Date: 10/11/2015 (A SUNDAY! Yep, I’m that hardcore)
Bands: Witch Mountain, Prong, Veil of Maya, Superjoint Ritual, Danzig (in that order for some reason)
Venue: Iron City Birmingham (Quickly becoming a hardcore hotbed)
Crew: Me, Chris, Brad (All names changed because their kids, moms or coworkers might read this)
First off: We made it just in time for a couple of beers in the restaurant while Witch Mountain played. That’s your pit review for Witch Mountain... excellent beer from TrimTab Brewery. We talked to the tour manager too. He seemed unimpressed. Hmmph to him. But I wasn't about to cheer him up for fear that he might sacrifice me to his god. Yes, it was that kind of crowd.
Crowd: This was by far the darkest crowd I've seen. Everybody, especially a group of folks with Devil's Disciples jacket patches, had on the appropriate Dark Lord attire. Everybody but me. I went with my favorite Mental Floss “Trees, all bark no bite” t-shirt. I could've worn my fresh
GWAR shirt to fit in, but where's the fun in fitting in? There were a few golf shirts and cargo shorts, but not nearly as many as other shows. One Golf Shirt in particular wishes he didn't even come to the show. I'd estimate the place was at 800 of the possible 1300 full capacity.
Chris! You need to know about him. 160 lbs, maybe. 5 foot 9, maybe. 44 years old, definitely. We don’t swap statistics but I used to work for the Benzini Brothers guessing stuff like that. And it’s all on his Facebook page. He’s got a head of hair that would make Chewbacca jealous. Drowsy eyes covered half way by his overstuffed, cerebral brow. Unassuming, except when you’re not cool enough to be in the pit. And he won’t let a baby injury like a cracked rib keep him from a slam.
Chris’s night:
1. “Dude! It’s Prong!”
2. “What? Where? Where is he? Which one is he?!”
3. “A guy said, ‘Hey I know you……’ Ha!”
4. “I like going head on.”
5. “Look, I’ve been doing this a long time.”
6. “How the hell do you screw up Nativity in Black that bad?”
7. “She doesn’t know what the hell she’s doing.”
8. “We ruled this pit.”
PRONG! They hopped on Danzig's billing for this show. Originally they were supposed to play in November, but this is Birmingham and there's no way they could've pulled a good crowd alone. Smart move, Prong. When they stepped to the stage, we were expecting Veil of Maya because usually bands go in order of fame, right? And who is Veil of Maya? So, when Tommy Victor growled "Beg to Differ!" Chris opened his eyes wide “Dude! It’s Prong!” He bolted for the pit! The crowd was hungry for a slam. Call me what you want, but I’m shy about that first thirty seconds. There was no stopping Chris, though, he was making friends with his elbows and clenched jaw.
The hunger pulled me in and I swirled, elbows flying, stepping high, quick hops, adjusting and finally hitting the floor. The beers covered the laminate floor fast tonight. I wish these people would figure this out - keep your beer out of the pit! That was the only fall for me all night. Brad joined us once or twice, but what he’d learned from the Slayer pit stuck — Don’t wear your glasses in the pit! — Lesson for today — don’t leave your glasses in the car. He couldn’t see a damn thing. He should’ve brought a red-tipped cane for the pit.
—
“What? Where? Where is he? Which one is he?!” Chris had his fists clenched and was ready for a take down. Pay back. Don’t bring that into the pit! “He was right here,” I said, pointing at the acre of land the guy’s fat ass had staked out during the first few songs.
As with most pits there was one huge guy who is feeling invincible. Too bad invincibility often comes with a Bad Attitude. I had helped a few guys up, they were spilling as fast as the beers. Another went down in the corner. Golf Shirt accidentally got into the mix and he was on all fours - a good deed waiting to be helped up. Closing in on him, I noticed Bad Attitude standing in the crowd behind him, obviously the reason Golf Shirt was down. I put my hand up on the shithead’s chest. “Whoa!” I yelled. But as I bent down to help Golf Shirt off his knees, Bad Attitude’s combat boot pitched into his head! I yelled louder! “HEY!” By then people had pulled Bad Attitude away. Like a prematurely pinched off turd he disappeared back into his rectum of a world. I brought Golf Shirt to his feet, his eye already swollen shut. Leaning in, I yelled “You better go clean that up!” “Huh?!” he says, shaking his head side to side, fearfully moving his fingers around his eye. I thought, Oh man... He can’t hear me in that ear! “Go look at that!” I yelled in his other ear. The red confusion dripped from his eye and down his cheek.
Bad Attitude didn't show up again. It’s good for him he got kicked out of the show, because Chris was ready to kick the show out of him. I would’ve helped. Seriously, why do people have to be such jackwagons?
