Dateline: San Francisco, CA, USA
Date: 2001, August 11
Venue: Maritime Hall
Review by Mobius Metallicus
Thrash of the Titans held the promise of being a special event. The benefit concert for cancer stricken Chuck Billy of Testament and Chuck Schuldiner of Death had been sold out for weeks. (That's 1800 tix at $50 a pop for those keeping score at home) Bands reformed for the first time since their original incarnation (Death Angel), flew in from far away (Anthrax), and there was hope for rekindling a few good moments since lost to time. However, all I needed to know about the night happened before I even entered Maritime Hall.
Given a finite tolerance for drunken metalheads at this stage of life, I tried to arrive late enough to miss at least two, hopefully three bands. The show started at 4pm. At 5:40pm I walked uphill to the corner of Harrison and First streets. There was Gary Holt of Exodus and another guy. Gary was wearing long, baggy, black shorts with white double stitching, and wrap around sunglasses. The chain to his trucker wallet swung freely with each stride. He wore a Stuck Mojo bowling shirt and his scalp was still a bit red from what looked like a very recent cherry/black dye job. To his credit Gary has taken care of himself. He doesn't look at all like an almost 40-year old. In fact, he looks like someone who has a life outside of metal. This observation would keep me firmly anchored in 2001 throughout the night.
When I entered, Billy Milano was on stage emceeing in true New York style, saying "fuck, fucken, fucker," etc… every fifth word or so. Then he introduced the third band of the night, Sadus. "D'oh!" I still got there too early, but late enough for a bathroom sink to already be splattered in blood. By the end of the night the restroom floor was an inch deep with dark, brackish water. It reminded me of the bathrooms at a Raider playoff game I went to last year. For a professional sporting event, that was a lot like being at Ruthie's Inn... but I digress.
I went up to the balcony to sit, write, and rest for presumably bigger things to come. During this time I found out that I'd missed Flotsam and Jetsam as well as Heathen. The guy who told me this said "duuude, you missed Flots?" I had no idea they were worth seeing. They were unspecial when I saw them in 1990 with Prong so they weren't high on my "came to see" list.
I don't know who played in Heathen, but I do know that lead guitarist, Doug Piercy, stayed in Germany, so there was no Guitarmony to be had. Later that night I was talking to a 20-year old kid who flew all the way from Boston to see Heathen. "The rest is just gravy..." he said. I couldn't hide my shock. I asked why he liked Heathen so much. His answer sounded like garden variety fan adulation, but the lingering puzzle remains… Why would a bright, fresh faced, short haired kid that's an Applied Mathematics major at MIT fly 3000 miles to see Heathen?!!!! (at best, a competent thrash band in their day) "Someone get the me the President on line one, we have a Code Red emergency… Who's an idiot? Oh, I see... in that case, skip the President, get me the National Security Advisor..."
Meanwhile, Sadus charged through their set of death tinged thrash as a 3-piece. I will say Steve DiGiorgio is still amazing. A few times he went fully ambidextrous, playing keyboard with the right hand while plucking the bass strings with the left. That said, no fewer than three people were asleep at the same time within five feet of me in the balcony chairs during their set.
Forbidden Evil (aka Forbidden) were always a good, not great Bay Area thrash band. Sufficiently complex songs, 80's metal vocals, but a frontman with the stage presence of a keyboardist. He stood there, hit his notes, but rarely modulated his physical presence or energy. The bands chops were a just bit soft too, understandable given the one time nature of the show. Paul Bostaph (now of Slayer, then of Forbidden) joined them on drums for the second half of the set. It didn't make a discernible difference.
Death Angel was the most curious crossover between then and now. Half of the members are in a current band, Swarm, so there was still long hair -- dreads to be exact -- and a very confident stage presence. They played decent renderings of "Thrashers" and "Kill as One," but unfortunately, the set was most memorable for Mark Osegueda's prolonged interludes of "we're so cool for being here" banter. He showed no desire to shut up and play the music. He may one day challenge Lars Ulrich for the "Muzzle Me, please!!!" award. I really liked Death Angel in 1984-85. It was good to hear those tunes live again, but the sea of well worn faces, receding hairlines and beer fed paunches still made it clear that this was not 1985.
