By P.J. Magellan

This summer a traveling caravan of mad men are coming to town near you. Lead by the fearless mutant legends of metal, GWAR, the third installment of The Sounds of the Underground Tour is underway, delighting and horrifying crowds of maniacal fans all across the country. Not long ago, I witnessed this cluster-fuck of decadence and mayhem at Myrtle Beach’s own House of Blues.

Despite problems with my friend’s ticket scanning, $4.75 Budweisers, and a staff of overzealous cavemen using fear tactics and brute force as their security policy, things ran quite smoothly. Please make note that these are all issues I have with the venue itself, not the concert organizers. I am always baffled when places book shows of this nature, only to get all shitty in the britches when pits open up and people react aggressively to the music. It’s all in good fun, fellas. Yeah, there might be a black eye here and a broken nose there, but it’s a metal show for fuck sake. Instead of recounting the day’s events in a conventional sense, I have come up with my own Sounds of the Underground Superlatives. Thirteen bands and over ten hours of in your face savagery synthesized into a list I am making up off the top of my head.
 
Today’s Just Not My Day Award:
This Is Hell. Being the first of thirteen bands is no walk in the park, I understand. But, to me, their effort seemed forced and disingenuous. I saw these guys a few months back in Wilmington and it was a completely different story. Their energy was through the roof and the upstairs of The Soapbox was all two-stepping, stage diving, and fist pumping fun. Good times. “Let the good die young, we’ll fuckin’ live forever.” Better luck next time guys.

My New Favorite Band:
The Number Twelve Looks Like You. This six-piece math-core outfit from Jersey blew me away. Their music is sporadic and raw as all hell, yet immaculately tight. With two front men, a prodigious lead guitarist and one of the most uniquely talented drummers I have seen, The Number Twelve owned the stage and they knew it. This breed of metal isn’t for everyone, but these guys are really good at what they do.

The Cheese Award:
Goatwhore. I didn’t even hate their music that much. I just remember shaking my head in disbelief and smiling to myself for almost their entire set. Exploiting every cliché in the book, these guys need a serious identity makeover. With song titles like “Alchemy of the Black Sun Cult,” and “Blood Guilt Eucharist,” it was very hard for me to take Goatwhore seriously. Two cents.

Best Name for a Metal Band: Heavy Heavy Low Low. Enough said.

Insert Foot in Mouth Award: The Acacia Strain. After hearing their album, 3750, I wrote these guys off completely, calling them “stupid rubber band music,” in reference to their insanely down-tuned anti-melodies. But I’ll be the first to admit, I was wrong. Those guys rocked. They definitely upped the ante and were responsible for some of the heaviest breakdowns of the afternoon.

Most Awesomely Angry Song Award:
Chimaira, “Pure Hatred.” This song closed out their set with a huge dose of unfiltered malevolence. For some reason there was something very refreshing hearing hundreds of people all yelling, “I hate everyone.”

Best Going Into Battle Music:
Amon Amarth. I seriously felt like I was on a huge Viking ship, sword in hand, on my way to fuck shit up. Taking their name from a location in Tolkien’s middle earth, Amon Amarth means “Mount Doom.” Their music is littered with references to Norse Mythology and combines catchy riffing with hints of death metal. Sweet.

Best Hair of Any Front Man:
Brian Fair, Shadows Fall. He has the most kick ass dreads I have ever seen. Those things must weigh five pounds each, falling practically to his knees. At one point he was slinging them crazily around his head with a strobe light flashing violently behind him. It looked awesome. In combination with the Aphex Twin-esque artwork as the band’s backdrop, Shadows Fall’s onstage ambiance complimented the music flawlessly.

Always the Shit Award:
Every Time I Die. I love these guys. What can I say? “It’s the rush that the cockroaches get at the end of the world.” In my experiences, ETID never disappoints. The pit exploded as they boys from Buffalo threw down.

GWAR! I cannot make up an award that could ever explain a GWAR show. Ass-less chaps, gallons of blood, Oderus Urungus’s giant spraying cock, Satan, decapitation, and an epic battle with a Tyrannosaurus Rex are only the tip of the ice-burg. These guys combine grotesque theatre and kick-ass metal into perhaps the most entertaining live show of our time. They were the perfect finale to a long, hard day of drinking, debauchery and glorious, distorted noise. Walking out of the HOB, seeing everyone drenched in fake blood is definitely I sight to behold. Until next time, GWAR, you strange motherfuckers.