12/18/14
I hadn't been to a metal show in probably 5+ years when I saw Carcass play in Grand Rapids, MI in November (the 11th, specifically). In my younger days, going to metal shows was a frequent and regular occurrence. I went with friends like my buddy Kyle to venues both rooted in the past and present. I'll send this along to my buddy Will, a guy I met through the internet's channels for this kind of music some 15+ years ago. There's a lot of ticket stubs, t-shirts, CDs, promos, cassettes, the whole business, most of it sitting collecting dust in the basement of my home. While I knew that being a "heavy metal fan" wasn't something I personally identified as or sought to make a core part of my personality, it was always a latent thing sitting back there in the recesses of my mind. But I had a night shift job, and then I was driving a beater I didn't want to take everywhere because it wasn't very good, and then I just wasn't caring if I went to shows.
Back in May, Acid Mothers Temple announced they'd swing through Michigan. AMT isn't a metal band in the traditional sense, but what they do is certainly "heavy" at times and jet launch loud. They're a fucking awesome act and I owned a lot of their records, and this was an opportunity to see them in Kalamazoo. I did that, and while I only got 4 hours sleep and went to bed with tinnitus, I only regret having forgotten ear plugs. It was a sign to me - I was just lazy. I could do whatever I wanted, see whomever, because I had the fucking gig, a new car, and a fucking awesome life.
(The ringing did go away, in case you're wondering.)
Fall comes along and, hey, Carcass is going to play in GR? Well, shit. I never saw Carcass in their prime - they broke up and had given up doing US tours by the time my teenage self entered the scene back in '98-99 at the birth of metal's resurgence. I never expected to either. Their drummer had a stroke and he couldn't play. Without Ken Owen, Carcass staunchly refused to return to action for about a decade. Eventually the festival scene in Europe became lucrative enough for a band like Carcass that a reunion had to happen just to pay the bills for their members, and they've basically been together ever since, touring the US a couple times. But this was a rarity - a legendary band playing secondary markets like Grand Rapids and Madison never happens. And to be honest, I do check to see if shows are set to come to town, and they rarely go to Grand Rapids. Throw in Macabre as a support act, and I was sold.
The emotional hook wasn't that I felt that I had to see the show, but there was the feeling that I should see these bands. It was a calling from the recesses of my mind still wondering if there was a place for me in that world. Could I put down the fruits of my success and get back to basics? Could I feel like I was 18 again? There's the doubts too. Is Grand Rapids a tough scene with brawling straight edge types seeking to punch someone in the face just for living? Will there be no one? Will there be a packed house? Would either be OK for me? Will I communicate with anyone for my time there or just stand idly by, watching the bands in an asocial manner?
Having been a vet of many more shows than I could possibly, reasonably count, I felt confident I knew how things would go. The doors would open at 6:30PM, people would enter, mill about, possibly a half hour would pass and a shitty local band would take the stage, followed by tear down and the entrance of the opening act for the tour package somewhere around 7:30-8PM, which was Noisem. When I was young, I stood in line outside the venue, ticket grasped in my hands, chatting with the fellow metal heads around me about our excitement to see whoever the hell it was would be in the club that night. Was it a band we'd seen 20 times or never? These were the things we'd have playful banter about.
At 31, that desire for naive chatter has ended, and I instead chose to go to my mother-in-law's house and feed her cats and do their litter while she is away in New Zealand. I didn't want my wife to walk there in the pitch dark, for christ's sake. Dinner was consumed at the house before I left; a manly meal of left over pasta w/roasted eggplant I made two days before and a vegan bean salad I find quite crunchy and wonderful my wife concocted that morning. My choice to have two glasses of water led to me desiring a stop for a piss for almost the entire final 30 minutes of my drive. The option of pulling to the side and draining my lizard in the wooded areas and farmland surrounding I-96 sounded appealing on some desperate level, but I persevered. Is there anything more rock and roll than using the fucked up bathroom of a metal or punk night club? I'm sure Corporate Death from Macabre would be smoking mids in there, or perhaps a member of Exhumed doing a chick doggie style over the toilet, cocaine positioned on the tank, graffiti covering the walls.