Further proof of that came next when Exodus played the sloppiest set I've ever seen them perform. The band gaffed several time changes and Bayloff missed or crossed up entire lyrical stanzas. To be fair, I was numb and saturated by the noise at this time so maybe it was just me. Even if they were great, I might not have noticed. "Piranha" still got me moving, but I was puzzled by the exclusion of "Strike of the Beast." I surmise that number was being saved for the encore that never happened. Where the March of '97 show at the Trocadero was dead on -- Exodus as good as they ever were -- this show was Exodus dead on arrival.
NOTE: If this review is beginning to seem a little long, just imagine being there. This was the show that "went to eleven" -- as in 11 continuous hours of drunken headbangers and vintage thrash music regurgitated from the Reagan era. I almost wanted to hear "We Are the World" just for comic relief.
Speaking of such, Billy Milano did his thing between every band's set and he's actually pretty good with the shtick. Not at all PC, but funny often enough to get way with it. His abundant references to aging, geritol, the metal "family" coming together, etc… were wholly forgivable under the circumstances.
Milano also fronts S.O.D., whom I'd never seen before, but was quite impressed by after witnessing their tight, energetic and genuinely funny performance. Their recent album and tour activity no doubt helped in this cause. My favorite moment was Milano's parody of guitarist Scott Ian interviewing rock stars on VH1: "So Henry, I have to tell you, this new one is my favorite Rollins Band record, ever..."
Anthrax played a good set with seasoned frontman John Bush. "I'm the Man," "Bring the Noise," "Indians" and just for 1983's sake, "Metal Thrashing Mad" were among the songs played… I never loved Anthrax back in the day, but liked them well enough. Seeing them for the first time in many years was kind of like running into someone from the past that I *almost* got into a relationship with, but decided not to pursue. Despite possessing many of the traits I like, all the things that marginalized Anthrax for me then are still present.
During Anthrax's set I took a walk and encountered several dozen people who were collapsed in the stairwells from chemical and physical exhaustion. While out there I talked to a 32 year old computer science PhD who works for one of the big technology companies in the Bay Area. He used to love the Bay Area metal scene, but his IQ was showing… he seemed bored.
Vio-lence was a big surprise as they were as tight as when I'd seen them at the Omni many moons ago. They played a 1-hour set that went over extremely well. Sean Killian, et al. delivered with the intensity of youth and the confidence of mature adults. I smell a comeback for these guys. They sounded too good, too well rehearsed for this to be a one off gig. Time will tell.
It was after 2am when Legacy came on stage and opened with "Disciples of the Watch." Vocalist Steve Souza still sounds like Bon Scott. Fine for AC/DC, but always seemed wrong in the context of thrash. Once an aspiring guitar god, Alex Skolnick now sported a fresh buzz cut. He asynchronously churned rather than banged his head to the rhythm and played like a guy that's been giving guitar lessons to children for a few years, though he's still better than most guys ever live to be. After their second song, "Alone in the Dark," the cumulative sonic saturation had conquered my endurance and I sped off with Quintana to start Rampage Radio at KUSF -- we were already late when we departed. Word was Chuck Billy came out and did a few Testament songs after we left. No other cameos of note were reported and the cabaret segment of the show wrapped up around 3:00am.
People flew in from Japan, Europe, and all over the United States for this show. I wonder if they were as underwhelmed as I was by the marathon? Though mostly enjoyable, the sum was not equal to the parts. When Quintana and I left at 2:15am, about a third of the crowd had already dispersed. The meaning of the term metal fatigue had been renewed in a way that neither my friends who are materials scientists nor Alan Holdsworth had ever quite conveyed.
After an hour of spinning Bay Area Thrash oldies and other obscura I finally went home. It's 2001 AD, I'm halfway to 70, and though I still have all -- and I mean ALL-- of my metal records and memorabilia from back in the day, it's no longer the focus of my life. The ideals of those early days *do* live on though: individuality, independence, a healthy disrespect for authority figures, and the quest for relevance and meaning in a culture that emphasizes fickle fads and indiscriminate obedience to media hype. Onwards, forwards, to the future and all that remains.
Mobius Metallicus is a washed up tech worker who was there the first time these bands thrashed around Bay Area clubs.
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