Emissions from the Monolith 2007
"And The Last Shall Be First"
Austin, Texas is home to millions of metric tons of Tex-Mex food, barbecue, bars with cheap beers, and gorgeous coeds. So why would my heart feel a little heavy as I sat on the plane at LaGuardia, waiting to take off for the Lone Star state? The knowledge that this Emissions, orphaned and temporarily fostered in a new town, would be the last gnawed at the back of my mind.
But a pick-me-up occurred in an unsuspecting place - the tiny DirectTV screen on the seatback in front of me on my JetBlue flight. Playing was a live Heart show from last year and damn if those girls don`t still rock. Nancy and Anne were fired up and magnetic. I tuned in just in time to miss the horrid power ballad output of the late `80`s and catch their cover of "Love Reign Over Me." This confirmation that a once great American rock band can still deliver, despite added years and more than a few extra trips to the refrigerator, was invigorating. And what`s this? Metal: A Headbanger`s Journey follows on VH1 Classics! The docu-walk through a metalhead`s... well, head just upped the heavy ante. Fuck bittersweet! This was still Emissions. Give me rock and booze!
A couple of Heinekens and an uneventful flight later, I`m unloading into my motel room and can already spot some pleasantly familiar faces from Ohio, New York, and various points between. This really brings it home. I`m about to punish myself with four days of absurd alcohol consumption and some of the best underground heavy rock that can be found. And I`m not left waiting long. Within five minutes of greeting forum members MH8 and deelaw, I`m drinking whiskey from the bottle and double-fisting beers. Tonight will be a good night.
(I want to make a special mention here of Danny G. He was a great ambassador for his hometown and just an all-around gracious, generous guy the whole time we were in Texas. Salut, Danny! Wouldn`t have been nearly as good without you.)
Before the rock could blast off, the whole Super 8 Motel crowd poured into Stubb`s to fill our beer-primed gullets with as much basted, barbecued, boneriffic flesh as Texas can serve us. And the beer! Living in New York has at least one distinct perk - reverse sticker shock. After paying airport-like prices for everyday items in New York, lining up $3 beer after $3 beer in Texas is both exhilarating and horrifying. Typically, the only life preserver in the sea that is my own colossal thirst for indulgence is my wallet. But in Austin, it may as well have been a magic bag, dispensing unending streams of meaningless paper. Wheeeeeeee! My liver says we never have to stop!
After the meal, our faces greasy, our bellies full, and our heads fuzzy, it`s time to hit the club. To Emo`s!
At the front door, we`re hit with our first devastating body blow - Tia Carrera has canceled. A back injury to the guitarist has taken them out of action for the weekend. Having caught their unequaled brand of nearly telepathic improv, instrumental space-rock just once, I was practically tingling at the idea of seeing them not only at Emissions, but on their home stomping grounds. It was not to be. Standing there on the sidewalk under cloudy skies, staring blearily at the band`s name crossed off the bill, I felt a little deflated. But this was still Emissions and there was still more rock to be had than you could shake a damn big stick at.
One look at the interior of Emo`s and you know it`s Emissions-ready. Divey without being filthy. A big, open floor-plan dominated by a horseshoe bar. Bizarre art on the walls that is so reminiscent of the Nyabinghi, I`m disoriented for a minute. (This could`ve had something to do with the weed, beers, and barbecue. I may have stopped just inside the door, willing my brain to stop sputtering like a man who has accidentally walked into the ladies` room. I`m not sure.) A mural of softcore bondage porn featuring the Flintstones fills the wall to the left of the stage...
THE STAGE! There it is. Or should I say, there He is. Our own lord and filthy savior, the Nyabinghi Jesus, hand upraised in benediction, a halo of righteousness and probably fungal spores and urine rising from his head. Thank Christ that Christ is here. It simply wouldn`t be Emissions without N.J. riding shotgun.
With best intentions, I`d brought with me small notebooks and pocket-sized pens so I could keep meticulous notes on the bands as they played. I`m a writer, dammit! I have a responsibility to my craft and to my rea... hey, beer!
