More loud, more sweat, and a bloody tampon as props to witches.
With a massively battered body I embarked upon Day two of Chaos in Tejas; somewhat fearful of what additional bruising the day would bring. My sore joints will serve as my excuse for missing the day show and the beginning of the night show at the Mohawk. Really, who needs any of that when there is a 25 person pool party happening at the Super 8 despite the warning signs indication the pool's closure til six pm due to fecal contamination? Everyone figured it was a bluff to keep us out of the pool. I didn't find out about the warning until I had dunked my head under the deep end, but really, can fecal matter stand up to the powers of chlorine? This is a question I probably shouldn't have to ask.
Show-wise the evening started off much like the previous one, watching Japanese punk bands play at the Mohawk. This time it was Skizophrenia and Forward on the bill both opening up for headliner Municipal Waste. I had spent too long marinating in chlorinated shit water so I missed Mauser. Skizophrenia was amazing, they were one of the most anticipated bands at the fest and no one was let down. Forward was solid but nothing could really follow up Skizophrenia.
There were some technical issues and the singer ended up without a mic for two songs. There was lots of pointing instead. In fact between the punk shows and the metal show I went to there was a lot of ominous finger pointing in general.
I high-tailed it out of the Mohawk before Dropdead went on because I didn't feel like listening to someone chastise me for wearing leather. I like Dropdead, they are kind of an institution at this point and I've probably seen them about a dozen times over the years, but I just can't get behind a band that spends more time explaining the politics behind their songs than actually playing them. I went to Cheer Up Charlie’s for a change of pace and saw Martial Canterel.
Sean McBride is a genius. Martial Canterel is always great as is his other project Xeno & Oaklander. Plus these are the kind of projections I can get behind at shows. Look! An abstract light show instead of Holy Mountain. Thanks Austin!
This guy made my night. It was kind of like being at the weekly Wierd party except it was outdoors and this magical dancing man had two legs and the one in NYC only has one (the other is a prosthetic in case you were wondering how a one legged man dances.)
Okay, so the Vibram toe shoes I've been seeing everywhere may be a bummer but one major upside to a super health conscious hippy town? Kombucha on tap at bars. For the non-boozing type this is greatest thing ever.
I caught the first half of Chelsea Wolfe's set before I hustled back to Red River to try to catch Breakdown at Club Deville. I managed to see the last song and then wandered back to the Mohawk where Municipal Waste was playing. The two venues are right next to each other, which is kind of intense, when there are two competing outdoor hardcore shows.
I probably don't need to explain what Municipal Waste is like live. Well choreographed mayhem, consummate mosh pros, they are the hype men of thrash.
Right after the stroke of midnight I made my way down the street to Red Seven and saw a very different type of Japanese band. Doom masters Church of Misery presented me with the sweatiest, smelliest crowd yet. Plus they wore bell-bottoms and had a frizzy-haired white guy playing guitar. The singer was amped about opening for Saint Vitus and yelled out their name between every other song. Heck, I would be too. But despite the constant reminder or the legends yet to come they more than held their own with their Pagan Altar brand of psychedelic doom coupled with harsh vocals.
The previous night was capped off with the beautiful lifers Fred and Toody Cole and another lifer, Wino, capped off this night. I'm not the type of girl to idolize musicians. I've never been a groupie, dating dudes in bands usual sucks and they usually cheat. I have no aspirations of marrying a rock star, but holy shit do I have a thing for the ultimate spirit doom psychedelic warrior god Wino. I mean come on, what's not to love? Saint Vitus is classic and his band The Obsessed wrote one of the best primitive doom songs ever, "Iron and Stone." Every time I see one of his bands play I feel like Patricia Arquette in True Romance because the only words that enter my mind are "you're so cool."
Yes, that's a bloody tampon hanging from his mic stand. Someone in the crowd asked him about it after he gave a shout-out to all the witches in the house (my words, not his) and played "Mystic.: He said is was from a practitioner of the black arts. Whatever, I still swooned when he touched my shoulder. Seriously, I think it's actually the first time in my adult life I've ever swooned.
Of course Saint Vitus isn't just the Scott Weinrich show. Dave Chandler is the founding guitar player and primary songwriter. Plus his hair flows so beautifully when hit by a giant offstage fan. They played for an hour. I caught a drumstick during the encore. I'm officially fanning out.
Seriously. You're so cool, you're so cool...
Day 2 Breakdown:
Show count - 4
Band count - 8
Bands watched - Skizophrenia, Forward, Martial Canterel, Chelsea Wolfe, Breakdown, Municipal Waste, Church of Mystery, Saint Vitus
Set of the day - Skizophrenia
Best accessories - Wino
Injuries sustained - further hip bruising plus and an accidental pit punch in the face during Skizophrenia, possible fecal contamination from the Super 8 swimming pool, dysentery may be immanent.
Previously: Chaos Daily Dispatch #1