Allport Authority

Yesterday evening Shane and I drove to Detroit to see Dethklok in concert. The drive itself was uneventful. We were both fairly relaxed. Shane claimed to be tired. I had taken a nap after getting home from class. I was therefore fairly well rested; I often catch myself yawning at concerts despite how wide-awake I ought to be. I had intentionally made sure that I wouldn’t be nodding off during the show. Needless to say, being calm and reflective is not traditionally included in the arsenal of metal concertgoers. Fortunately, Detroit stepped up to free us from those restrictions.

Going to a large concert means preparing yourself to bleed cash. Twelve bucks for parking wasn’t bad. I had been expecting twenty. And we got to park right across the street from the theater. We don’t have to wait outside for more than three minutes. Frisked at the door, in we go. Oh shit, there’s the merch. I had planned to buy a t-shirt. I don’t usually purchase a lot of clothing. I have, however, made a point of grabbing a shirt if it’s a band that I’m proud to have seen. Daft Punk, Pearl Jam, and Tool are three examples. I’ve listened to Dethklok almost exclusively for almost a year. I think it qualifies for a t-shirt purchase. Oh wait, they only have smalls and extra larges left. I am forced once again to contemplate why concert venues are never able to anticipate how fat or not fat their customers are going to be. I have no answers. I also have no t-shirt.

We wade into the general admission area. There’s the floor area against the stage, a raised level with some chairs and tables, and a bar. Shane notes that the price for a 24oz beer is the same as a long island. This should be a no-brainer. He gets two long islands – one for himself and one for me in lieu of payment for gas. Turns out that long islands are served in a 12oz cup. Kind of a brutal turn of events. Feeling somewhat ripped off, we return to the floor.

The opening bands fucking blew. I have no idea what the first one sounded like, but I consider myself lucky if the second band was supposed to be better than the first. I’ve since learned that the second band was Converge. Their new album is called “Axe to Fall.” I was told beforehand that they were worth being excited about. I’m glad that I chose to disagree at the time. I renew my disgust. These guys played for way too long. Then they announced that they were going to be playing four more songs. My impressive string of profanity was matched only by the majority of people around me. It was at that point that I decided I needed a nine-dollar beer.

I used the Mastodon set to move closer to the stage. I was pretty sure that it was Mastodon because they didn’t announce themselves before they started playing. They also had some kind of video playing on the large screen behind them. It involved a wizard or something who appeared to work with Russians – or at least men with large beards and military uniforms. Dunno. Some douchebag was headbanging and kept bumping into us from behind. Mastodon was pretty cool, but they were not who I had come to see.

Dethklok came on stage following Mastodon. They had a series of cartoons that played between songs. The character voices seemed really high-pitched. The music was great. The lighting was of little consequence. The moshing was tolerable. Brendon Small spoke to us as each of his different characters from the show. I’ve always enjoyed the idea that someone who writes a great tv show can also play guitar and sing really well. I was not disappointed. Shane almost got knocked over by the moshers and lost the cigarettes in the shuffle. That sucked.

It was not inappropriate for our moods to have fouled by a continued series of bad shit happening. The money we had to spend, not being allowed to use specific bathrooms, no shirts, douchebags crashing into shit, shitty openers, having to drive to Detroit during rush hour, etc. all combined to make a good show even more brutal.

Season 3 starts on November 8th. Half hour episodes. Going to kick major ass.