Concert review: Hatebreed (Live at Toad's Place) 12-8-17

     
 Hometown Hardcore: Hatebreed (Dying Fetus, Code Orange) Live @ Toad's Place

[HATEBREED takes the stage at Toad's Place.]

     Hometown shows are, simply put, some of the most energetic and passion-filled concerts I have ever seen. If you’ve ever been in attendance at one of these rare events, you know exactly what I mean: for perhaps one night on a fifty-city tour, a band finds themselves playing in front of their home crowd – who show up in force. I’ve survived a few. However, there is nothing (and I mean nothing) anywhere, at all, EVER, that can match the intensity of a Hatebreed concert in New Haven, CT. What happens when you combine the most reckless, skull-stomping hardcore band in the world with one of the most timeless venues in America? Follow me through the tangled one-way streets of the Elm City….

     Toad’s Place has achieved an almost legendary status in many music circles. Aside from being a major outlet for local musicians since the mid 70’s, Toad’s has played host to an incredible number of famous acts through the years – in fact, far too many to list on this simple concert review. A simple walk around the dimly lit, dark interior of the small club reveals their proud history: concert posters with faces of Billy Idol, U2 and Snoop Dogg line the upstairs walls while the downstairs hallways hold the names of dozens more artists and bands who have chosen to grace this small New Haven stage over time. Yet for all this splendor, Toad’s is an extremely simple concert venue. In fact, I would go as far as to say that it is even a bit divey. The ceilings are low, the walkways are crammed, and there seems to be an overriding aura of grime and grease that pervades the whole scene – a testament to its years and years of stumbling patronage. The building itself is not built for live music – that is to say, there is no acoustics or architectural amplification at all. To account for this lack of natural sound resonance, Toad’s simply added more artificial noise: three massive towers of speakers stare menacingly at the crowd from the ceiling. The sound here is absolutely deafening. I have heard others complain about this dingy feeling (or losing hearing for three days post-concert), but it has never bothered me. Concerts are about sweat and mess, and Toad’s embodies that spirit exceptionally well. On no single night is it more powerful than when New Haven’s own Hatebreed take the stage.

     This tour was due to be an absolute slaughter form the start. Hatebreed was hitting the road to celebrate the 20^th anniversary of their debut album Satisfaction is the Death of Desire and the 15^th anniversary of their sophomore album Perseverance – both widely considered to be metalcore classics. To celebrate, they would play both albums in their entirety. Hatebreed would be joined by vulgar slam metal veterans Dying Fetus and the new kids on the hardcore block, Code Orange – both excellent choices for brutal, moshy support. Naturally my friends Luke and Zak were beyond excited to attend this show as a trio. We headed to the battleground on a cold December evening with anticipation in our hearts. Earlier that day, the show had sold out. It was going to be heavy, rowdy, and crowded – that’s for sure.

[CODE ORANGE smashes Toad's Place with their new hardcore groove.]

    

     Code Orange seem to be the heir apparent to the modern hardcore throne. Their music, like Hatebreed’s, fuses hardcore, punk and metal into a slamming sound that makes you want to rip floorboards out of the ground. 2017 has seen extensive touring for the band – supporting acts such as Gojira, Trivium, and Meshuggah has helped these five kids from Pittsburgh (and I say kids intentionally – they are all very young) and their heavy tunes garner a lot of attention. The title track from their latest album Forever was recently nominated for the 2017 Grammy for best metal performance. Luke, Zak and I were especially excited to see them play live because we missed them open the show for Gojira this past October – our Code Orange fix was more than two months overdue. At Toad’s, we witnessed an excellent performance. Code Orange’s music is sludgy and slower than most of what I personally listen to. Though they slice through 3 or 4 minute tracks like a hot jackhammer through butter, their songs never achieve any breakneck speeds. There are no screaming guitar solos or furious riffing – instead, the music is heavily driven by the calculated, slow-tempo

