been said: the requisite stamina, balance, poise, and all around athleticism and grace of all the dancers was mind-blowing. Whether dancing en pointe or leaping through the air, it was simply astounding to see such great physical and artistic skill at work. Moreover, the dancer portraying Odette, the Swan Queen, was nothing less than mesmerizing in her complex performance; her execution of the thirty-two fouettes of the role was outright breath-taking.

As an added bonus, the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra was on hand, conducted by one Charles Barker, to play the wonderful music of the two-hour ballet. Clearly, I'm predisposed to liking the music - I own an album of it, after all - but nonetheless, every slightest detail of the music was performed with great flourish.

Overall, it goes without saying that Swan Lake was absolutely wonderful. I am truly glad to have had the chance to see it, and I do not intend that this will be the first and last time.

I recall quite clearly the first time I had the opportunity to see Henry Rollins speak. I was a freshman at Cal in the fall of 2004 when he was brought on campus as part of his speaking tour at that time. But instead of seeing Rollins, I decided it was more prudent to go to class.

Goddamnit.

Fast-forward five years. By the power of Twitter and Theater Hopper creator Tom Brazelton, I learned that Rollins was embarking on another extensive speaking tour - including a date in Pittsburgh on 31 March.

Pittsburgh's New Hazlett Theater is located in Allegheny Center and features hideously inadequate parking (on the street if you can find it; no public parking garage within the square). The theater itself, though, is actually pretty nice. The building has an austere dignity from the outside; the inside is newly renovated within the past few years, and the stage itself is set in a black box theater, with seating also available in tiers above the floor.

Henry Rollins first rose to fame in the burgeoning punk rock scene of the late '70s and early '80s, gaining especial notoriety for his own aggressive tendencies within the framework of controversial hardcore pioneers Black Flag. After that band fell apart, he proceeded to record music as a solo artist beginning in the early '90s, at this point already beginning as well to make a name for himself as a spoken word artist. In due course, he would have turns as an actor in film and on television, tours with the USO, and with political activism. More recently, he has all but abandoned musical pursuits - his last solo album, Nice, was released in 2001 - in favor of the occasional acting work (such as in the second season of Sons of Anarchy) and especially his successful career as a spoken word artist.

Bearing a silver mane at the age of forty-nine, Rollins has also mellowed with age, but whether he speaks, in turn, more as an activist or as a raconteur, always is his talk rife with both uproarious comedy and biting social commentary. Moreover, as his focus turns to these speaking engagements, one can tell that he has polished his art such that his almost literally breathless enthusiasm and vigor has the entire audience listening attentively and sitting on the edge of their seats. And unless he does so for dramatic effect, not once does he pause during his set, not even when he abruptly throws his voice in mimicry of someone else.

Rollins is almost visibly extemporaneous in his delivery, beginning the evening with some thoughts on recent events in the news (the cancelled prom in the uncivilized, primitive backwaters of Mississippi - my words, not his; the rejection of a student from a Catholic school in Colorado because the young child's parents are lesbians) before continuing on to more general social commentary and segueing seamlessly into various anecdotes.

Henry Rollins very clearly leans to the left in his philosophies - more precisely recalling the idealist, utopian progressivism of Star Trek cannon rather than mainstream "liberalism," much to my pleasure. Yet with few exceptions, he keeps his live performance largely apolitical. At first it seemed a flaw to check the outspoken aggression, the likes of for which he was once known, but upon further reflection it only bolsters his performance and his philosophy. In speaking of the Tea Parties, he expressed less concern with the anger and frustration behind the movement - he sees it as democracy in action - than with the vitriolic and unfocused rage that has manifested as jingoistic nationalism, racism, homophobia, and a complete neglect or outright ignorance of what it is the Tea Partiers are supposed to be protesting in the first place.

Likewise, even when speaking for gay rights, the lack of which is one of his greatest pet peeves, Rollins is able to adeptly avoid direct attacks on the Vatican (though he did marvel at how "Catholicism, Inc." was so definitively opposed to homosexuality while being very unresponsive and evasive when it comes to pedophilia). He has no love for the likes of Ann Coulter, Rush Limbaugh, or Pat Robertson, but more than the flaws in their thinking, Rollins lambasted their derisive meanness and undignified hate. He's no fan of George W. Bush, but he spent less time on his politics than on his tenuous grasp of the English language ("he really did give it a real good try").