Grand Rapids' has a couple different clubs which could possibly have metal shows, but generally don't. Located on the western side of the state, Grand Rapids is a more conservative kind of city than Detroit or Lansing. Does that play into the dearth of metal shows or bands in his part of the country. This show was held in one of the stages at the Intersection, which the internet tells me has a "sell-able capacity of 1800". That's a pretty big number for a tour like this in a market that doesn't get much traffic, and it showed. Carcass only sold a couple hundred tickets. It wouldn't be a show featuring Macabre in a prime support slot that I attend if I wasn't a significant percentage of the crowd. Parking is right across the street in a part of town that looks like it is heading for gentrification in a hurry. Or already there. I'll be back soon to see The Nutcracker, possibly in the same lot. Who am I to speak? I'm old. So old my first stop in the club was to the bathroom and piss. The restrooms were quite nice.
As I exited, I realized that Exhumed was on stage playing. This meant I missed Noisem, and I guess I should be upset about that. I still haven't heard them play weeks later and don't care to any real degree. Exhumed was audible for once, and they seem to have morphed into a gore-centric death metal band that is competent but not terribly interesting. They no longer have a chainsaw or breath fire, but some their bassist (who resembles wrestler Sean "X-Pac" Waltman now) did vomit for effect. I can't pretend to have really cared as I drank a $6.50 microbrew. In front of me, a pack of 6 teenagers feigned moshing and chatted between or during sets. A middle 20s white male wearing a wife beater tossed his 24 oz can of Bud Light into a trash can nearby. What am I doing here?
Macabre took forever to set up. When they did play, it was a start and stop set with something like 20 seconds spent between monologues by the singer/bassist and the songs actually beginning. In case you were wondering, if you play your songs for 30 years but you make practically no money, you're not really a pro. It's more like being a community theater actor. Mistakes will be made. Were they bad? Nah. But I felt like I'd rather be listening to the record. I was out of place; a fossil? An interloper? Both? But the men on stage were yet older. Is this where they find the drive to keep going? To wake up every morning and head to work?
Carcass headlined, and they had a whole video projection thing set up to look more professional. They played some classic tunes from when they were a grind band, some from when they had transitioned into being a pseudo-political melodic death metal band, and like three from their new record. I listened to Surgical Steel on Spotify, and nothing of it was retained. It was better as live material in the moment. Once it was clear that there wasn't really gonna be a serious pit, I moved up and enjoyed the show a couple people from the barrier. Some kids with long hair banged their heads. I could be concerned with authenticity and cultural appropriation. But, I realized is there anything going through that kid's head aside from gravitational force forcing the brain back and forth inside his skull? He's reacting to the music. No different than I did at 17. No different than some 17 year old did in 1988. No different than the 17 year old in 2026 will, if this whole metal thing is still around.
The music ended at 11:00 PM or so, and a video played. It was some sort of fake (or real?) 1980s workout video with topless women and terrible visual effects. I can't say this early end was a bad thing. I'm old, and I needed to work the next day. And the day after. And for many days going forward umpteen years into the future. I set the Bluetooth functionality in my car to stream music, and I blared something for most of the hour ride home. I know myself. It was probably some variation on the "hits" of Chiraq. Lil' Bibby more than likely or King Louie, as they tend to be more lyrical. This was a show of young people entertained by old people playing what was once young people's music. It felt strange. It wasn't an event I'd deem as pure nostalgia. Most were like me, I think. They had never seen Carcass before and odds were good they weren't to see them again.
