A metal concert is not something easily described; the air is thick with heat and full with the smell of people. To the right, a person was being carried by others to who knows where. All around people were pushing and shoving, looking as if they are in dire need of shelter. It was a dog eat dog world, and at this time and place, it seemed as if common order was gone. High intensity filled up, and people were lost with no sense of time; adrenaline was running through everyone as far as eyes can see. As a roaring sound and a loud screech filled the ears, everyone threw themselves up. In front of the concert was where all this took place; what the people called a ‘mosh’ pit. The sound of electric guitar screeching, the bass and drums thumping, and a synthesizer ringing through all the power other instruments combined to play, the metal concert by ‘Slayers’ was not a place to simply mess with.
At the Fillmore, many gathered from all around to see the band ‘Slayers’ perform. An old bearded guy with a big belly was seen talking to a bald guy with tattoos everywhere and earrings the size of a golf ball. Behind them was a dorky looking man who’s name I later found out was Stan. “I got so much crap to do at work tomorrow” said Stan, a banker. “But shit, when am I going to see this band perform here again you know? I just left everything at the office. I’m gonna be busy tomorrow ha ha ha.” As Stan talked to me, I couldn’t help but notice his apparel. Beige khakis, a red polo shirt, with a nameless baseball cap; the word ‘banker’ couldn’t be spelled any other way. I began to wonder and worry a little bit for Stan. He was a tall lanky man who seemed a little far from fighting; and unfortunately, his dressing style seemed to call out for a beating from the angry looking tattooed guy four feet away. Noticing the tattooed guy, I tried to make my way towards him to start a conversation. As I squeezed myself toward him shouts went out into the air and it stopped me in my tracks. The main band ‘Slayers’ had come one to perform. This relieved me a little, because the man I wanted to talk to was very intimidating. He did have some scars on his body and hands; who is to say he doesn’t like Asian kids asking about his music?
As the music started playing, I realized what I had worried about for Stan, and what I thought of on the guy with tattoos was meaningless. Everyone in the audience came together as one. As the lead singer yelled out something (something I couldn’t make out), Stan, as well as the scary tattoo guy, yelled some lyric in unison; as one. No matter what song was played, no matter what drinks they have had, no matter what the guy next to me smelled like, it just didn’t seem matter. I began to move away from the front to avoid the moshing. Something that I wanted to avoid for that night, a mosh pit is not a place for the weak hearted. As the intensity of the music grew, audience members in the front began to truly feel the music. They were feeling not only with their ears and senses, but expressing it with their body. As they began to run around in a circle, each of them threw themselves unto another, smacking and ramming and beating each other to the beat of the music. In one incident, I saw a bleach blonde girl, probably no more than 5’ 2” get knocked to the floor by another scary looking man, whom what I thought was a giant. She flew to the floor, and disappeared in the pack of people stampeding by the stage. Luckily she wasn’t hurt, because as soon as she was knocked down, she was seen right back up to do the same thing that got her almost killed. The music itself had little musical melody. The lead vocal basically yelled throughout the whole three-four songs that they sang. The drummer seemed like he was hitting whatever was in front of him (sometimes himself as well, it looked like), and the guitarist did more head-banging than looking at his guitar. The music bumped very loud and my heart seemed to have paused beating. The combination of the music, the yelling of the crowd, and the running of the mosh pit deafened ears and stopped time. There was no beginning or was there an ending; everything was always at a climax, and the music seemed to go on. Words were futile; only by movements was someone able to have any form of communication. Once again, I have to emphasize; a metal concert was not something to simply mess with.
At the end of the night, I met up with my friend Tyler, who had also been moshing up in front. He is another big guy, with tattoos on his body and a piercing on his bottom lip. For that reason, I wasn’t worried, but more amused when he told me what had happened to him. “Yea, I got bit in the back of the head and punched in the jaw, but that’s moshing you know? It was good. The band kicked ass and the cats by me were hardcore.” By the way, I happened to see the person that bit him in the head; he got pushed and ran his open mouth to Tyler’s unfortunate head. It was Stan.