The content of Rollins' talk this night ranged from the above to his friendship with the members of influential hardcore group Bad Brains. No stone was left unturned as he discussed the Alien and Sedition Acts of John Adams' presidency and the man imprisoned for wishing Adams "peace and retirement"; the perpetually changing tint of Ohio Congressman John Boehner (who apparently cannot distinguish between the Declaration of Independence and the U.S. Constitution); his trip to the most top secret areas of the National Archives with fellow punk royalty Ian MacKaye; his frustration with the deterioration of the English language (not least of all at the hands of texting); and his fascination with the 2008 election cycle, among many, many other things.

As his monologue turned from politics to anecdotes, Rollins told great stories that largely took place just in the past year or so: introducing youths in Sri Lanka to The Stooges; seeing his life flash before his eyes as he rode through packed city streets in a Hamann Volcano with the son of a Saudi billionaire (out of twenty Volcanoes produced, this hyper-wealthy chap had #3); flipping off one of the military despots controlling Burma; enduring the taxi ride from hell in Beijing as the driver blasted remixes of Europe's "Final Countdown" and tried to offer a drive-by tour; attending a music festival in the scorched sands of Timbuktu; guesting as a judge on an episode of RuPaul's "Drag Race"; unnecessarily destroying his body during stunts in the production of Sons of Anarchy, season two; the least vulgar discussion of masturbation I've ever witnessed; giving a hastily prepared commencement speech at a California university; and joining the family of William Shatner for Thanksgiving dinner - among many, many other things.

Unrelated though many of his stories were to each other and to the heftier topics he touched upon when the evening first began, he brought it all together at the very end. Discussing his time on RuPaul's show, or meeting the junta of Burma, or enjoying the hospitality of impossibly wealthy Saudi dignitaries, he reflected further upon points that he raised earlier concerning LGBT rights, the significance of the freedoms established in the U.S. Constitution, and the importance of embracing other cultures ("it's not as easy to kill people when you've met their children"). For, all the levity of the evening aside, Rollins is a gifted speaker who had some important ideas to convey. Instead of having lavish feasts prepared daily in every room of every mansion on a vast estate for guests that may never come, why couldn't the Saudi billionaire feed the world? Instead of pouring so much of the national budget into wars, why couldn't we turn our attention to education and turn today's children into intellectual geniuses of tomorrow that can solve the problems of the world without violence? At length, why couldn't we seize the opportunity promised by the new millennium and move beyond the racism, the homophobia, the senseless wars, and the want and hunger and environmental destruction that were so rampant in the twentieth century and earlier?

Henry Rollins is a phenomenal and inspiring speaker; I was unsure of what to expect going into this evening, but his talk was well worth the price of admission. I say this not least of all because without taking a single sip of water - indeed, without hardly taking the slightest of breaths - Rollins spoke continuously for three straight hours. While in hindsight there were some additional topics that I think he could have or perhaps should have discussed, these three hours flew by so quickly that I don't think I could reasonably ask for more. Given the raucous response of the audience at the very end, I think everyone else agrees.

I may have missed out on seeing Henry Rollins previously, but never will I be so negligent again. I would highly recommend that anyone who has the chance to see Rollins speak, does so.

Make no mistake: March has been awesome.

Classical music, like anime and foreign films, is a genre that I enjoy but in which I cannot muster the will to greatly indulge. There's too much of it out there for me to even know where to begin - so I stick with the essential classics, generally, and perhaps the bits and pieces that come to my attention in one way or another.

This past weekend the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra hosted three performances of Gustav Holst's famous Planets suite. I had the fortune of securing damn good seats for the Sunday matinee.

The event began with a performance of Hector Berlioz's Harold in Italy. I cannot claim to be in the least familiar with either the composer or the suite, but it was an excellent opening. Well-traveled viola extraordinaire Randolph Kelly performed the requisite solo, and he was, of course, fantastic.

After a brief intermission, the second half of the show began with a powerful rendition of the majestic and imposing "Mars, Bringer of War." I am sad to say, in fact, that this has long been the only segment of The Planets with which I could claim any familiarity... And this, because rising death metal phenomenon Nile co-opted the piece for an introduction to a song on their debut album.

