In Long Beach, I made my way to the stage left side of the pit area because it just seemed right. That is, it was the right side where lead guitarists hang out which was my experience that I was hoping would apply to the bands performing that night in 2006. Yesterday's show at the Verizon Wireless Amphitheater had plenty of seats and little pit area. Although my tickets were one deck farther, I still managed to enjoy the Slayer performance more than any other band last night.
And I wasn't tired of standing, holding my ground, being squished and straining to breathe, dehydrating, and watching out for falling people from the sky.
I wanted to catch a listen to the song FINAL SIX, but I barely was able to recognize the songs I've been listening to lately from the CHRIST ILLUSION CD. Tom Araya has got one of the nicest personalities when addressing the audience to introduce one of his songs. When I learned that Kerry King takes a major role in writing the lyrics to the bands songs‡ I was certain that Slayer would be my all time favorite bands. I argue with friends that it's not so much an old school thing. This is a band that has taken music to a futuristic level. Maybe I didn't learn to appreciate heavy metal when I should have, back in the day when I was bored senseless, but when you consider how soothing a track from yesteryear sounds, it's hard not to wonder if the statement being sent by THRASH metal bands isn't that they're the future. So, making great music for our children goes hand in hand with making a livable environment for them as well. Where Bush gets off making war against an axis of evil seems rhetorical because of Slayers dedication of MANDATORY to the troops.
There was a crazy lunatic slam dancing alone with a kick boxing technique being escorted away the moment Bleeding through took the stage. The space where the people standing in the pit was small, and according to the first band that performed, most all the fanatical dancing took place on the lawn level, way up high where the music can barely be felt. A Manson fan, clad in black with excentric black hair, make-up, stud jewelry and a flask filled with Jack kindly offered me a swig, but I declined claiming I was OK. The drive on the freeway was totally entertaining as well as a flock of about four or five pigeons flew overhead and one of them took a
corkscrew dive death spiral landing on the asphalt waiting to be splattered. I didn't catch sight of the truck that might've clipped the poor bird, and maybe it just happened to have had a heart attack, but ironically enough, when Manson came on, feathers began to rain down from the sky.