[Jami Morgan on vocals and drums.]

slams of drummer/vocalist Jami Morgan. This drum/vocal performance was a real highlight of the show for me and something I have seen very few times before. While Morgan sticks away song after song with intensity and dexterity, he delivers screamed vocals from behind the drum set as well. His attention to detail –demonstrated by this left-brain right-brain multitasking – is quite impressive. He takes time in between songs to shout out classic hardcore babble to the crowd: his cheers of “Get off of your fucking feet right fucking now!” “We are Code fucking Orange! Move this place!” are enough to start a riot in the small venue. The rest of the band chugs away with equal passion. Tracks such as “Bleeding in the Blur” bring guitarist Reba Meyers to the microphone to deliver some gristly clean vocals which do not detract from the intensity of the music at all. 
Interestingly, Code Orange’s stage equipment also includes a full synthesizer, played intermittently by the band's newest addition, guitarist Dominic Landolina. In between concrete-solid breakdowns, Landolina hops on the synth to deliver creepy, wobbly electronic vibratos that give the band an eerie transition from song to song. Orange-beareded bassist Joe Goldman looms over the crowd, screaming sans-microphone into the hundreds of fists in the air. He is quite a sight on stage – sporting black jeans and a simple white wife beater, he often crosses the entire stage in three or four gigantic steps, firing up both right and left sides. The pit absolutely loved it, and Luke and I had a lot of fun slamming and kicking around for a few songs. Though Code Orange’s image and music is hardcore to the core, they truly got a handful of metalheads on their feet. “My World” was absolute bloodshed. I am very glad I was finally able to see thing youthful, hungry band play live. I have a feeling that they will soon be a household name in the metal community. 

     

     Without listening to a second of their music, I bet you know exactly how Dying Fetus sounds – and no, your parents will not like it. The group (primarily a trio) formed in Maryland in the early 1990’s and has been on a tear of vulgar devastation ever since. Their brutal brand of death metal is characterized by up-tempo blast beats and complex technical arrangements. Sections of a Dying Fetus song can go from fast-paced guitar gallops to crushing, slow riffs in a matter of seconds – a testament to the musical craftsmanship of lone original member, John Gallagher. Gallagher is an extremely proficient guitarist whose fingers sweep up an entire fretboard with ease. Sections of songs like “Invert the Idols” and crowd-favorite “Shepherd’s Commandment” are great displays of this intense technical ability (which of course, looks effortless in the hands of Gallagher.) What is more impressive, however, is that he also performs vocals while playing. His unintelligible grunt (more of a guttural dog bark) has become synonymous with the band’s music. He is accompanied by equally proficient bassist Sean Beasley, who also frets away at an incredible pace. Beasley, who barely moves the entire show, seems to play on autopilot from under his mane of

[My (awesome) WWI themed Dying Fetus
long sleeve.]

long black hair. His vocal accompaniment covers high range screams. These two guitarists stand at opposite ends of the stage leaving drummer Trey Williams the middle of the scene. It is difficult to believe that only three musicians can make so much damn noise. In fact, what was most incredible about this (or any) Dying Fetus performance – aside from blisteringly fast guitar work and technical drumming – is that the band stands alone as a three-piece. Even limited to only one drummer, one bassist and one guitarist, Dying Fetus still manages to spew out some of the heaviest death metal in the modern scene. Their latest release, Wrong One to Fuck With, received widespread critical acclaim. The fans in the crowd that night loved it too. After desperately snagging the few pictures you see here, I had to join the swirling mosh. “Subjected to a Beating”, my personal favorite DF song was an absolute bruiser. The pit had lost some of its kung-fu hardcore charm and had quickly evolved into an all-out death metal shove fest. When put in the mix with Code Orange and Hatebreed, Dying Fetus seems to be the only metal act on a clearly hardcore-oriented bill. However, the trio was able to play well into the chanting arms of this bloodthirsty New Haven crowd. As circle pits whipped and fists and bodies flew, Dying Fetus ripped away through a long setlist and successfully introduced Toad’s to their signature slam metal sound in epic fashion.

