The fiddle and the damage done

Many thanks to the lovely and talented Eden for her suggestions. The second batch of breakfast tacos had much nicer tortillas. You gots to roll them shits thin, yo!

So, the trip. Last year, the drive to the Twin Cities for the Heathen Crusade was fraught with hardships both weather- and bladder-related. This time, with clear skies and a minimum of stupid drivers, it was a breeze. The drive only took six hours, including a stop at what turned out to be a remote golf course restaurant with an excellent seafood chowder. Even better, for the first of the three times I've gone to Minnesota for a concert in the past year, the hotel was a cinch to find. While I apparently could have stayed up partying all night with the bands at the official fest hotel, I have not partied all night since the '90s, and I was glad I opted for digs about 15 minutes away. The organizers negotiated a rate with this other hotel for only $59 a night, which happily applied to my smoking room with king-size bed. I saw a few other Heathens in the halls, but this hotel seemed mostly deserted, which was nice for someone like me who loves living and traveling alone. Plus, the counter ladies at the Arden Hills Holiday Inn were all really cute. Uff da!

The new venue for this year's fest was in downtown St. Paul. As I asked around, folks told me that last year's amazing site, Star Central, either closed or burned down. Either way, that's sad. The new place was like a crappy, medieval version of Chicago's late, lamented Bottom Lounge. Station 4 is divided into two rooms - one for the ugly, gray concrete concert hall and one for everything else. It only has one bar, doesn't allow smoking and features an obstructive support beam right in the middle of the stage. The entrance/bar/vendor/shitter room was eternally clogged, while the back of the concert hall was taken up by that creepy European guy with the insane piles of bootleg metal t-shirts who used to be at Milwaukee Metalfest. And, yes, the SwordLord was back as emcee, annoying me yet again with countless rounds of "Where are you guys from? New York? Awesome! Who else is here from New York?" I saw that guy at the Maiden show in Rosemont a few months ago. I think he's stalking me.

So much for the negatives, because despite all of that, this year's Heathen Crusade was even better than the first. It's cool to hang out with like-minded people for a while, but I really go to these "destination" metal shows for the music, and on that front the organizers did a magnificent job. These dudes hand-pick the performers, arrange for their travel and lodging and never cut their allotted time short. I didn't see a single band that was bad, and many of them were simply amazing. This was a once-in-a-lifetime deal, an international metal fest the likes of which America has never seen. With so many highlights to describe, I'd best get to day one, which started at 7 p.m. and thus had half the performers of the following day.

1/19/07
Will of the Ancients - By the time I got to the venue (there was a traffic jam on I-694), I missed the local black metal band Bronnson. Those dudes were an 11th hour replacement for New York doom/death vets Grey Skies Fallen, who sadly had to cancel, and having heard Bronnson's demo offerings on MySpace, I didn't feel too bad about getting there late. I had just enough time to grab a beer and say hello to a few folks before Toronto's Will of the Ancients took the stage. Immediately, I was fearful for the weekend's sound. These melodic death metallers sounded pretty good on MySpace, but their crucial dueling guitars were totally lost beneath the bass and drums. The vocals seemed weaker left on their own. The worst part was that you could see the guitarists playing their asses off, even occasionally hear them doing something cool when the vocalist rested. The sound improved by the end of their set, thankfully. The band was pretty good if not especially engaging; I liked the riffs I could hear, as they were very power metal-influenced. But I'm a sucker for melodic death metal that doesn't steal all its moves from Slaughter of the Soul, and WotA had enough seafaring, stein-swinging Viking in their style to justify their presence here.
Vesperian Sorrow - These Texans have been plying a tasteful brand of symphonic black-ish metal for more than a decade. The last time I saw them was Milwaukee Metalfest 2003, the last year that was any "good." I remember M.O.D. coming on stage and Billy Milano unironically dedicating their set to "the President of the United States, George W. Bush," which was my cue to see who was on the other stage. That turned out to be Vesperian Sorrow, who were at the time utilizing two keyboardists. I caught one of the t-shirts they threw out to the crowd, and can still occasionally be seen sporting it. (The back says "DARK FUCKING METAL" in hilariously big letters, so I can't wear it to church in the summer.) They were okay, but I was never inspired to pick up one of their records, and seeing them again at the Heathen Crusade didn't change that. Like melodic metalcore, keyboardy pseudo-black metal doesn't usually bother me too much, as it at least requires solid musicianship. Yet, also like melodic metalcore, every new band you hear typically sounds very similar to another you've already heard. Rather than push the envelope, Vesperian Sorrow did their thing solidly, with some amiable riffs to get the head bobbing and the suds flowing down the gullet. I have to admit I wandered away from their set to peruse the vendor tables. I only bought the reissued Skyforger demo, since everyone's selection overflowed with stupid goregrind, obscure black metal of tenebrous political affiliation and a bunch of old CDs I already had. As for Vesperian Sorrow, they're not a mandatory listen, but a decent opening act. However, if you've just discovered Old Man's Child, this band is as good as any to check out when you decide to dig deeper.

