Red Fang

I’m not entirely sure how Red Fang managed to steep itself in some of the chaos attached to Mayhem, nor am I certain how such awesomeness resigned itself to a mere side stage while Machine Head was getting promoted. Cruel and unusual practices are just part of the game, I suppose.

Red Fang is easily the most left-field member of this Mayhem roster, cherry-topping a relentless pursuit of hardcore and modern metal with stoned sludge a Kyuss fan might definitely enjoy. Clearly, the current mainstream metal scene is warming to our friends of the static doom persuasions, and we are ever thankful. Having managed to cull two deliciously heavy albums from its core, Oregon-based Red Fang takes cues from its Western US roots quite seriously, donating six songs split between an eponymous 2009 release and 2011′s Murder The Mountains, respectively.

The ferocity of “Sharks” and “Malverde”, the QOTSA/CKY flavored “Wires”, gave a surrealistic second wind to anyone who tasted fatigue from moshes, but instead wished to completely dip in zen. It was a fucking godsend in 100 degree heat, though we could’ve used a few more illicit activities in tow. Wink-wink, nudge-nudge.

Straight Line Stitch

Once vocalist Alexis Brown joined Straight Line Stitch in 2003 the Tennessee metal act became the equivalent of Wicked Wisdom birthing Ankla’s hell-spawn, producing most excellent results. With three full-lengths, a fan favorite EP, and a tightened lineup to back them up the band ascended metal ranks to join Mayhem this year. What’s our end result?

While the set was remarkably light on material from To Be Godlike, it was in fairness of promoting new songs and pumping up their sophomore release predecessor, When Skies Wash Ashore. Violence ensued through everything metal, via “Conversion” and “Black Veil” and a maniacal rendition of “Laughing In The Rearview” — this constant snowball of brutality reminding all of those present why Mayhem is (for the side stages, at least) less neutered than its counterpart radio rock summer festival, Uproar.

Keep it up, mountaineers of metal!

Machine Head

Speed, percussion, conversation, speed, percussion, conversation. It’s bad enough that Robert Flynn is a terrible vocalist with a stupid sense of humor, but to drag guitarist Phil Demmel along for the ride, as talented as he is? Machine Head is allegedly a pioneer of the New Wave of American metal previously discussed around acts like Lamb Of God and so on; while this is actually true — it’s a pity that Machine Head is just not all that good. I respect the musicians, I respect the calling, but quite honestly this travesty sucked in 2008, and it sucks now.

I have nothing more to report. The guy threw beer to a half capacity seated area and lawn as if he was rock royalty, and call-and-response yielded virtually nada. That just stinks of “has been” far too soon, but then again…

Megadeth

Between 2009′s Endgame and last year’s spot on the Jagermeister MusicTour alongside Anthrax and Slayer, Megadeth must be in an extremely celebratory mood. I guess quashing the beef with Hetfield, compounded by the anniversaries of Rust In Peace and Peace Sells… could certainly warrant some kegs, wouldn’t you agree?

The news around the campfire now was the official announcement of Megadeth’s new album, TH1RT3EN, hitting shelves this fall. Everyone loves good metal music from legends in the field itself. So, all that under the belt, and what is the audience’s glorious payoff? New song, check (“Public Enemy No. 1″). Rust In Peace mask, check (again). Staple classics, check (“Headcrusher”, “Symphony Of Destruction”, “Sweating Bullets”).

The catch? Showmanship has officially perished.

Compared to the zany antics of Machine Head’s obnoxious front man, Dave Mustaine’s stage presence was wooden. He left bassist Ellefson a bit inconvenienced, while the guitars that tried to alternate phenomenal licks felt unsure of where they were headed and by whom. In the grander scope of the prior Rust In Peace live anniversary release, it seems Megadeth has grown listless playing these long-standing hits over and over, which tremendously shows. I could partially blame an overstretched and overheated audience for lack of enthusiasm, but they knew coming out what to expect. There were similar problems last year during KoRn and Rob Zombie’s sets.

I wish it was something to write home about, I wish it was something unique, but alas, Megadeth does not belong in an opening spot. Let alone a opening spot for Godsmack. C’mon, I like “Voodoo” as much as the next guy, but this is Mustaine! Seriously, who’s buying this? Ignorance is not excusable, but neither is a legendary outfit playing as if they were statues in the “Small World” Disney attraction. For what it’s worth, I’d have as much fun simply playing the singles in my burned out Kia Spectra.

Godsmack

Ah, Godsmack.

I have a sort of love/hate relationship with the boys whose name hearkens back to an Alice in Chains song Sully Erna probably pays royalties for each year. Truthfully, I dug a lot of this band’s output up until IV, though hearing “Awake” get replayed incessantly during US Navy commercials did start to grind at me after some time due to repetition. It’s no secret that Godsmack is the working man’s heavy metal: the lyrics are easy to follow and get psyched up to, there are currently two highly-skilled percussionists sharing those duties for maximum noise, they consistently support the military, and who can really say that “Voodoo” is not severely infectious, let alone a well-rounded hard rock song in general?

This is a band that makes tribal signs slightly less cheesy, as much as Slipknot popularized its “S” logo back in ’99.

Of all the main performances witnessed this evening, Godsmack trumped everyone by hitting each mark it intended to strike, one after the other. Song choices like “Forever Shamed” and “Keep Away” never waned for a second, Erna took on drummer Shannon Larkin in a massive and flaunting drum-off, even the “I Stand Alone” sing-along wasn’t too terrible. As modern rock bands go, one thing I’ve always admired about Godsmack is its ability to rein in the fan base with charisma and live flair. This night was no exception to the rule, so if Erna keeps his word, Chicago will be called a pussy compared to Raleigh by tour’s end.

Disturbed

Disturbed is supposedly going on hiatus once the festival touring circuit comes to a close. I’m not entirely sure if that was going to make seeing them a second time around any more intense, but based on the night’s performance, I concur that it’s at least time to take a break (assuming they don’t just come back four years from now).

Yes, Disturbed. Much like Machine Head, the band is part of the ’08 Mayhem debut alumni, and this comes back to my redundancy remark. Since the tour kicked off the band has put out a new album, and said title Asylum is extraordinarily weak on its own merits for a Disturbed piece, but wow. Draiman makes his lengthy entrance, backed by custom video footage to coincide with the latest record’s titular single — following that up with “The Game”, “Liberate”, and “Into The Fire”, we notice right off the bat how annoying the man has become, squawking rather than roaring, losing his place at key intervals.

Reflecting back on a previous article regarding Marilyn Manson’s Mayhem set, David Draiman is left to do all the posturing, with the spotlight directed onto him 90% of the time. Why? He’s over-eager, appears mildly narcissistic, and with big-ass LED screens flashing around all the other band members, it might as well be him and a boombox a la Andrew WK. Can we say “for whom the bell tolls”? I think it’s relatively safe to assume that Disturbed, as a product, has reached a pure zenith and rolled on downhill.

At least their ’80s and ’90s cover songs are pretty decent stuff. Anyone for some FNM’s “Midlife Crisis”?

Photography by Amanda Lawson.