     


By the time Dying Fetus had cleared the stage, the sold-out venue had truly begun its descent into claustrophobia. The small GA floor had grown significantly more crowded since Code Orange left the stage, and Toad’s begun to take the form of the perilous sweatbox I am more familiar with. A walk to the bathroom (once a simple task) was basically incomprehensible at this point – unless you fancied a half-hour struggle. Closer to the stage, the crowd packed tighter and tighter together and the anticipation of brutality was drawn as tight as a rubber band– soon, there was to be an insane release. 

[Toad's Place crowd photo courtesy of @hatebreed Instagram.]

     Once the lights cut to black, that notorious hole in the center of the crowd expanded and grew to enormous size – it would not disappear for the remainder of the night. From the first moment the five members swarmed the stage, the crowd went absolutely ballistic. It was nuts– I have to speak so frankly – the mosh pit literally erupted only seconds into their first song. Just as the room had begun to shake and pulse with the explosive riffs of “Empty Promises,” frontman Jamey Jasta stands center stage and is clearly visible for the first time. “Stop! Stop! Woah!” He commands. The music is suddenly cut off as quickly as it began. Apparently, he had noticed a fan lose their footing and fall to the ground in the sea of fists and fury. “Pick’m up! Get’m up! You good? Good? Okay!” He declares, smile on his face. The band laughs it off as well – another fan barely escapes a brutal fate at the Hatebreed concert. They regain form and quickly roll into their second tune, “Burn the Lies”, and the show continues as if nothing has happened. This was one of the most miraculous things I have ever seen at a concert. Of course, I have seen a front man stop a show to tell the crowd to help out their fellow fan who may have fallen or lost footing…but during the energy and intensity of the first song? Less than two minutes into the show, Hatebreed had stopped playing to help rescue a fan who surely would have been injured had they remained in a compromised position. That’s unheard of. One perspective says that Jamey is a cognizant and caring frontman. Another perspective says that the show at Toad’s was out of control. I think it was both.

     This hiccup did nothing to stop the epic machine that was already rolling at full-steam. Hatebreed continued seamlessly, opening with the first four tracks off of Satisfaction. As Jasta delivers his trademark hardcore drawl at breakneck pace, founding member and certified shredder Wayne Lozniak rips away at riff after riff on a gorgeous black Les Paul. Because most of Hatebreed’s music follows the same simple song structure, it is amazing that Wayne is able to mentally distinguish between the hundreds of Hatebreed songs – “Before Dishonor” has this breakdown and “Puritain” has that breakdown, and so on and so forth. Because the music itself does not show an immense amount of artistic variation, it takes a fair amount of skill to be able to memorize and perform 20 nearly identical songs without a single mistake. Periodically, he steps to the microphone to deliver some of Hatebreed’s classic gang vocals with sheer ferocity. Frank Novinec, the newest member of the band (if you consider a 16 year member new…) matches Wayne’s guitar intensity while also offering several subtle head-nods at the crowd. While the two guitarists remain silent and steadfast most of the show, bassist and founding member Chris Beattie is extremely energetic. He offers the head of his bass to the crowd several times, pulling his instrument away from the hundreds of screaming fans just in time to deliver another crunchy Hatebreed bassline.

[ From L to R: Chris Beattie, Jamey Jasta, and Wayne Lozniak.]

