Date: Saturday, February 12, 2011
Venue: Mine Shaft Saloon, San Antonio TX
Bill: Plutonian Shore, Hexlust, Emperial Massacre, Exulcerate, The Oath
Back in November, everyone’s favorite falsetto King Diamond was hospitalized for what turned out to be some outrageously clogged arteries, prompting a triple-bypass open-heart surgery. Mr Diamond’s good friend Dave Martinez thought it would be a swell idea to raise some support money for King, so he teamed up with Hellbound Productions to set up a benefit show in San Antonio at Mine Shaft Saloon, located next to the Magic Time Machine restaurant.
“Magic Time Machine,” you enquire. “The hell’s that?” Well, imagine one of those goofy theme restaurants snuck out of Disney World and has been hiding out just off an expressway in San Antonio. Guests are served by waitstaff dressed and acting as kid-friendly TV/film characters and pop culture icons. While waiting on their food (horrifyingly overpriced, if reviews are to be believed), the hungry patrons can take in the sights of all sorts of novelty furniture and decorations, much of it pertaining to the “theme” of whatever area of the restaurant they’re in. Eye-popping fun for the whole family!
Unfortunately for any fun-having families still seated and eating around 10:30 pm, an infernal ruckus was being raised in the Mine Shaft Saloon, the “cocktail lounge” attached to the restaurant. And by “attached” I don’t mean there’s a big wall with a door; no sir, the restaurant just kind of segues into the bar without any hope of soundproofing whatsoever.
PLUTONIAN SHORE
When the first band of the evening, black metallers Plutonian Shore, took the stage, I was outside in the patio seating area, the only space in or out of the venue where I had room to set up my drum kit. Within minutes I saw families power-walking out of the restaurant, to-go boxes in hand and strained looks on the faces of the parents. I wondered how many children present that night would grow up to be metalheads based on that one time they got served a steak by Jack Sparrow and ended up being aurally assaulted by harsh music from people in scary facepaint.
The first things to jump out at me were the keyboard and the drums, the former giving the music an ethereal and even grandiose feel, the latter being fast, tight, and best of all powerful. It sounded like the guy was absolutely slamming his kit, a guess rendered truthful by a peek inside. I actually didn’t hear the guitar, bass, or even vocals much, and I was too busy warming up to spend any extended period inside, but according to those who watched the bassist was doing some spiffy fills and, being a southpaw, played a right-handed bass upside-down.
Due to Saturday evening closing hours for the Magic Time Machine, this five-band gig got started at 10:30 and was to be over by 2:00, so set lists were shortened and loading time took on a very rushed feel. We were the next band to play, second of the whole evening, and I had my entire drum kit with me tonight, including rotary toms. Thankfully I had the whole thing put together, so getting it onstage was simply a matter of taking the individual stands up there and then pulling the whole deal back together, like a huge puzzle. Stage space proved to be an issue, and the rest of the guys at first had a little trouble figuring out who would go where with their big amps. Tarzan was told he could plug directly into the PA, allowing him to stash his rig behind JT’s cab and have that problem done with. Judging by the number of songs that played through over the club stereo, setup and soundcheck time took about ten minutes. Not too shabby.
HEXLUSTWe made it through the intro song feeling good. Normally this is where any inadequacies in warming up start to bear their bitter fruit, with cramping forearms for me or stiff fingers for Tarzan, but we went into FBF still feeling loose and limber. The audience response was very positive, a cause for smiles since we were nervous about starting the set off with a new tune, and we pulled it off with few or no mistakes. I even pulled off my Bonham-triplet drum vamp that leads into Tony’s guitar solo, and even in practices that’s very hit-or-miss.
“Toxic High” had problems before the count-off. Tarzan got confused and thought we were going to go into “Hellhammer,” so he switched his tone over to distortion; Tony announced Toxic and Tarzan had to take a few seconds (fucking eons in stage time) to scramble back across the stage to hit the switch again. Small potatoes, though, we launched into the song itself at top speed and were gearing up for a humdinger of a chorus. A sudden spout of crowd-pushing, however, send the mic into Tony’s face, knocking him into one of my cymbal stands and breaking a string on his guitar. I was cool, my stand had toppled but was supported by the floor tom, so the cymbals were still smashable. I was even able to continue playing without missing a beat.
Tony, however, was dazed and obviously unhappy with the sudden turn of events. I, Tarzan, and even a couple audience members admitted to being certain that he would throw his guitar down and walk offstage; not that we think him a wussbag, we just know that’s what we would have probably done. In a move that won him hellamuch cool points, Tony took a breath, got his wits about him, and set about replacing his guitar with a backup while we kept the song going. He picked back up just in time for his solo and we finished the tune strong.
