As I stood in the most secluded part of the Starland Ballroom that I could find, I sent my pal, Rob, the following text: “I’m at Starland Ballroom with my brownie about to kick in, realizing that I’m too old (and bitter) for these kinds of shows.” Not long after hitting send, Death Ray Vision took the stage and ripped through a blistering eleven song set that reminded me that there is not much better than live hardcore music when done right.
(photo credit: Steph Malfatto; StephMalfatto.com)
I haven’t been listening to much hardcore these days and I’ve narrowed it down to two main reasons why not:
1. At the ripe old age of 34 I find myself not being able to relate to what hardcore bands of today are screaming about. At 16 years old, just like VOD said, dropping the oppressor did seem like the only solution. Nowadays the only solution in my mind is to avoid the oppressor. The world is a fucked up place so my plan is to create a bubble and keep the good ones in and the bad ones out. And I certainly don’t want to scream about this. That would only draw attention to, and burst, said bubble.
and
2. I have a kid now. This doesn’t mean I’ve gotten soft and only listen to The Wiggles, though they are awesome. But rather, I find that there’s far less opportunity for me to put my hardcore records on the turntable. Most times that I am home with him, Willie is either playing or napping so as much as I’d love to drop the needle on Turmoil’s The Process Of, I think that the opening line (truly one of the most brutal openings of any hardcore record ever) “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU LOOKING AT?!?” might wake Willie and get me into a heap of trouble. So I’ve been discovering all of this great, quieter music that doesn’t disturb the household which would in turn leave me sleeping outside. And don’t mistake quiet for light. These new (to me) artists are teaching me that an acoustic guitar can make some of the darkest, most haunting music I’ve ever heard.
The Starland Ballroom is a venue that is a mere 25 minutes from my house and it’s one that I go to maybe once every two or three years. It’s a beautiful venue and one that’s so convenient for me to get to but they host bands that don’t interest me. The bands that were being advertised on the screen that I stared at from corner while nursing a beer were: Say Anything, Nonpoint, Staind, Emmure, Halestorm, etc. Apart from Staind I have never actually heard any of these bands and I don’t plan on doing so. But on this night, Killswitch Engage was headlining a show with direct support from All That Remains. This is one of those shows that I would typically avoid as well but the second band on the bill was Death Ray Vision. This would be my fourth time seeing them in four different states. The first time I hopped on a bus and saw them play in Revere, Massachusetts. They played for half an hour and it was every bit worth the 500 mile, 9 hour round trip trek. I then saw them in Philly in a 100 capacity club on my 31st birthday. The third time was in New York at The Studio at Webster Hall, an amazing place to see an intimate show. As I pulled up to the Starland Ballroom and shelled out seven bucks to park my car in the VFW lot across the street I knew that tonight was a different kind of a show than I was used to but it was Death Ray Vision so I was going to suck it up for the night.
(Gia thinks it’s odd that I write in the band I went to see on my tickets if I wasn’t there for the headliner. Even after 10 years of being together, my nerdy-ness still surprises her.)
As I stood there waiting for them to take the stage, my pot brownie had begun to set in and I had started to second guess my decision to come. Maybe I was too old for hardcore shows. I was starting to get inside my own head wondering if everyone around me was staring at me with pity for not having a friend to come to the show with. Was I the lonely soul that eats alone at the same table of a TGI Fridays every week? I buckled down and decided to make my way close to the front and told myself that if the crowd absolutely sucked and I couldn’t focus, I could just go stand in the back. After they played their first song, Shattered Frames, there was no goddamned that way I was moving from my spot.
For the next thirty minutes (a perfect set length for a hardcore band) I was 16 again. I whisper-screamed along to every word and bopped my head along with the drums with reckless abandon and without worry of the Metallica-neck I would face for the next few days. There is no doubt that the band, who before they played, were probably known by most in the crowd as Mike D. from Killswitch and Brian from Shadows Fall’s other band, had captivated and commanded everyone watching and the crowd now knew exactly who they were. They also reminded this old grump of music’s ability to allow one to escape from everything, whether that music was coming out of earbuds and helping to forget about a shitty day at work or if it came from a stage and was somehow able to make the Slipknot shirts and cell phones being held overhead become nothing more than blurred images in one’s peripheral vision.
As All That Remains began their set and after seeing not one, but two grown men dressed in cow suits (it was the night before Halloween but that didn’t make it right) I got out of the club as quickly as possible so that I wouldn’t come down from my high…either one of them. Reminding me that I was at a concert rather than a show was the fact that the gate to the VFW lot that I had parked in was locked shut. I headed inside the hall where Joel and Adam from Killswitch were sitting drinking beer at a half full bar and an older gentleman said he would unlock the gate so that I could be on my way. He apologized for it being locked saying that most people didn’t leave this early on in a show and told me that “Killswitch are right over there.” He was an awesome guy and I enjoyed my chat with him on the way to my car. It’s funny that the person I found myself most able to relate to on this night was a VFW member who had no idea who the hell the bands across the street were. As I drove home I promised myself, as I did after each time I have seen them, that every time Death Ray Vision comes within a few hours of my house I will be in the crowd remembering what I love so much about this kind of music…just incase the picture sitting on my desk from the last time they came through New York doesn’t remind me of this each and everyday.
(Death Ray Vision, Studio at Webster Hall- NYC 09/13/13 with yours truly either screaming along or reacting to taking a dreadlock to the face)
Suburban Bourbon 