Regardless, "Mars," and all the other great components of the suite, were performed superbly, each instrument as clear as day and evoking the intended atmosphere. I would venture to say that The Planets suite is one of the essential classics of classical music is necessary for any collection. Great though any recording may be, to see the seven pieces performed live was nothing less than magnificent.

Brilliant though the sympony's performance may have been, however, I must also make special note of the established French conductor Yan Pascal Tortelier who directed the music this day. His wild and boisterous yet measured gesticulations throughout both suites upended any expectations I have long yielded about conducting, and often throughout the performance I found myself watching him work his art.

But the best part? He conducted with great flourish the entirety of The Planets without using a score.

This year marks the twentieth anniversary of the release of Megadeth's most celebrated landmark release, Rust in Peace. In recognition of the occasion, the band has set aside the month of March for an anniversary tour in which the centerpiece of their setlist includes Rust in Peace in its entirety.

And last night, they came to Greensburg.

This is the first time that I've been to the Palace Theatre, and after yesterday I suspect it will not be the last. Originally opening in 1926 as the Manos Theatre, the Palace has undergone many renovations to update its facilities over the years, and it is by all means a great venue for pretty much any type of event. It's comparable in size the Byham Theater in Pittsburgh, if not a tad smaller. In any case, if I have any complaints about the Palace itself it's that the seats are squeezed so tightly together as to be a bit uncomfortable.

But at least I had a seat at all. Less than one week after tickets went on sale 29 January, the 1,369-capacity venue had sold out. Yet I had bought my ticket online within about fifteen minutes of when they became available... and probably thanks to my rabidly obsessive behavior, I managed to snag a seat only about ten feet from the stage.

As one might imagine, this offered a great vantage point. But more than that: I was also only about ten feet away from the speakers. Make no mistake, the noise was deafening - but throughout the evening, and especially during Testament's set, the sound coming out of the speakers was so immensely powerful that for all the vibrations, it felt like I was sitting in front of an air vent.

But I digress. It all began with Black Sabbath in 1970. Yet while heavy metal found its feet in the following decade, with many historically significant and influential bands finding fame in that time, it wasn't until the early '80s that metal really began to mature and develop its own sound(s). It was at this time that the world was greeted by thrash. Popularized by the "big four" titans of metal that put thrash on the map - Metallica, Megadeth, Slayer, and Anthrax - there was such a proliferation of thrash bands throughout the '80s that many quickly scattered to the wind, never to be heard again. Still, while no other bands were able to achieve the same astronomical success of the Big Four, several maintained reputations among the underground at least as lauded as their more famous contemporaries.

Among these was Exodus, who were actually among the first thrash bands on the scene, forming in 1980. Opening the festivities this night promptly at 7pm, Exodus is a band that I still have not quite gotten around to checking into a great deal. But their status is legendary, and they put forth a performance worthy of their name. The only remaining founding member is drummer Tom Hunting, but despite a consistently inconsistent roster, the band has remained true to form throughout these thirty years. This night they tore through a set comprised chiefly of older material including the title track of landmark Bonded by Blood, "A Lesson in Violence," "Piranha," and "War is my Shepherd," among others. The tempo was blazing, the music was rough, and their satisfying forty-five minute set seemed far too short.

Perhaps even more well known than Exodus are Testament, who, having formed in 1986, were a little late to the scene by comparison. In Testament's case, as well, the line-up has changed greatly throughout the years, though legendary vocalist Chuck Billy and rhythm guitarist Eric Peterson have been with the group since its inception. It just so happens that at this point in time, four-fifths of the original roster are reunited: original bassist Greg Christian is back, as is shredding legend Alex Skolnick; only drummer Louie Clemente remains tied to other projects - though in his place, Billy and Peterson have found a great replacement in Paul Bostaph, who has logged time with Slayer, among other bands. It also just so happens, however, that with the Alex Skolnick Trio touring with Rodrigo y Gabriela this month, the man himself is not available for the Rust in Peace tour. Filling in for him is Glen Drover, who has prior experience with Testament, Megadeth, and King Diamond, and who performed admirably this night.

Mirroring the intentions of headliners Megadeth, Testament's set this night consisted almost solely of their 1987 debut, The Legacy. While I have had the chance to add several Testament albums to my collection over the past several years, The Legacy is sadly missing, but this is to be corrected soon. The band's sound has evolved greatly since these songs were first committed to tape, including no small influence from death metal, but these are killer cuts that haven't aged in the least. "Raging Waters," "Burnt Offerings," "Apocalyptic City," and all the others - classics, and that's all there is to it. Only one or two songs from The Legacy were dropped for the set this evening, though in their place was the essential "Into the Pit" from the band's second release, 1988's The New Order.