     About halfway through the show, Jamey and the band stop to address the crowd and thank them for selling out their hometown venue. He briefly speaks on the significance of this show – each band member is from the surrounding area and grew up attending shows at Toad’s Place themselves. Though Hatebreed played several shows at Toads while they were a local band, Jamey reminds the crowd that the roots of Hatebreed run much deeper - through the skateparks and neighborhood basement shows found all over "the 203". At the end of the day, they are just a handful of guys from Connecticut that know how to make some kick-ass hardcore music. Jamey also offered a heartfelt tribute to “Dimebag” Darrel Abbott of Pantera – one of the most celebrated guitarists in metal music history – who was tragically murdered while performing on stage 13 years ago this very night. The crowd roars – an absolutely deafening blast of sound, and Hatebreed rips into the crowd-pleaser “Last Breath” – dedicated to Dime. Crowd interactions such as this are extremely common at Hatebreed shows, which is something fans truly love. Jasta is excellent at firing up his audience. Every crowdsurfer (including myself during “Looking Down the Barrell of Today”) gets a high-five or a fist bump from Jasta himself, even if he must stretch out over the crowd for it.

     More than ninety minutes later, the crowd has not relented a single bit. Feet still fly through the air, circle pits expand and contract to encompass almost all of the standing room, and sweaty, satisfied fans scream along with every word. As the setlist grows and the night begins to wind down, Jamey pauses a final time to introduce all of the Hatebreed members on stage – also giving their Connecticut hometown, much to the pleasure of the fans who revel in knowing that these performers might have lived down the block from them. As a special treat, Hatebreed brings out ex-guitarist Sean Martin (who played guitars on Perseverance) for several songs. Martin hasn’t lost a beat. He joins his friends on stage and chugs through the final three classic Perseverance tracks with ease.

     

     Though hardcore music has never truly been my cup of tea, you have to give credit when credit is due – and Hatebreed deserves a lot of it. Their music, while simply structured and breakdown driven, is stompingly heavy and surprisingly catchy. Their jaunty, upbeat riffs will break the neck of even the most elitist death metal aficionado while crowd-favorite songs ignite adrenaline in diehard fans. Despite the misleading name (originally taken from a Misfits song), their 

[My (super cool) autographed copy
of Satisfaction.]

lyrics remain indomitably positive. Hatebreed seeks only to inspire personal power and determination in their fans. This ability to make the (sometimes slighted) hardcore music genre appealing to metalheads of all musical interests is mainly due to the charisma and relative celebrity of their beloved frontman, Jamey Jasta. Jasta, a New Haven native, is a metalhead to the core – which is probably why fans from so many different metal backgrounds are familiar with him and the Hatebreed music.  He has toured the world extensively with Hatebreed and his solo project, Jasta. He also hosts the popular metal podcast “The Jasta Show”, which has featured guests such as Ice T, Kirk Hammett, Jesse Leach, and Rob Halford. I met him at a live taping of this podcast this April and was able to speak to him candidly and I must admit that, for all of his celebrity, Jamey remains approachable and humble. I highly recommend "The Jasta Show" to anyone who is interested in the modern metal scene and quality, uncensored journalism.

     Hatebreed has long since left behind the days of being a local band. Currently, we would be talking about a band that headlines major festivals across the US and abroad – even having played in countries such as Indonesia, South Korea, and Russia. Despite this worldwide acclaim, Hatebreed still makes a choice to stop at Toad’s Place on their multi-city romp across the States. To me, this a very special statement. To this band, fans are far more important than big city ticket sales. They want to play their tunes where they know they will be loved. New Haven - their original meeting point and home base - offered an absolutely ideal location. I also have to compliment the tour managers and promoters on the choice of bands. This lineup was ridiculously heavy and even crossed genres while keeping every listener interested. I was very pleased to note that there were fans of all three bands in the crowd that night – and I am sure that the Code Orange and Dying Fetus merch tables did exceptionally well. However, no matter which band you came to see, this was decidedly a Hatebreed concert.

Concert Review: August Burns Red (Live at the Regency Ballroom) 3-21-2016

August Burns Red Live: A Fan's Review

[Jake Luhrs, lead singer of August Burns Red in San Francisco, CA]

When I discovered that August Burns Red, one of my all-time favorite bands, was playing a show in San Francisco during my brief stay there, it was a coincidence I could not deny - and there I was happily bound.