I should`ve known. My intentions are never as good as my ability to get myself shit-faced and completely swept up by quality rock. But I do have a few jottings from the first night of music, so in the interest of journalistic verisimilitude, I`ll recreate them here as best I can. (Disclaimer: If I don`t mention a particular band, it doesn`t mean they weren`t a highlight for me. It could simply be because I was really high and drunk then. Or I`m high now. Or that part of my brain is currently covered by a tarp and an orange sign.)
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Samothrace - a Yob-ish plodding evil broken by six-string bass freak-out, speed, and echoing feedback. Double-tap nightmares emerge from the fog. (Yes, I actually wrote this shit while completely fucked and banging my head. Is there anything more ridiculous than a metalhead rocking out, then pausing to jot down his thoughts in a notepad that looks like a prop on The Littles?)
Super Heavy Goat Ass - Holy. Shit. Had heard only the split with Southern Gun Culture. This is like knowing a Mack truck only by the bulldog on the grill. The locals are keeping a secret! This band is a powerhouse.
Damnweevil - Evil is fun? Wheel John Milton to the front of the stage. Satanic groove, unrelenting. The message is heavy. Helmet down-tuned and got really, really high.(Christ, this is only the third band of the night. Just how ripped am I at this point?)
The notes are interrupted here by a little commentary on the Emo`s sanitation facilities.
How do you spot the men`s room? Follow the smell of ammonia to the room with the trough full of ice. Almost like Nyabinghi, but with watery eyes instead of hair-trigger gag reflex.
A mysterious addition to the notebook, not in my handwriting: EdgeIn says "Nipple belts are ok."
The Makai - An artillery gun fucked an Uzi. My fucking face is rolling up on my skull like a windowshade. Bring it on!
Amplified Heat - Four Nuggets compilations just landed on my head at once. Imagine your ideal road movie in a country with no laws and this is the soundtrack. They are summoning tequila from thin air. Hail Amplified Heat!
And the notes end there. With a proper drug regimen unexpectedly difficult to obtain and maintain in Austin, the past 12 hours begin to catch up. I see one song in Kylesa`s set and suddenly I`m halfway back to the motel. (Unfortunately, this will become a recurring trend.) One foot in front of the other. Pay no attention to the horrifying freeway you have to cross. In the dark. Drunk. And high. Buy some beef jerky and Gatorade. Tomorrow will be a long day.
Friday, May 25, 2007
I fucking hate getting older. Suddenly, I can`t sleep past 8:30 am, no matter what horrors I`ve visited on my body the night before. I woke, showered, and headed out of the motel to find sustenance. Naturally, none of the other Emissions C.H.U.D.s were stirring at that hour. I walked and walked and walked through downtown trying to find a likely place for breakfast. A sign finally beckoned - "Breakfast tacos." You`re goddamn right, breakfast tacos. Breakfast fucking tacos.
While eating my chorizo taco and waiting for the rest of the Emissions world to hear the call of the noon rooster, I paged through The Onion and saw an ad for a bar called Jackalope - "Austin`s daytime drinking headquarters. Happy hour starts at 11:30 am!" Oh sweet, smooth baby Jesus. Nothing will save us. I started calling the others.
We were waiting for the bartender when he finally opened Jackalope, about 15 minutes late. He must`ve hesitated as he approached the door, spying through the dirty glass a group of five or six zombies, milling on the sidewalk and moaning, occasionally scratching at the window and uttering half-formed words that sounded like "Boooody maaarrrr... booody maaaarrry!" Little did I know that Jackalope would become my new favorite bar.
The great food, pool tables, cheap drinks, and top-notch bartender would`ve been enough. But behind the bar was a big-screen TV playing movies with the sound off (wouldn`t want to interrupt the great old-school punk playing on the juke) and the subtitles on. We were treated to a triple feature of The Last Dragon, Boondock Saints, and motherfucking Roadhouse!
That`s right. Three movies, six hours. Parked at a bar, drinking gallons of bloody mary and beers. It was hard to believe this was just our warm-up for the night`s rock. I could happily live perched on that bar stool. But rock we must and rock we would!
The turnout for Friday night was disappointing. There`s no two ways about it. But for the first year in a new town, especially a town that features live music in every nook and cranny big enough to hold a PA, it wasn`t too bad. Greg did another outstanding job. It was fun to watch him get to enjoy the bands and socialize with the fans for a change. It was also fun seeing him try to figure out what to do with himself without a club to run.
