MOTÖRHEAD/MORBID ANGEL/SPEEDEALER/TODAY IS THE DAY
@The Back Room, Austin, TX
April 12, 2002
Anyone with only a vague familiarity with the metal world would think this a typical package tour of underground metal bands. Those with a somewhat deeper knowledge, however, will realize what an odd match this is. Putting the MC5/Ramones/Chuck Berry-informed heavy rock & roll of Motörhead on tour with the staunchly traditional death metal of Morbid Angel and the avant thrash of Today Is the Day seems like an oil/water scenario waiting to happen. While in a strictly musical sense the bands had little to do with each other, the crowd, for the most part, embraced it all.

It was a good thing the audience was so tolerant, since Today Is the Day played music so ugly only its mother would love it. Earnestly performing a cross between heavy-as-hell death metal and Yoko Onoish avant garde theatrics, the trio screamed, thrashed and whined its way through what seemed like an intolerably long set of demi-songs. While it was undoubtedly cathartic for the band, it seemed insular, despite its volume. One got the feeling that the trio would have been just as happy to play these tunes in its garage away from prying eyes. This was either self-expression in its purest form or deliberately off-putting bullshit. The crowd was a bit baffled, unsure of when one song ended and another began, but applauded politely just the same.

Speedealer, the only set of Texans on the bill, tried to rock the house after TItD's desultory eardrum shredding, but couldn't quite do it. Originally scheduled to open the show, the quartet played maybe a half-dozen songs before it was ushered offstage. Too bad, as its Black Sabbath-meets-Black Flag metalcore has great promise. But since the band had to quit the stage just as it was getting warmed up, it never had the chance to live up to it.

Then came Morbid Angel. The Florida death metal quartet holds the distinction of being one of the very first American bands to play the style, pushing almost twenty years of extreme metal fury. Fortunately, the band has long since left its infamous neofascist flirtations behind, simply getting on with the music. Or not getting on with it, as the case may be. Tonight, for some unfathomable reason, the Angel took an inordinately long time between songs, utterly destroying whatever momentum its powerful thrash might have sustained. The guitarists changed axes a couple of times and needed to tune up once in a while, but not so much to explain the holdup. Perhaps the singer/bassist needed time to allow his throat to recover from his full-throttle roaring. It didn't do his cause, whatever it was, any good to chastise the crowd for not making enough noise between songs; it's the band's freakin' job to do that. Besides, while Morbid Angel may have helped pioneer death metal, it certainly isn't the pinnacle of the style; its rather pedestrian songs could've used the energy a constant no-pauses rush would've generated. In keeping with the blatant rage in the music, the singer resolutely refused to smile or act as if he were having any fun whatsoever. What could have been cathartic was instead dreadfully dull. The crowd seemed to disagree, however, loyally cheering their metal heroes at every turn...until the pauses between songs went on too long, that is.

Fortunately, after a quick set change, everything in the universe was all right once again: Motörhead had arrived. Following Lemmy Kilmister's standard exhortation ("Hello. We are Motörhead. We're gonna kick your ass."), the trio ripped into, well, "We Are Motörhead," from the album of the same name. The classics "No Class" and "Bomber" followed, at which point the problems with the vocal mike became apparent, as the giant bassist's singing cut in and out with greater and greater frequency. Before quitting the stage in frustration, Lemmy, guitarist Phil Campbell and drummer Mikkey Dee managed to get through a few more songs, including "Civil War," "Damage Case" (an obscure cut from the classic Overkill album) and "Brave New World," an apt choice that, while not only the band's only covert political statement, was the only song from Hammered, the album it was allegedly promoting. "Five minutes," Lemmy promised, "while we sort this out." As it happened, it was less than that before the trio returned, and once it did, the rockin' never stopped. Apparently reinvigorated by the brief respite, Motörhead jauntily tore through favorites old and new: "Metropolis," "Sacrifice," "Nothing Up My Sleeve," "Born to Raise Hell," a ferocious cover of the Sex Pistols' "God Save the Queen." Lemmy dedicated his faithful tribute "Ramones" to the late Joey and resurrected the band's late 80s near-standard "Just Cos You Got the Power," which hasn't been played in years. The combo finished the show proper with what has become its set-ending troika: the Chuck Berry salute "Going to Brazil," the brutal, and brutally funny, "Killed By Death" and the speed-demon "Iron Fist." As loyal Motörfans knew, however, it wasn't over, not until the Kilmister sang, "Ace of Spades" and "Overkill," that is. Which is what the group did, after a short wait for the proper enthusiasm. The crowd, quite naturally, went wild. As well it fucking well should have.

With the show finally over, Lemmy gratefully raised his thumb to the crowd and the musicians took a bow. The opening bands may have done their best to bring everybody down, but Motörhead destroyed any chance of that after its first few notes. There aren't many bands who have been around as long as this one (over 25 years!) that can still rock this hard, and it's always a pleasure to hear Motörhead show the young kids how it's done. Michael Toland