It goes without saying that everyone was in fine form this evening, though I have to make special note of the performances offered up by Paul Bostaph, who slayed (sorry) the kit this night, and by Chuck Billy. Billy has come back stronger than ever after battling cancer several years ago, and his voice hasn't lost any of its power. He stalked the stage like a giant lording over his territory, his mighty bellow energizing the crowd. Testament, like Exodus, were onstage for a healthy forty-five or fifty minutes, but again their set seemed far too short.

At last, then, it was time for Megadeth.

The story is probably familiar even to those who don't listen to metal: guitarist Dave Mustaine, alongside James Hetfield and Lars Ulrich, was part of Metallica almost from the very moment the band was born. Some of the songs on Metallica's debut, Kill 'Em All, are even partially credited to Mustaine. Months after he joined, however, Mustaine was summarily dismissed from the band without any apologies, with former Exodus guitarist Kirk Hammett taking his place. After being booted from Metallica, Mustaine quickly put together his own band: Megadeth.

To hear Hetfield and Ulrich's version, Mustaine was kicked out of Metallica because he was "an angry drunk." Whatever the impetus, it would serve as the basis of a long-running and very public feud between the two bands for most of the past thirty years, a grudge that probably has not been helped by Metallica's greater (and also more controversial) fame and success.

Whatever the story is behind Mustaine's expulsion, his behavior in subsequent years did little to gain him any sympathy. One could almost play "six degrees of separation" in the metal world by linking bands or metal musicians with whom Mustaine has had bitter feuds. Whatever substance there is to the arguments on either side, one cannot ignore the bald pettiness of things like Mustaine, a "born-again Christian" as of 2004, kicking Greek band Rotting Christ off the bill of festivals because he found them offensive.

Still, the extensive history behind Megadeth is beside the point. Dave Mustaine is a bit of a pariah in the metal world, but there's no denying that he's one hell of a songwriter and guitarist.

Mustaine was joined onstage this night by original bassist Dave Ellefson, who rejoined the band only a few weeks ago to much acclaim after several years in other projects; drummer Shawn Drover, a member since 2004, who has proven himself worthy of the Megadeth name; and guitarist Chris Broderick, an impressive shredder who has previously logged time with progressive/power metal outfits Nevermore and Jag Panzer.

Megadeth's set this evening included songs from their entire career, including and not limited to the title track of 1986's sophomore release, Peace sells... but who's buying?, the well-known "Symphony of Destruction" (Countdown to Extinction), and "Head Crusher" (from the band's much-lauded 2009 album Endgame).

Slightly out of place in this half of the band's set was "Trust," perhaps the best song (the only good song?) from 1997's Cryptic Writings. If Metallica were experiencing a songwriting meltdown in the mid- to late-'90s and early '00s (the Load discs and St. Anger), the same is largely true of Megadeth, whose material from this period has been widely criticized for lacking the originality, the fire, and the otherwise vitality of their other material. I like "Trust," but it's so slow and tempered in comparison to the band's other works that it did not really belong in the house this night.

Of course, the centerpiece of Megadeth's set - of the entire evening - and the reason everyone had come was to hear Rust in Peace, almost indisputably the band's masterpiece and their greatest contribution to the genre. Much like Metallica last fall, Megadeth burned through these nine songs with greater speed and fury than even on the record. And for songs like the solo-heavy classic "Hangar 18," which is already played at a steady clip, for it to be pulled off even faster live, with every note and drumbeat intact, was damn impressive to see.

Even the couple of tracks on the record that, great though they are, pale in comparison to the other monsters ("Five Magics," "Poison was the cure"), translated into enormous success in the live performance. Each and every member of the band was smoking (so to speak). But while I don't mean to impugn the skills of Drover or Broderick - for indeed they were fantastic - I nonetheless have to again make special note firstly of Ellefson, whose highly-praised return to Megadeth is by all means deserved, and secondly, of course, of Mustaine. For all the shit that he's been through, and for all the shit that he deserves - he's a bloody great guitarist. That's all there is to it.

