I figured I'd drag my ass out of the apartment as I was in
danger of turning into Jack Nicholson in "The Shining" if i didn't
get out for a bit. Lo and behold, O'Brien's had a decent show going on, so I
braved the sub-arctic temperatures (actually it wasn't that bad, but I'm sick
of this shit) and had my face rocked off.
Riff Cannon (amazing name, by the way) started off the night with an excellent set of heavy-ass RIFFING. Some sweet guitar solos sealed the deal. I think they're somewhat new, but I'll check 'em out again. At one point a riff cannonball landed right near me and almost spilled my drink.
Mob Hit have a little more hardcore mixed into their metal, but they're not really metalcore (thank God). Barry Spillberg from Wargasm beats the shit out of his drums for these dudes, so you know it's gonna be good. This would probably go over a little better with a younger, more energetic crowd, not a bunch of geriatric rockers who spike their Jack & Cokes with Ex-Lax (I'm speaking for myself here). A spot-on cover of "Honeybucket" by the Melvins brought a tear to this geezer's eye. Also, nice Stryper shirt.
Revocation just shredded. Three-piece death metal with a guitarist who could play rings around Trey Azagthoth or any other DM axeslinger out there. Did I mention this dude shreds? Totally. They kind of reminded me of Death a little bit, which I would say is a good thing. Even the people who didn't really dig 'em had to admit that the guitarist SHREDS. They have a small feature in the new issue of Metal Maniacs, so you can read all about what brand of goatsblood they soak their strings in.
Finally, Born of Thunder took the stage and rocked the hell out of the place. Craig Silverman (Only Living Witness) has been added on second guitar and it really beefs up the sound. It was fucking LOUD, in the best way possible. These heshers play pretty much straight-up metal, think Motorhead with a little Laaz Rockit mixed in, that kind-of-but-not-really speed metal. Mr.B broke a few laws with some too-fast-for-love drumming, but that's rock now, innit?
After the last notes had faded and the last beer had been drained, I said my farewells and headed back out to my dogsled and made my way across the frozen tundra that is Allston, my appetite for rock sated once again. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, after all.
Riff Cannon (amazing name, by the way) started off the night with an excellent set of heavy-ass RIFFING. Some sweet guitar solos sealed the deal. I think they're somewhat new, but I'll check 'em out again. At one point a riff cannonball landed right near me and almost spilled my drink.
Mob Hit have a little more hardcore mixed into their metal, but they're not really metalcore (thank God). Barry Spillberg from Wargasm beats the shit out of his drums for these dudes, so you know it's gonna be good. This would probably go over a little better with a younger, more energetic crowd, not a bunch of geriatric rockers who spike their Jack & Cokes with Ex-Lax (I'm speaking for myself here). A spot-on cover of "Honeybucket" by the Melvins brought a tear to this geezer's eye. Also, nice Stryper shirt.
Revocation just shredded. Three-piece death metal with a guitarist who could play rings around Trey Azagthoth or any other DM axeslinger out there. Did I mention this dude shreds? Totally. They kind of reminded me of Death a little bit, which I would say is a good thing. Even the people who didn't really dig 'em had to admit that the guitarist SHREDS. They have a small feature in the new issue of Metal Maniacs, so you can read all about what brand of goatsblood they soak their strings in.
Finally, Born of Thunder took the stage and rocked the hell out of the place. Craig Silverman (Only Living Witness) has been added on second guitar and it really beefs up the sound. It was fucking LOUD, in the best way possible. These heshers play pretty much straight-up metal, think Motorhead with a little Laaz Rockit mixed in, that kind-of-but-not-really speed metal. Mr.B broke a few laws with some too-fast-for-love drumming, but that's rock now, innit?
After the last notes had faded and the last beer had been drained, I said my farewells and headed back out to my dogsled and made my way across the frozen tundra that is Allston, my appetite for rock sated once again. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, after all.
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