—
Veil of Maya (AKA break time) Okay, they tried hard, but it was like a mashup between The Mars Volta and Someone Heavy n Not So Good. I made up that last band name, no need to search it up. At least they had cool backdrops for their show. There was no pit. Someone tried for about 30 seconds, but a melody broke out, with an operatic vocal and the whole thing screeched to an abrupt “nah”. “Ha,” Chris said, “I just got recognized. A guy said, ‘Hey I know you… school, you teach Human Phys 643’ Ha!” I’m telling you Chris is damn cerebral, and brutal too. “This pit kinda sucks, man. To make it more fun, I like going head-on.” At the GWAR show he came out with swollen elbows from going head-on, and couldn’t lift his arms more than half-mast the next day.
Superjoint Ritual!! Oh man, I got nervous for this one.
Phil Anselmo from Pantera stepped to the front and Wow! This dude is one badass mother! The crowd surged. Fists, clenching, shot to the ceiling. No one in the pit would leave with fully operational vocal cords after this show. The first chord struck and the place went nuts! And where do you think Chris was? Smack in the middle of the fray! Going the wrong direction. Taking punches, delivering elbows and ducking the Tasmanian Devils. There were three of them. One kept his fists flying, out, away from his body as he spun in circles. He was a little guy, but solid, obnoxious and dangerous as hell. Another came in like a pinball, racing through the mob at full speed to bounce off the other side, turn and repeat. I took him out a couple times with the power of judo or gravity or beer-slicked floor. A third one, a hillbilly, had one hand on his overalls, keeping them hoisted above his johnson. He wasn’t too bad. At least he gave out one armed hugs after every song. Superjoint brought out the best pit of the night. Brutal but fun.
Danzig!! (AKA “No pictures, please” Just kidding, he’s not that polite about it, “No pictures, MFs!!)
This is how I thought it would go: Raise hell for Prong, raise hell for Superjoint, and then breakout the lawn chairs to watch Danzig try to raise his own Hell. We tried, I swear. We rounded the floor 5 or 10 times and bounced off a few folks. More than anything we took some heat from the standers-by. We took some more heat. The edge lurkers were getting a little pushy or bored. One time around I noticed Chris, arms crossed, brow hiding his eyes, standing next to one of the ambushing observers, a greasy, tiny, flounderish, scared, 15 year-old. Chris was wearing his “You’re grounded for a month” expression. He said “Look, I’ve been doing this a long time…” and continued into a wise, punk rocking parent lecture. Turns out, the kid met Danzig at 2nd And Charles that day and had a picture to prove it! What?! But no pictures at the show? Why?
Danzig has a new album coming out, Skeletons. All covers. Apparently, he’s been wanting to do a covers album since his uncles Cain and Abel taught him to fight. I had to Google all this after the show because I couldn’t understand a damn thing he was saying on the stage. Besides his vocal chords being ripped to shreds from a lifetime of screaming, the sound sucked for his voice. He introduced his Elvis song. It was one I’d never heard. He played a biker movie theme song, Devils Angels. Never heard of that either. As a final advert for his album he said “and here’s a Black Sabbath song.” I didn’t recognize it either…well… until Chris said “How the hell do you screw up Nativity in Black that bad?”
Swells and lulls. The Pinball Tasmanian Devil annoyed us. Now the chicks felt safe and came in — one in a white halter top and jeans, and an “interesting” one in a black bikini top and tight shorts. I hadn’t accidentally grabbed so much boob since playing high school two-hand-touch football. “She doesn’t know what the hell she’s doing,” Chris pointed out. I didn’t really notice that fact. “Mother, tell your children not to walk my way…” finally came from the speakers. And even for this, Danzig’s best known song, swells and lulls. Ten seconds of swell led into a loooong lull. Bikini Top took this as a chance to prove two things: 1. She indeed didn’t know what the hell she was doing, and 2. The pit was dead. She built up a run, went down to her knees, and slid fifteen feet across the PBR drenched floor, right into her friend who laughed and giggled with her. I’ve seen it before but with jello. Then a 16 year-old dude Supermanned in his brand new Danzig tee. The pit was dead.
“Woah-oh Mother YEAH!” ended. I turned to Chris, “You ready to bolt?” Cool and with no hesitation he said, “Yeah. We ruled this pit.”
“Woah-oh Mother YEAH!” ended. I turned to Chris, “You ready to bolt?” Cool and with no hesitation he said, “Yeah. We ruled this pit.”
Indeed.
As a last note: I want some punk bands, please. You hear me Rancid?
As a last note: I want some punk bands, please. You hear me Rancid?