The roar of the crowd refused to die especially during Megadeth's set, and everyone sang along so boisterously that I could even hear the audience despite being so near the speaker. When at length Megadeth's almost ninety-minute set concluded with a reprise of "Holy Wars... The Punishment Due," the atmosphere in the theatre was nothing short of electric.

Alas, all good things must come to an end.

Minor though they were, there were but a couple flaws to the evening. First, the sound was almost perfect throughout each band's set. But I say "almost" perfect because in each instance, the mix was ever-so-slightly off. For both Exodus and Testament, the leads of each guitarist seemed buried in comparison. And in Megadeth's case, Mustaine's microphone was turned so low that his vocals were sometimes barely distinguishable above the guitars, bass, and drums.

Second: the seats. The bloody seats. This was a thrash metal show at which it was not possible to form a mosh pit because of the unmovable seats in the theater. It was so restrictive as to feel claustrophobic.

Again, though, these were ultimately very minor points of concern; the evening did not suffer because of it.

A few other interesting bits from the evening:

The public parking garage less than one block down the street from the Palace Theatre is only $2.00.

Wear a shirt to get a reaction, and you will. (Hi, Val!)

Also, I was delighted to see several pre-teen children at this show. There's no better way to introduce the young'ins to metal than with the classics. Furthermore, let this be a lesson: if you want to give your kids the best possible concert experience, buy front-row seats, and the legends on the stage will cater to the tykes with guitar picks, drum sticks, and set lists, and maybe even a chance to join them onstage. (Nice one, Exodus!)

Make no mistake: everyone who made it to this sold-out show knew that this was royalty in the house. And it was by all means a night on which each band's credentials were proven, and then some. This was nothing less than spectacular.

While I almost certainly would have come across them in due course one way or another, my introduction to acoustic guitar duo Rodrigo y Gabriela was entirely incidental. Browsing the headlines of BBC News one day in March 2007, I found a small write-up about an internationally-acclaimed guitarist who was unable to renew his work visa and who therefore had to cancel or postpone part of a tour through the United States.

My interest was piqued, and I looked into what Rodrigo Sanchez and Gabriela Quintero were all about. I never quite got around to picking up their self-titled 2006 album, but it stayed on my list of titles to buy.

In September 2009 Rodrigo y Gabriela released their latest masterpiece, 11:11, comprised of eleven original songs dedicated to artists that inspired the pair. Again: onto the backburner, but I kept the title in mind.

This January, then, they announced a series of North American tour dates as part of their world tour in support of 11:11, and the Pittsburgh Cultural Trust and Opus One Productions had the foresight and wisdom to book them for the Byham Theater on 2 March. After all that I'd heard about these virtuosos, there was no way that I was missing this.

Rodrigo y Gabriela are joined on their North American tour dates by the Alex Skolnick Trio, who opened the evening promptly at 8:00pm. Best known for his work with American thrash metal giant Testament, Skolnick is a legend among legends of metal guitarists. Over the years he has also logged time with bands and projects including Savatage and the Trans-Siberian Orchestra. In contrast to his other pursuits, the Alex Skolnick trio is a jazz group whose catalogue includes both jazz renditions of rock and metal classics as well as original material. By all means Skolnick takes center-stage in each number, but the music would be nothing without the more than capable talents of the rhythm section of Pittsburghers Nathan Peck and Matt Zebroski (upright bass and percussion, respectively), and both also had their time to shine on this night.

The trio blistered through a quick thirty-five minute set including renditions of "Detroit Rock City" (Kiss) and "Electric Eye" (Judas Priest); in both instances, as I suspect is likely the case for other material that the trio reimagines, the primary musical themes are left intact, but after that, anything goes. The band also played original pieces "Transformation," "Last Day in Paradise," and "Western Sabbath Stomp," the latter of which very clearly bears musical inspiration from early (Ozzy-era) Black Sabbath to great effect.

After a short ten- or fifteen-minute break, Rodrigo y Gabriela took the stage to thunderous applause.

The focus of the set this evening was, of course, 11:11, but they also played several other songs from their previous albums as well as some new material they're "practicing." All but one of the songs from 11:11 made it into the set, and they also played an abbreviated version of their rendition of Metallica's instrumental "Orion" (from Master of Puppets originally, and featured on the duo's self-titled breakthrough). A handful of the pieces, like the title track of 11:11, were slower and more atmospheric, but most of Rodrigo y Gabriela's material maintains a quick tempo that leaves no room for error.