For those fans, this is now their world. I'm merely a passive observer. Honestly, passive observers aren't welcome here, only active participants. Legends never slowly fade away, they only burn out in glorious pyre for all to see. My list of shows and venues I've been to and attended is irrelevant now, as there's no denim jacket loaded with retro-styled patches and hair hanging to my shoulders. My head does not bang and I promise near instant regret for anyone who wants to try it make it do so. When you arrive at that place mentally, it is time to let go. It is time for me to move on. The game is the game. The "scene" is the "scene." May long it live for whomever wants it.
Back in May, Acid Mothers Temple announced they'd swing through Michigan. AMT isn't a metal band in the traditional sense, but what they do is certainly "heavy" at times and jet launch loud. They're a fucking awesome act and I owned a lot of their records, and this was an opportunity to see them in Kalamazoo. I did that, and while I only got 4 hours sleep and went to bed with tinnitus, I only regret having forgotten ear plugs. It was a sign to me - I was just lazy. I could do whatever I wanted, see whomever, because I had the fucking gig, a new car, and a fucking awesome life.
(The ringing did go away, in case you're wondering.)
Fall comes along and, hey, Carcass is going to play in GR? Well, shit. I never saw Carcass in their prime - they broke up and had given up doing US tours by the time my teenage self entered the scene back in '98-99 at the birth of metal's resurgence. I never expected to either. Their drummer had a stroke and he couldn't play. Without Ken Owen, Carcass staunchly refused to return to action for about a decade. Eventually the festival scene in Europe became lucrative enough for a band like Carcass that a reunion had to happen just to pay the bills for their members, and they've basically been together ever since, touring the US a couple times. But this was a rarity - a legendary band playing secondary markets like Grand Rapids and Madison never happens. And to be honest, I do check to see if shows are set to come to town, and they rarely go to Grand Rapids. Throw in Macabre as a support act, and I was sold.
The emotional hook wasn't that I felt that I had to see the show, but there was the feeling that I should see these bands. It was a calling from the recesses of my mind still wondering if there was a place for me in that world. Could I put down the fruits of my success and get back to basics? Could I feel like I was 18 again? There's the doubts too. Is Grand Rapids a tough scene with brawling straight edge types seeking to punch someone in the face just for living? Will there be no one? Will there be a packed house? Would either be OK for me? Will I communicate with anyone for my time there or just stand idly by, watching the bands in an asocial manner?
Having been a vet of many more shows than I could possibly, reasonably count, I felt confident I knew how things would go. The doors would open at 6:30PM, people would enter, mill about, possibly a half hour would pass and a shitty local band would take the stage, followed by tear down and the entrance of the opening act for the tour package somewhere around 7:30-8PM, which was Noisem. When I was young, I stood in line outside the venue, ticket grasped in my hands, chatting with the fellow metal heads around me about our excitement to see whoever the hell it was would be in the club that night. Was it a band we'd seen 20 times or never? These were the things we'd have playful banter about.
At 31, that desire for naive chatter has ended, and I instead chose to go to my mother-in-law's house and feed her cats and do their litter while she is away in New Zealand. I didn't want my wife to walk there in the pitch dark, for christ's sake. Dinner was consumed at the house before I left; a manly meal of left over pasta w/roasted eggplant I made two days before and a vegan bean salad I find quite crunchy and wonderful my wife concocted that morning. My choice to have two glasses of water led to me desiring a stop for a piss for almost the entire final 30 minutes of my drive. The option of pulling to the side and draining my lizard in the wooded areas and farmland surrounding I-96 sounded appealing on some desperate level, but I persevered. Is there anything more rock and roll than using the fucked up bathroom of a metal or punk night club? I'm sure Corporate Death from Macabre would be smoking mids in there, or perhaps a member of Exhumed doing a chick doggie style over the toilet, cocaine positioned on the tank, graffiti covering the walls.
