Last night sometime in the middle of Megadeth's set, a kid next to me starting complaining about Dave Mustaine's stage presence. "He doesn't give a shit," the boy said. "He's just playing his guitar."
Mustaine would answer the kid's complaining in his own way soon enough, but for the moment I'd ask you to consider purity. Just because a priest doesn't try to thrill you when he's transforming wine into blood doesn't mean there isn't beauty in the ritual.
Scott Spychalski Megadeth
The thing about Megadeth -- and Mustaine in particular -- is that the whole point of the band has been to spit in the face of the cheesy, goofy showmanship hair metal bands engaged in when Poison ruled the world. By focusing on the music and keeping the performance to a raw minimum, they've saved themselves from the the same fates as David Lee Roth and Kip Winger.
Last night, when Megadeth burned through their 1990 classic, Rust in Peace, it proved that not every band needs to try to be the Beatles. Putting them on the bill with today's bigger acts like Avenged Sevenfold wouldn't make Megadeth sound terribly dated. (Or even look that out of the place, thanks to the black shirt and jeans combo that metal's been using for years.) If you're never in style you can never be out of style, either.
Mustaine didn't spend a lot of time working the crowd in the way you might expect, He almost strolled around the stage, bent slightly over the neck of his guitar with his face hidden behind a wall of reddish yellow hair. But even without actually playing to the crowd, he draws it in. When he came out of for the start of Megadeth's encore, playing the opening notes of "Trust" on a double-guitar, the crowd popped in the way Lady Gaga would need to be eaten by a giant snake to elicit. It's not that Mustaine doesn't know how pull the crowd in; it's that he knows how to make you do the work for him.
"In case you're wondering why I don't talk much between songs, it's because I don't want to waste your fucking time," Mustaine told the crowd once Rust in Peace was done. "I don't want hear a guy on stage talking about how great he is."
The people watching all of this were young and old, with almost as many women as men. For the most part, they were a not slick people. An average metal crowd is made up of people who aren't going to fit into a lot of fashionable places, even if they wanted to. But they take everything that is wrong about themselves and use it to their advantage, and that in itself is sort of wonderful. Wait 20 years and look at a photo of Kanye West, he'll look like a peacocking douchebag. These people will still look like they could be on the street. They will outlast you. See you in the pit, you know?
Like Megadeth, Slayer has made a career out of staying on course for one true north: sustained fury. They started "World Painted Blood" hidden behind a white curtain like a burial shroud; and once that curtain dropped, they grabbed the crowd by the throat and shook for another hour and a half. (Which is exactly what the crowd wanted.)
Slayer is less of a band than a force of nature. They never let up, there are almost no breaks between the songs, and every one seems designed to wound you. Tom Araya spits rage, and Kerry King is like a mean bulldog you're not sure should be moving towards you. Asking someone their favorite moment of the Slayer performance would be like asking them which cloud in the hurricane looked the most threatening.
Slayer also played one of their classic albums, Seasons in the Abyss, and again proved that thrash metal can age well. (If you need me to tell you about Slayer in 2010, there's no point in telling you. And if you know Slayer already, then you know what the show was like.) They don't have off days, they don't have time to experiment.
Bands like Megadeth and Slayer don't change for the same reason modern sharks stopped evolving 100 million years ago. Because they don't have to.
Personal Bias: Once, trying to get home from a bar down a 20-mile stretch of interstate in Iowa, I put a Megadeth disc in to focus my attention. But I'd accidentally hit the repeat button, so the entire drive I listened to "Sweating Bullets" over and over again. I was terrified of taking my hands off the wheel, or to even look at the stereo, certain a cop was just out of site waiting for me to slip. I know now that Megadeth will always bring me home safe.
Overheard in the Crowd: "Fucking Slayer Fucking Slayer Fucking Slayer
Fucking Slayer Fucking Slayer FUCKING SLAYER!"
Random Notebook Dump: Last time I saw Slayer at Sandstone, the sound guy fucked them over. Slayer fans are not the fans to do this to. Cutting the guitars our of "Raining Blood" is like interrupting the Sermon on the Mount.
Set List
Slayer:
World Painted Blood
Hate Worldwide
War Ensemble
Blood Red
Spirit in Black
Expendable Youth
Dead Skin Mask
Hallowed Point
Skeletons of Society
Temptation
Born of Fire
Seasons in the Abyss
Encore:
South of Heaven
Raining Blood
Aggressive Perfector
Angel of Death
Megadeth:
Holy Wars... The Punishment Due
Hangar
Take No Prisoners
Five Magics
Poison Was the Cure
Lucretia
Tornado of Souls
Dawn Patrol
Rust in Peace... Polaris
Encore:
Trust
Headcrusher
A Tout Le Monde
Symphony of Destruction
Peace Sells
like
dislike