     August Burns Red - with their blend of intricate technicality, progressive melody and punishing heaviness- create music so unique the untrained ear struggles to pin them into one genre. Something tells me that this is all part of the plan. In the past decade, their music has evolved from a sound lost in the mass of early 2000’s metalcore to a polished brutality that leaves swarms of fans stuck somewhere between banging their heads and ballroom dancing. When it comes to performing live, even the untrained listener cannot deny the spectacle that is August Burns Red in concert. I found them on tour with Between the Buried and Me at the Regency Ballroom in San Francisco, California, and I was not disappointed. In fact, I was satisfied beyond belief.

     Lead singer Jake Luhrs patrols the stage with an electrifying personality: a stage presence that blends the explosive intensity of a child on Christmas morning with the refined passion of a preacher at the pulpit. Fans truly react to this no-holds barred attitude: Luhrs does what he wishes, as he wishes, and is truly himself on stage. One of the most memorable aspects of his performance is always his unique choice of a corded microphone- which is used to its full potential. He whips his toy in gigantic, controlled circles feet in diameter, catching it just in time to make his next lyric without skipping a beat. This continuous catch and release is truly a stage spectacle, and I myself found my head following the microphone in its revolutions, mouth agape. Luhrs is so well trained at his feat that he knows just how far to move the stage guard before he begins. If this isn’t his favorite stage pastime, it is defiantly dancing.

     

     Jake’s acrobatics are only complimented and surpassed by the energy of his bandmates. Bearded bassist Dustin Davidson and barefoot lead guitarist JB Brubaker make their way around the stage during the show, each occasionally stepping onto one of three risers to deliver backing lyrics or their personal dosage of guitar madness (at one point, Davidson jumps from riser to riser to riser, covering the stage in three large bounds- all while playing.) Both are extremely talented musicians. Davidson and Brubaker have a sixth sense of who moves where and when - evidence of their near decade of collaboration together in ABR. For “Everlasting Ending,” a song written by Davidson, the two switch instruments, swapping bass for guitar, each handling the others with a dexterity that matches their own. That’s musicianship.

[Dustin Davidson gets down in San Francisco]

     
     Unlike many contemporary bands who rely on their live staples to get the crowd involved, ABR has a noticeable passion for their new music. During this show, they played five songs from their latest album “Found in Far Away Places,” including the Grammy-nominated “Identity.” FIFAP was a true resurrection of heaviness for the band. This is much thanks to guitarist Brent Rambler and drummer Matt Greiner, whose steady tempos drive the crushing breakdowns that the pit enjoys so much. As much as ABR’s music has become synonymous with JB’s sonic melodies, the head banging department is solely owned and operated by Rambler’s calculated chugging. He remains relatively silent throughout the show, but his contribution is all but unnoticed. Brent shreds effortlessly song after song, making sure that those in the crowd with their horns in the air have something to bang their heads to. Matt Greiner, one of the most accomplished drummers in the modern metal scene, is the band’s unspoken hero. I was disappointed that the lighting and my position in the crowd put Greiner in shadows for the duration of the show - he truly deserves a spotlight. Fortunately, he gets one towards the end: laying down an impressively long drum solo that runs the gamut from groovy jazz tapping to blistering blast beats. This versatility pervades ABR’s music- a ship which goes from traveling at breakneck speeds to lolling upon the waves at a second’s notice- with Greiner standing (or sitting for that matter) steadfast at the helm.

[Matt Greiner performs his drum solo]

     
     The versatility of this band is undeniable. In a second you may hear the group playing sections of music so melodious you could find them at a wedding or bar mitzvah, then rapidly switching to crowd-chanting choruses that unite the venue in song. At the end of the day, it’s energy. Energy. ABR brings energy to the stage at an unmatched level. It does not stop until the final song is over. They close out their night in San Francisco with fan (and my personal) favorite, “White Washed,” a song I have seen them open with several times. In my own personal experience, I have seen them use the same song to rip onto stage and close in memorable fashion. That’s musicianship.