Things get even fuzzier here and I have no crib sheet to help. But I`ll pick out my most memorable musical moments of the night.
Valkyrie - Fuck me. I`ve seen these guys a couple of times now and I can think of few bands that combine the yowling, juggernaut momentum of good doom with the blistering twin-guitars and exhilaration of power metal like they do. The crowd is frenzied and the grin didn`t leave my face for their entire set, not even when I tasted the coppery tang of my own blood dripping down my face from an inadvertently headbutted beer bottle. Simply put, Valkyrie rules.
Test-Site - Save me. I`ve just gotten the bleeding stopped when Test Site take the stage. And I`m still trying to put myself together emotionally from Valkyrie`s onslaught when Test Site begins LAYING FUCKING WASTE. I could watch this one-two punch of a bill every night. They are ferocious and the crowd gives it right back to them. By the final song of their set, everyone on and off the stage is practically foaming at the mouth.
Bible of the Devil - And now BotD too?! How am I supposed to keep this up? Thank god there`s vitamin C in the lime wedges I`m shoving into Tecate after Tecate. That`s good for me, right? Oh god, I`m going to die. BotD wails and dives out of the rafters like eagles with bombs in their claws. Pfffwang! Pffffwang! Those are the muscle fibers in the back of my neck letting go. I`ll be paralyzed tomorrow.
Things get dark again. I`m especially sad to say I missed most of Throttlerod. I love those guys, as a band and as people, and they never, ever disappoint live. I`m sure this was no exception.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
The third day is where the adrenalin cuts out and sheer stubborn determination gets you through. A belly-busting meal of famous Ironworks barbecue and more Lone Star beers didn`t hurt. I think the tomato in my bloody mary was the only vegetable to have passed my lips when I was in Texas. Hang on, tomatoes are technically fruit. Damn! It was worse than I thought.
More cancellations. We knew about Sasquatch, but then we heard Artimus Pyledriver was out as well. Fate seems to be keeping me from seeing the mighty AP, as this is the third time I`ve had the opportunity and one thing or another has gotten in the way. But there were plenty of heavy-hitters lined up for tonight, not to mention an eclectic bill overall.
Giant Squid - Emissions` first cello? Has to be. An unexpected twist here. Atmospheric in the vein of Neurosis, but with more lilt, fewer empty spaces, and less time spent on building the mood. Howling vocals and feedback drips from the guitar. I like it.
Unfortunaut - Thick and heavy, moody and wonderfully elusive. This is truly "indie metal," but without any of the derivativeness or non-committal mushiness that haunts other bands to whom this label has been applied. No weaknesses here. These guys are top-notch and you can hear their passion for what they do.
Ironclad - Emissions is always full of surprises. Some aren`t quite pleasant, like the downstairs toilet at Nyabinghi on day three. But many are and this year`s pleasant surprise were locals Ironclad, featuring our own Danny G on guitar. And damn, can he play the hell out of that thing. Blistering, swaggering hard rock like an eruption from a mountain no one realized was a volcano until their faces started melting off. Thanks to Stoned D as well, as his suggestion to Greg eventually got Ironclad on the bill at the last minute, to the delight of everyone lucky enough to see them.
RPG - I`ve lost track of how many times I`ve seen RPG. But these road warriors literally get better each and every time. They are the consummate hard rock band now. They own the stage. They make it look effortless. And goddamn, do they rock. One of the best sets I`ve ever seen them play and this Saturday night crowd, a huge improvement over the light Friday turnout, are loudly appreciative.
Middian - Can Mike do any wrong? Another band, another stunning success. Bowel-blowing heavy and relentless.
Another bad stroke of luck, as the 14+ hours of tequila and vodka drinking finally catch up with an Emissions-goer and he begins getting the stinkeye from one of the bouncers. Rather than take a chance on an ugly scene, I decide it`s time he and I make a graceful, quiet exit and call it a night. (The Emo`s staff were great the whole weekend, to my knowledge, and the bouncer in question even told the drunk the next day, "You were just having more fun than anyone else. You`re the best retard I`ve had to deal with.") But the unhappy ending is that we miss, of all bands, the mighty Dixie Witch. And on their home turf! Alas, such are the vagaries of Emissions and booze.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Here we separate the mutants from the boys. No gas in the tank. Every organ in your body is telling you to eat some raw vegetables and go to bed for 72 hours. Traitors! Pussies! THE ROCK DOESN`T STOP!