Neither musician is a flamenco artist; as Rodrigo noted during a quick breather after the first few songs, anyone in the audience who came expecting to hear flamenco was bound to be disappointed. Rather, Rodrigo y Gabriela's roots lie firmly in heavy metal. In fact, both were members of thrash metal bands in their native Mexico City before they relocated to Dublin to try their hand in a new town at the acoustic guitar, whereafter they quickly rose to great acclaim both in Ireland and around the world.

And while their music does not carry the same classical tones or intangibly exotic airs of that vaunted art of flamenco, this is not a mark either for or against the team but merely a statement of how they differ from their contemporaries and indeed their influences. Rodrigo y Gabriela possess a fire all their own, and their speed, dexterity, emotional expression, and otherwise skill is every bit as invigorating, exhilirating, and chilling as one could ever hope to witness.

For that matter, it's not just a question of strumming the guitar. To see their fingers flying over the strings is one thing. Beyond this, Gabriela (who often plays the rhythm to Rodrigo's lead) also makes use of the unbelievably fast percussive rapping of fingers and knuckles against the body of the guitar, adding a tom-tom-like element to the songs and opening the music even further, and this, too, is a wonder to behold; I could only dream of having even one-tenth of their incredible dexterity and nimbleness. Furthermore, simply by virtue of vibrating the strings a certain way, Rodrigo y Gabriela are able to elicit sounds out of their instruments that I didn't know was even possible for an acoustic guitar; passages on 11:11 that I thought for sure had to be a rare instance of an electric guitar are revealed in the mystical live performance to be just another trick of the trade.

These great skills are put to such use in the songs that Rodrigo y Gabriela write or arrange that their heavy metal roots are plainly evident alongside the influences of other guitarists and musicians that inspired them. Still, it's not just the music: the very style in which Sanchez and Quintero play, as seen live, bears a tangible ferocity and energy that makes their shared origins even more apparent. They attack their instruments with such electricity that even the more relaxed, "feel-good" beats of the first few songs on 11:11, such as "Hanuman" and "Buster Voodoo" (also the first two songs of the set this evening) gain an even greater sense of desperate urgency and emotional intelligence when performed live.

Even when the music did slow down, the imposing energy in the theater did not diminish as we saw another side of the duo's skills. Again to use "11:11" as an example: this closing track from their 2009 album, like others in the set, benefitted from improvisation and embellishment that made the songs even more fantastic live, if that were possible. Inspired by and dedicated to Pink Floyd in the album's liner notes, Rodrigo made this piece uniquely memorable by playing while holding an empty glass bottle against the strings, creating distinct, high-pitched notes that recalled the opening of "Echoes" from Floyd's early masterpiece Meddle and which invoked the experimental genius of the Floyd's earliest psychedelic days with Syd Barrett.

Equal to the momentous energy with which Rodrigo y Gabriela left the audience was the rapport they built. After every few songs, Sanchez and Quintero would rest their hands for a few minutes' time and pick up the microphones to tell stories or make various observations. Both are delightfully funny and candid as it is, but the contrast with both each other and their musical personas was outright hilarious to behold. Rodrigo, taking up the lead guitar, carries himself onstage with the confidence and bravado that one would expect of anyone in a similarly highlighted position, and creates the expectation that such is how he is generally. Yet when he got behind the microphone to say a few words, he was remarkably soft-spoken and polite, almost to the point of seeming shy. Gabriela, on the other hand, no matter how intense the music, wears a determined serenity and a serene determination while she plays, by all means seeming "the quiet one" of the two. With the microphone in her hand, though, she is so candid and naturally chatty that she let fly more than a handful of "fuck's" casually thrown into her dialogue.

Including the extended encore, Rodrigo y Gabriela were on stage for a little less than two full hours. From the time that they first took the stage to Tool's "The Pot" to when the house lights finally came back on to the sound of AC/DC's "For Those About to Rock," the entire theater was roaring with such a reception as previously given to The Decemberists or to Metallica. This is the first time that the duo have played in Pittsburgh. I think, after this night, the city will clamor for their return, and no doubt they will happily oblige.

And make no mistake: when next Rodrigo y Gabriela come around, I'll be going.