I went to my first heavy metal concert to see Mastodon of whom I'm a fan.
Converge also played the show.
Converge was appreciably adequate - decent sans the vocal (singular) which perchance never varied from a one-worded yowl which cacophonously sounded like "war" through at least six songs - the entire set. More bizarre was the
vocalist/visual artist Jacob Bannon überDINKY (acronym short for dual (or double) income, no kids yet - yuppie synonym) cadence when introducing a song. Each song was prefaced with the song's meaning. Yet all subsequent vocal (singular, yet again) was stentorian and discordant. Additionally, the same vocal that was used in all precedent songs each having a patchwork of meanings.
Mastodon was mellifluous, intense and accurate. My homeboys all wore earplugs as they nullify the highs and save your ears for future use. I noticed as an affect of the earplugs the bass was amplified and distorted proffering the listener a bass-driven experiential tangibility. Such expansion made a palpable difference delivering bass (drums and guitar(s)) more intensely effortlessly.

I generally won't dance if I can't feel the beat.
digression arrested

I now know earplugs are the
Robitussin® panacea for dancing.

For clarity: play any music and I'll out dance you. I'm a Harlem, Sugar Hill, 70's breech baby - dig that tangle.
digression arrested

For Mastodon's set I removed the earplugs. They rocked, I jammed.
As of today my ears of are fine.
There will be more live heavy metal to come.

The vocals of heavy/death metal are sung in a very atonal style which I deem a comparable
child-rearing stand-in for corporal punishment (one I shall employ) and/or overdubbing Evil Dead II (1987).

*Red centing - self-aggradizing and/or imo (in my opinion)
*Enriching uranium - moments in fyi (for your information) yet not arduous nor daffily oblique to understand
Digression arrested - preceding tangent concluded - thusly, returning to original course

Funny story about Mastadon. The drummer and 1 guitarist are from Rochester, NY, my hometown. I first saw Mastadon in Minneapolis at a High on Fire show (and if you're a fan of extremely intense, creative, intricate, but accessible doom/heavy metal, you must see that band right now. They are the standard bearers).

I wento the HoF/Mastadon show with some friends, we were all getting drunk in a corner, and I could not see Mastadon when they started to play. After about three songs I thought I recognized the drummer's playing style--kinda like the dude from Primus mixed with punk rock. I got a wierd feeling because they style is pretty unique to some drummers I know in Rochester and Upstate New York. I went to the stage and it was this guy Braun playing behind the band Mastadon. This was three years ago when they were just making a name for themselves.

Flashback to April 1992. I was in a punk/funk band in Rochester called Linus. We were headlining a show, about two hundred people showed up. An emo/new wave band called Either/Or opened for us, and death metal band called Lethargy. Braun was the drummer, just starting out. Our band attracted a lot of jocks and freaks, their band attracted a lot of wanker hicks. They crowds seemed to get along quite well however. The lead singer of Lethargy announced one song: "This one is for my girlfriend, Maggie. I love you." ROAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWR

Thanksgiving 1998 I am in another band called Boutros Boutros,
a funk/punk band. We used to get on stage wearing Village People costumes, Indian headresses, Boy Scout Uniforms, I usually had yellow rubber gloves and a cod-piece. Our guitarist played in a Turkey costume that night. We showed up late to this show and wound up headlining, playing after Lethargy who had been touring Europe at that point. It was a coming home show for them of sorts, albiet one at a pitiful park pavillion in the boonies of Monroe County. Being so far from the city, EVERY
SINGLE ONE of the bands playing at this all-day show were either hardcore punk, metal or neo-nazi, little did we know. Nonetheless their girlfriends couldn't get enough of our signature funk songs about a pork holocaust, a toast delivery boy, and our biggest ditty "Hamburger Titties." We won over the others when we played PE's "She Watches Channel Zero" with its Slayer rift. Braun was at the show and basically ignored us the whole time. In Rochester, he was the punk Fonzie, basically a hipster, got a lot of ass, and acted like his shit didn't stink, generally an arrogant prick.

In Minneapolis 2003, when I recognized him onstage I went backstage and said what's up. He remembered me, and was like, "Oh yeah, you guys." Was basically like, Yeah, I don't live in Rochester anymore, and ignored me the rest of the night. Fine with me, I never really liked the dude. I got drunk with the dudes from High on Fire the rest of the night. Well.... I had gotten drunk bfore and during the show actually. When I was chilling with the group I toked up a little, turned green, ran to a hotel across the street and told the concierge to call me cab while I straight defiled three of his bathroom stalls for the next hour.

Mastadon/Braun's band's music is amazing. Call me a hater, but I generally won't listen to them because that guy is a dick.

- a perspective -

*Editorial rendering - source: in the
vainglorious words of Professor X of the X-Clan, "...is protected by the red, the black, and the green, with a key, sissssiiiiieeeeeeeees! Huh!"
*Mastadon -
*Braun - drummer Bränn Dailor


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