Slough Feg - NOW, the shit began to go down. Beloved by metal nerds and critics alike (I consider myself part of both camps), Slough Feg is one of those bands you play for people and they either say, "Meh," or they totally flip out. The former type of person has no business listening to metal, the latter can't believe this band has been overlooked for so long. A fest like this is the perfect way to spread the word. Mike Scalzi's Bay Area metal warriors tore into their set with typical sweaty, bloody fury. Guitarist Angelo Tringali has proven himself a worthy replacement for Scalzi's former Hammers of Misfortune bandmate John Cobbett. That night, the guitar team fired out as many regal riffs as their stage time allowed, with virtually no downtime for three or for tunes at a time. Brand new drummer Antoine Reuben, as someone pointed out to me, might have been a bit uncomfortable as one of the only black guys in attendance, but that didn't stop him from nailing every one of the band's tricky rhythms with maximum force. This band is as solid and powerful as ever, and although they were the only traditional metal act on the entire bill, they eventually won over the haughty dudes in the Ildjarn long-sleeves. I can't tell you how gratifying it was to look around the room and see all those baffled, grinning faces becoming flailing masses of hair. (Even better, every one of the really hot female Crusaders showed up the next day sporting Slough Feg gear!) Since most of the musicians were hanging out, I got to talk with Scalzi for a few minutes here and there over the two days. He's a cigar guy, talks really fast and emphatically. In person, the veteran headbanger and philosopher is as intense and well-spoken as any drooling fanboy could imagine. Scalzi told me the new record's nearly done, that he's quite aware Slough Feg sounds like Brocas Helm, that they're coming back to Chicago in June and that you're more likely to get attacked on the streets of San Francisco than actually killed. And after all that, I'm still not sure whether the band has officially decided to add "The Lord Weird" to its name again.

Vreid - The fest's biggest surprise for me. I'd never really listened to Vreid before, which turned out to be my loss. See, this Norwegian band is comprised of dudes who used to be in a very well-regarded Viking/folk/black metal band called Windir. I was lucky to have witnessed their only U.S. live appearance, which was at that last "good" Milwaukee Metalfest I keep mentioning recently. Six months later, Windir founder Terje "Valfar" Bakken died of hypothermia. The band released a final best of/tribute compilation, and announced that their new configuration as Vreid would take a more "modern" death/black metal approach. I'm not huge on "modern" death/black; although their new stuff doesn't bug me, I prefer the older Behemoth material, and we really only need one Zyklon. I'd assumed Vreid was more of the same cold, clinical battering, but that was totally off the mark. Their style is actually more rock n' roll, with lots of headbanging grooves and catchy guitar hooks. Two songs in, my neck was in perpetual motion, and it didn't stop until they were through. A kick-ass live band, I will need to investigate Vreid's studio material soon.

Månegarm - The day ended with these Swedish folk metal veterans, whose appearance was greatly anticipated by more people than I expected. I've enjoyed Månegarm for years, but until I saw the Crusade line-up, they were one of dozens of European metal bands I was resigned to enjoying solely on record. They just don't have the press profile, the record sales or the label support to tour in the States. Yet, that's what fests like these are all about - a showcase for bands who can't afford to take the plunge and leave their jobs and families for a month, all for the dubious rewards of driving hundreds of miles to play for twenty people who have never heard of you, toting merchandise that no one buys, screwed by shady promoters and venues, stuck on the bottom of a bill littered with local cover bands. An act like Månegarm is an acquired taste. Most music listeners would be turned off by their underground metal elements such as growly vocals and hammering guitars, and most people into metal would find them too jaunty to take seriously. A niche festival such as this gives fans and bands what they want: a guaranteed opportunity to enjoy each other. An hour of pure energy, Månegarm's set drew heavily on their most recent LP, Vredens Tid, so there was not much black metal to be heard. Violinist Janne Liljequist, with his curly blonde mop and glasses, was quite the oddity among the otherwise metal-dude-looking band, and his constant movement while sawing away was a spectacle in itself. I saw people headbanging, moshing, stumbling, rump-shaking and jigging, a bizarre but exhuberently natural reaction to such music as Månegarm's. Who knows if I'll ever get the chance to see them again? It's doubtful, but if the opportunity arises, I will surely take it.

That's it for day one. A look at the marathon second day should appear in the forseeable future. Until then, please amuse youself with the three very un-metal reviews I wrote this week: The Appleseed Cast's sold-out show at the Abbey Pub last Friday, Porchlight Music Theatre's "Assassins" and Brazil's sophomore LP, The Philosophy of Velocity. Smell you later.