And neither do the food and booze. A big group outing to the famous Tex Mex joint Chuy`s became a half-hour, margarita-fueled wait for a table followed by more margaritas and enough food to make a bear bulimic. And did I mention more margaritas? Fucking Texas, man.
Another day, another cancellation. It`s becoming almost darkly funny. This time, it`s a particularly sore blow - Delicious. My North Carolina brothers and their loping, spacey instrumental jams would`ve been the perfect palate cleanser on this night of black beasts. But it wasn`t meant to be.
Hognose - I know it may not have looked it as I sat in one of Emo`s chairs, face slack, eyes red and glazed, mouth open. But I enjoyed the hell out of Hognose`s set. Dirty, filthy, swinging rock that spews whiskey and sweat with every pump of its fist. And thanks to our own worthless_willie for seeking me out in my fog to say hello. I hadn`t gotten my base alcohol levels up to the point where I was ambulatory when they finished.
Suzukiton - A rare appearance outside Richmond is something to be savored. Guitar heroics, mathy chop-and-run, and precise, blistering drums (courtesy of Big Shirley). I fucking love seeing Suzukiton play.
Skeletonwitch - I`m outside in Emo`s roomy courtyard, sucking down beer frantically as I realize I`m on that dangerous razor`s edge that only occurs on Emissions Day 4 - my body is begging me to stop. My eyes want to close. My asshole wants to stop burning. It would be so easy just to lie down and rest. Just lie down and let the darkness close over me... "Hey man, Skeletonwitch is going on. You`re gonna want to check that out." An angel`s words from out of nowhere. Actually, not out of nowhere and hardly an angel. It was deelaw and his instructions were good ones. Skeletonwitch unleashed a black metal war, a shock-and-awe wave of the Devil`s own stormtroopers, whose boots kicked and stomped us right in the face. And we begged for more. This was one of the single fiercest nut-crushers of a metal set I`ve ever seen and may have been the highlight of the entire festival for me, if you put a gun to my head and made me choose. Absolutely unholy.
Black Cobra - I wasn`t prepared for the blowtorch onslaught of Black Cobra. How the fuck are those two guys making that much noise?! Sludge and hardcore slamming together like waves in opposing oceans, tortured vocals rising from the spray. Brutality, all tempos, no waiting. Would dearly love to see them again.
Weedeater - Another great band that just keeps getting better. The Sunday night crowd had gradually swelled, so there were plenty of heads to be blown for this one. And damn, did they ever. I don`t think I`ve ever seen Weedeater completely own a room like that before. I don`t have to tell you how it goes - Dave`s almost frightening intensity, the subterranean growl and swing of the guitar, the juggernaut drums. This was Weedeater at their best, like a heavyweight champ pouring it on when faced with the big fight. Haymaker after haymaker.
Blue Cheer - Blue Cheer are loud. Really, really, REALLY fucking loud. I made it about halfway through their set, which was surprisingly good, but the darkness had finally won. It was time to make the death march back to the motel.
So Emissions was over. On top of the Heironymous Bosch hell of the airport, the long flight, and the waiting traffic on the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway, I also had to deal with the knowledge that Emissions, as an idea and event, was over. It was hard to grasp. No more long days and nights drinking with so many great people, most of whom I only see on Memorial Day weekend? No more heavy music paradise of lineup after lineup sporting the best underground rock known to man? It was a sore trial for my battered spirit and bruised brain.
So imagine my joy when I read a few days later that Emissions would go on! The music, the people, the atmosphere, the venue had all been so good that Greg was moved to consider putting on Emissions in Austin again. I`m selfishly thrilled, but I also think it`s a great move all around. Austin is an unparalleled headquarters for live music and as the festival gains a reputation, the relatively low turnout will no longer be an issue. Emissions lives!
So there you have it. Another epic weekend of the greatest music festival on earth. A new town, a new venue, rampant cancellations, nothing can stop this monster and you should fall to your knees in thanks that you will get another chance to witness its glory. Gird your liver now. May is less than a year away.