At the Fillmore, many gathered from all around to see the band ‘Slayers’ perform. An old bearded guy with a big belly was seen talking to a bald guy with tattoos everywhere and earrings the size of a golf ball. Behind them was a dorky looking man who’s name I later found out was Stan. “I got so much crap to do at work tomorrow” said Stan, a banker. “But shit, when am I going to see this band perform here again you know? I just left everything at the office. I’m gonna be busy tomorrow ha ha ha.” As Stan talked to me, I couldn’t help but notice his apparel. Beige khakis, a red polo shirt, with a nameless baseball cap; the word ‘banker’ couldn’t be spelled any other way. I began to wonder and worry a little bit for Stan. He was a tall lanky man who seemed a little far from fighting; and unfortunately, his dressing style seemed to call out for a beating from the angry looking tattooed guy four feet away. Noticing the tattooed guy, I tried to make my way towards him to start a conversation. As I squeezed myself toward him shouts went out into the air and it stopped me in my tracks. The main band ‘Slayers’ had come one to perform. This relieved me a little, because the man I wanted to talk to was very intimidating. He did have some scars on his body and hands; who is to say he doesn’t like Asian kids asking about his music?
As the music started playing, I realized what I had worried about for Stan, and what I thought of on the guy with tattoos was meaningless. Everyone in the audience came together as one. As the lead singer yelled out something (something I couldn’t make out), Stan, as well as the scary tattoo guy, yelled some lyric in unison; as one. No matter what song was played, no matter what drinks they have had, no matter what the guy next to me smelled like, it just didn’t seem matter. I began to move away from the front to avoid the moshing. Something that I wanted to avoid for that night, a mosh pit is not a place for the weak hearted. As the intensity of the music grew, audience members in the front began to truly feel the music. They were feeling not only with their ears and senses, but expressing it with their body. As they began to run around in a circle, each of them threw themselves unto another, smacking and ramming and beating each other to the beat of the music. In one incident, I saw a bleach blonde girl, probably no more than 5’ 2” get knocked to the floor by another scary looking man, whom what I thought was a giant. She flew to the floor, and disappeared in the pack of people stampeding by the stage. Luckily she wasn’t hurt, because as soon as she was knocked down, she was seen right back up to do the same thing that got her almost killed. The music itself had little musical melody. The lead vocal basically yelled throughout the whole three-four songs that they sang. The drummer seemed like he was hitting whatever was in front of him (sometimes himself as well, it looked like), and the guitarist did more head-banging than looking at his guitar. The music bumped very loud and my heart seemed to have paused beating. The combination of the music, the yelling of the crowd, and the running of the mosh pit deafened ears and stopped time. There was no beginning or was there an ending; everything was always at a climax, and the music seemed to go on. Words were futile; only by movements was someone able to have any form of communication. Once again, I have to emphasize; a metal concert was not something to simply mess with.
At the end of the night, I met up with my friend Tyler, who had also been moshing up in front. He is another big guy, with tattoos on his body and a piercing on his bottom lip. For that reason, I wasn’t worried, but more amused when he told me what had happened to him. “Yea, I got bit in the back of the head and punched in the jaw, but that’s moshing you know? It was good. The band kicked ass and the cats by me were hardcore.” By the way, I happened to see the person that bit him in the head; he got pushed and ran his open mouth to Tyler’s unfortunate head. It was Stan.
OFFICIAL WEBSITE OF SLAYER
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I love the start of your paper you truly capture the spirit and life of a metal show. You’re lucky I really wanted to go to see Slayer! I think it is cool the way you incorporate the conversation you had with the other Slayer fan, you utilize the conversation to make observations. One of my friends also got bit at a Slayer concert before. I would liked to have seen the pictures at the end incorporated in your writing to give the viewer an idea of the band.
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