“Hellhammer” held a few more problems. For me, it was simply dropping my stick before we were even a minute in. A minor setback, yes, but no matter how many times I do it I never feel any less clumsy doing empty kick-snare beats while reaching for another stick. I recovered and we soldiered on. In terms of how it affected the song, the next calamity was so slight I didn’t even notice it; JT bashed his forehead on Tony’s headstock while headbanging, resulting in a gnarly knot that was still there the next morning. He kept playing, God bless him, but I know he was fuming.
After we put a cork in that, Hexlust were not a happy group of campers. Each of us had experienced our own setbacks, big and small, and felt the sting of each other’s difficulties. Weirdest and most frustrating of all, the mic stand kept buckling or losing its grip on the mic, requiring constant audience vigilance to keep it straight and tall. When Hellbound Jeff told us that our next tune would have to be our last, we were more than happy to put this set to rest. The last song was, of course, “Tombs of the Blind Dead,” and we rocketed through that monster with such intensity that all the negativity melted and I felt like we were shining by the end stinger. I went through my finale drum solo, and we finished to huge applause.
In spite of the difficulties, this was actually one of our best performances in a good while. We all did an excellent job of warming up, maintained a high energy level, and screwed up rarely. Another significant factor was the audience, who cheered grandly after every song and kept our spirits high. Honestly, that helped more than all the warming up and headbanging could ever hope to; if we had started getting “polite claps” or even crickets after Tony’s tumble, I’m sure we would have quit before we even got offstage. I would have definitely cried. My mom would have taken a picture.
EMPERIAL MASSACRE and EXULCERATE
Unfortunately I spent both sets outside, breaking down my kit, getting it put away, and talking to folks about the performance. We also had shirts to sell, another distraction, and my parents, Tarzan and I helped a dude find his driver’s license. I promise, if we play with these guys again, I'll pay better attention, especially since I heard Exulerate were particularly awesome.
THE OATH
Something was wrong. It was 1:30, half hour til closing time, the whole crowd gathered inside in front of the stage, looking at half a band. The musicians looked impatient and the audience were no different; hell this is what we came to see, a King Diamond benefit show headlined by a King Diamond tribute band. What we had in front of us, however, were two guitarists, a drummer, no bassist, and worst of all, no King.
Hellbound Jeff found Tarzan and asked if his bass could be borrowed, which apparently was the root of The Oath’s problem. Two minutes later, The Oath’s singer, decked out in splendid Diamond fashion with awesome facepaint, strode through the door, bass in hand. I ran outside and made it to Tarzan just as he was walking back with his case; he kicked it over when I told him the news, though I think if he had made it back to the venue he would have bludgeoned someone to death with it. We all made it back inside and comfortably stageside just in time to watch… the band still soundchecking. It was 1:50.
Finally the singer said “Fuck it, let’s do this!” and they launched into “The Oath.” The long wait was well-rewarded, friends. The riffing was spot-on, the drum beats were very faithful, with little to no embellishments, and of course the King vocals were diamond quality (I know, HAR-DEE-HAR-FUCKING-HAR, I’m the kind of guy who can’t resist a juicy pun). Even the little whammy leads between lines of lyrics were just as I remembered them from Don’t Break the Oath. And of course, my favorite part and everyone else’s, the whole audience singing along with the “AH-ah, AH-ah, AH-AH-AH-AH-AH!” part, which felt almost as glorious as singing along to “Circle of the Tyrants” at Triptykon.
They followed that gem up with another Don’t Break… favorite, “Come to the Sabbath,” which kept us singing along and fist-pumping (NOT like champs) all the way through. Next up was “Halloween,” which I remember from Fatal Portrait but isn’t one of my favorites. Considering this set could be stopped cold at any moment, any song performed that I didn't absolutely love was a cause for worry. I was hoping against all hope that the venue manager was actually a King fan and would allow this to continue for at least another half hour so’s I could hear “Mansion in Darkness” or even “Desecration of Souls.”
Of course, after that song ended, it was announced that their next tune would be the last. I crossed my fingers and prayed for the widely-recognized “Welcome Home,” which, overplayed as it may be, would have been a fantastic way to end the evening. Instead, they went into some track off Abigail I don’t even remember. Not one for allowing myself to be disappointed, I spent the song hanging out by the very side of the stage, watching the drummer. They closed it out to wild applause, and promised that if we saw them again we would get to experience the full two-hour set. I for one am looking forward to that.
OUTRO
Overall, this was a fun gig. We all played fewer songs than expected, but this allowed us all to plow through our entire set lists at full power and come out of it still full o’ piss and vinegar. On the “benefit” side of the show, sources say that a whopping $900 was raised for King Diamond! Yep, we can definitely label this show a success, though a rickety, unstable one.
