What happened Monday? Well I went to a gig. It wasn't a massive one, it wasn't sold out, but it is one of the best evenings in my life.
I've been going to gigs properly since I was 18, particularly when I lived in Manchester and the small venues where you get a lot of heavy metal shows were within walking (staggering?) distance home afterwards. Soil, Mad Capsule Markets, HIM, Ill Nino, Chimaira, Spineshank, CKY... the tickets were bought on a whim for something to do and they opened my world up to the amazing experience that is a live heavy metal show. The unwritten but universally known rules that stop you from getting smushed into a pulp in an environment where all common sense says you should avoid. Maybe that's part of the rush? The knowledge that you could in all possibility get seriously hurt if someone should lose it a bit too much. Yes I've been accidentally elbowed in the throat in a pit, and been kicked in the side of the head by a crowdsurfer wearing New Rock boots, but on each occassion I've got into trouble some massive "scary" biker type bloke has hoiked me out of the way of trouble and made sure I was OK before carrying on with their evening. Where else would you get that? Certainly not at more mainstream events.
Monday night was the Black Parade.
Bleeding Through, Hatebreed and Machine Head.
Now I love MH and am also rather partial to some Hatebreed. I've seen MH before, when they were supporting Slipknot - the night in Sheffield when Phil Demmel passed out on stage during their set. They were awesome then, but I was quite far back in a large arena so I didn't really feel the atmosphere. Monday was different, I worked my way into the front row to the left of stage and stayed there, not even going out for a smoke. Not quite touching distance but still an amazing view of the guys who are my favourite band on the planet.
What followed from the opening notes of Clenching the Fists of Descent was what I can only describe as a religious experience. Every second lasted for an eternity yet in no time at all it was over leaving me with a burning need for more, but not in an 'oh it's over' way, I just never want to forget that feeling.
The worst thing about depression, I feel, is the total lack of feeling, the sense of just existing from one day to the next and being generally indifferent about everything. To spend an entire evening of my life feeling so completely alive is priceless, something to cherish. I admit I still haven't come down from the buzz, and while I'm no longer grinning idiotically at totally inopportune moments as I remember Robb Flynn signing off with the words "cheers motherfuckers, cheers" I've managed to hold on to a good feeling for two whole days afterwards.
The comparison with religion came to me while I was there actually, during a part where the crowd was asked to show their middle fingers, and lo and behold every fucking person there had them in air thanks to the command of one man on the stage. Call me blasphemous or heretical if you will, but how is this different from any of the other various rituals that go on across the world in the name of religion? One person requests an action, the crowd follow blindly with the comfort that being a part of something brings. Well I was disillusioned with religion a long time ago, and who I am, the parts of me that I've cried and screamed about and tried to deny to no avail will send me to damnation. It appears to me that Heavy Metal is my religion.
So as long as I live I'm going to throw up my devil horns, headbang with the best of them and scream my heart out to songs written from the heart because they mean something to me, they make me feel human. Trust me when I say that it's something special indeed.
I shall leave you with the set list from MH, and probably continue this after some sleep when I can type.