Grand Rapids' has a couple different clubs which could possibly have metal shows, but generally don't. Located on the western side of the state, Grand Rapids is a more conservative kind of city than Detroit or Lansing. Does that play into the dearth of metal shows or bands in his part of the country. This show was held in one of the stages at the Intersection, which the internet tells me has a "sell-able capacity of 1800". That's a pretty big number for a tour like this in a market that doesn't get much traffic, and it showed. Carcass only sold a couple hundred tickets. It wouldn't be a show featuring Macabre in a prime support slot that I attend if I wasn't a significant percentage of the crowd. Parking is right across the street in a part of town that looks like it is heading for gentrification in a hurry. Or already there. I'll be back soon to see The Nutcracker, possibly in the same lot. Who am I to speak? I'm old. So old my first stop in the club was to the bathroom and piss. The restrooms were quite nice.
As I exited, I realized that Exhumed was on stage playing. This meant I missed Noisem, and I guess I should be upset about that. I still haven't heard them play weeks later and don't care to any real degree. Exhumed was audible for once, and they seem to have morphed into a gore-centric death metal band that is competent but not terribly interesting. They no longer have a chainsaw or breath fire, but some their bassist (who resembles wrestler Sean "X-Pac" Waltman now) did vomit for effect. I can't pretend to have really cared as I drank a $6.50 microbrew. In front of me, a pack of 6 teenagers feigned moshing and chatted between or during sets. A middle 20s white male wearing a wife beater tossed his 24 oz can of Bud Light into a trash can nearby. What am I doing here?
Macabre took forever to set up. When they did play, it was a start and stop set with something like 20 seconds spent between monologues by the singer/bassist and the songs actually beginning. In case you were wondering, if you play your songs for 30 years but you make practically no money, you're not really a pro. It's more like being a community theater actor. Mistakes will be made. Were they bad? Nah. But I felt like I'd rather be listening to the record. I was out of place; a fossil? An interloper? Both? But the men on stage were yet older. Is this where they find the drive to keep going? To wake up every morning and head to work?
Carcass headlined, and they had a whole video projection thing set up to look more professional. They played some classic tunes from when they were a grind band, some from when they had transitioned into being a pseudo-political melodic death metal band, and like three from their new record. I listened to Surgical Steel on Spotify, and nothing of it was retained. It was better as live material in the moment. Once it was clear that there wasn't really gonna be a serious pit, I moved up and enjoyed the show a couple people from the barrier. Some kids with long hair banged their heads. I could be concerned with authenticity and cultural appropriation. But, I realized is there anything going through that kid's head aside from gravitational force forcing the brain back and forth inside his skull? He's reacting to the music. No different than I did at 17. No different than some 17 year old did in 1988. No different than the 17 year old in 2026 will, if this whole metal thing is still around.
The music ended at 11:00 PM or so, and a video played. It was some sort of fake (or real?) 1980s workout video with topless women and terrible visual effects. I can't say this early end was a bad thing. I'm old, and I needed to work the next day. And the day after. And for many days going forward umpteen years into the future. I set the Bluetooth functionality in my car to stream music, and I blared something for most of the hour ride home. I know myself. It was probably some variation on the "hits" of Chiraq. Lil' Bibby more than likely or King Louie, as they tend to be more lyrical. This was a show of young people entertained by old people playing what was once young people's music. It felt strange. It wasn't an event I'd deem as pure nostalgia. Most were like me, I think. They had never seen Carcass before and odds were good they weren't to see them again.
For those fans, this is now their world. I'm merely a passive observer. Honestly, passive observers aren't welcome here, only active participants. Legends never slowly fade away, they only burn out in glorious pyre for all to see. My list of shows and venues I've been to and attended is irrelevant now, as there's no denim jacket loaded with retro-styled patches and hair hanging to my shoulders. My head does not bang and I promise near instant regret for anyone who wants to try it make it do so. When you arrive at that place mentally, it is time to let go. It is time for me to move on. The game is the game. The "scene" is the "scene." May long it live for whomever wants it.