[ABR in action]

   
      I was fortunate (or perhaps, just desperate) enough to meet up with Rambler, Luhrs, and Brubaker after the show near the tour bus where I waited patiently. I had the opportunity to speak at length with Brubaker and was able to delve into one of the minds behind the music I enjoy so much. We discussed what it meant to the band to be nominated for a Grammy award and why the nomination itself was perhaps more important than the win. “We were on tour in Kansas when my wife called me and told me were nominated. I called my mom, she was crying,” laughs Brubaker, “We basically found out the same way all of our fans did.” As far as the award ceremony itself goes, I gained the impression that it was somewhat of a whirlwind for five regular guys from Pennsylvania. “The Academy is a hard thing to parse through, especially for first time goers,” Brubaker said. I commented on the fact that they arrived there in style (driven by LAFD in a county firetruck) and asked about the award ceremony as a whole. “It was unbelievable to be there. It was an honor,” he noted, “but at the same time it is strange to have to pretend someone you’re not for hours on end…the suit and tie, you know?” And the closed-toed shoes, right JB?

     I was fortunate enough to meet Jake Luhrs as well and explain to him how important the music of his band is to me personally. Specifically, I mentioned the song “Beauty in Tragedy.” In early 2014, I lost my uncle (and namesake) Andrew Janz to pancreatic cancer. My father and his brother had been very close in their upbringing but had been feuding for decades, including my entire life, leading up to the decline of his health. In the final five or six months he was alive, my father stood by his brother’s side and helped him with everything from transportation to the hospital, to in-home care, to the eventual funeral arrangements. In my reality, which was very much removed from the pallor of mortality, his death was a strange and truly ethereal experience. A relative of mine was now gone, sure. But this was much different. I am named after this person, and in a way, I am this person incarnate. The only other Andrew Janz in the world has died, and for the first time in my life my own mortality was whispering in my ears. But what was it telling me? Am I meant to live up to this name, to fill these shoes? How is that possible if I have never known this person, but for stories and anecdotes? For a while I saw no direction, felt lost, and had no idea how to deal with this conflict within myself. I struggled mightily with these thoughts and for weeks they were all I could think about when my mind was idle. It was around this time that “Beauty in Tragedy,” and the lyrics written by Luhrs, began to take hold and grow true meaning within my heart. A spoken word section of the song:

“Tomorrow, the air will be a little colder. But I’ll be sure to breathe for the both of us.

And the nights may be a little darker. But I’ll be sure to carry the torch to warm the hearts that never got to feel yours.

I can’t hear your voice, I can’t hear your voice, but that’s okay. Cause I can feel you in my heart.”

     It slowly dawned on to me that there was no need, no pressure on me to fill shoes. I did not have to ‘live up’ to the name I was given and I should feel nothing but protection and admiration from the person who I know is watching me from beyond. The words in this song helped me brew coherency from confusion: I began to think with direction again. In life, the most positive thing I can possibly do is take the love and acceptance I’ve learned from others and pass it on to those closest to me. Carry the torch. Light the way for others who might be wrestling with themselves as well, because you are not alone. Though my uncle may not be here anymore his soul, spirit, and name will live on through my actions every day.

     When I explained this to Jake, he thanked me for sharing my story with him- a story about how the music of August Burns Red has helped me through an extremely difficult and perplexing time of my life. What I didn’t get the chance to say, in our brief conversation, was THANK YOU, Jake. Thank you, and your bandmates, for creating music that is positive and inspiring.

     Thank you all. Rest assured I’ll be seeing you all again soon. Catch me in the front row.

[Jake Luhrs and I on Van Ness Ave. (The Regency Ballroom in the background)]

*all photographs (unless mentioned otherwise) are property of the author and will be treated as such*