PROGPOWER USA XIV
Center Stage Theater, Atlanta, GA
September 5 – 7, 2013
By now, Jen and I must be confirmed ProgPower lifers, as this year marked our 13th
consecutive fall journey to Atlanta. The main difference for us in 2013
was that instead of approaching Atlanta from the south, we drove in from the
north, having just been in Raleigh to see the Iron Maiden / Megadeth bill on
Tuesday, September 3, 2013. (For the record, Maiden delivered the same
kickass Maiden England show we saw them play in Houston in 2012, and Megadeth
were the strongest I’ve seen them in many years, with an all-killer/no-filler
setlist and Mustaine thankfully keeping his mouth shut and just playing music.)
As always, the band lineup is something of a mixed bag for our tastes, given our
lack of interest in progressive, keyboardy, self-indulgent frilly-shirt realms
that comprise approximately half the fest. But fest organizer Glenn
Harveston never fails to proffer a few gems in the power/traditional metal
style, which makes the event well worth our while musically. Equally
important for us are the friendships we have cultivated amongst the PPUSA
faithful, many of whom we see only once a year in Atlanta for laughs, drinks,
and metal. So my PPUSA review will focus only on the bands in styles in
which I have at least mild interest. I mean, really, other than catharsis,
what would it accomplish for me to waste keystrokes writing up my thoughts on
the likes of Shadow Gallery, Heavens Cry, Circus Maximus, Wolverine, and In the
Silence? I don’t care for their musical style, and there’s only so many
ways you can say “this sucks” or “not my cup of tea” before it becomes
repetitive and boring.
Thursday, September 5, 2013
Thursday night is officially known as the PPUSA Kickoff, so it’s something of a
pre-party. But most fest attendees do come in a day early to attend the
Kickoff, and the lineup typically features bands that are undoubtedly worthy of
gracing the mainstage (and in many cases have done so in the past). The
Center Stage Theater wasn’t packed, but I’d say it was at least 70% full for
Circle II Circle and Luca Turilli’s Rhapsody.
Zak Stevens and Circle II Circle are ProgPower veterans, having performed
at either the main festival event or a kickoff/showcase event at least three or
four times. The twist this year was that CIIC would be playing Savatage’s
‘The Wake of Magellan’ album in its entirety, a gimmick they’d apparently
deployed in Europe on several occasions with some success. I suppose you
could complain (if you were so inclined) that this essentially relegates Circle
II Circle to cover band status, which hardly befits a hard-working act that has
churned out a half dozen CDs of original material in the last decade. But
that doesn’t bother me. The Savatage tunes connect with people on an
emotional level. Like it or not, Savatage is defunct. Sure, Jon
Oliva is still out there playing Savatage songs under the aegis of Jon Oliva’s
Pain, but he largely ignores the Zak Stevens era of the band (which is
understandable since Jon wasn’t the lead singer for most of those tracks).
So the only way anybody’s going to get to hear anything off ‘The Wake of
Magellan’ nowadays is if Circle II Circle performs it. And Zak certainly
can lay claim to these tracks since his voice was an integral part of the magic
in the original recordings.
Sure enough, Circle II Circle launched right into ‘The Wake of Magellan’ at the
start of their set, playing it front to back with only occasional pauses for
Stevens to address the crowd. The current incarnation of CIIC is a good
one. Stevens is flanked by his long-time collaborator, bassist Mitch
Stewart, but everyone else in the band is new. Special credit goes out to
fleet-fingered guitarist Christian Wentz, who played beautifully and sent
shivers down the spine in “The Storm,” and German keyboardist Henning Wanner,
who rocked hard and ably handled many of Jon Oliva’s vocal lines in “Another
Way” and “Paragons of Innocence” as duets with Stevens. Speaking of
shivers, Stevens provided some of his own, as his voice was in top form and he
pulled off the vocal lines with ease. I was also pleased that the
material on ‘The Wake of Magellan’ has aged as well as it has. I don’t
listen to much in the way of pompous piano metal/rock these days, but lots of
these songs still sound great, especially the epics “The Wake of Magellan” and
“The Hourglass,” plus “Turns to Me” and “Another Way.” Unsurprisingly, the
whole album presentation went down a storm with the ProgPower audience, with
many folks in the pit singing along word for word and some appearing on the verge of tears.
After ‘The Wake of Magellan,’ Circle II Circle played two songs off their latest
album, ‘Seasons Will Fall,’ and a rousing version of “Watching in Silence,”
before closing out the set proper with the Savatage evergreen “Edge of Thorns,”
the band’s biggest Stevens-era hit (at least, if we’re not counting Christmas
songs). For a special treat at the end of the set, drummer Adam Sagan
surrendered his drum kit to Stevens, keyboardist Wanner took center stage as
lead vocalist, and the band ripped through Iron Maiden’s “The Trooper” to an
ecstatic audience reaction. Stevens was more than serviceable on the
drums, Wanner did a fine job on vocals, and Sagan occupied himself by
pretending to be Eddie terrorizing his bandmates during the instrumental part of the song.
In all honesty, I’m nowhere near the Rhapsody fan I used to be.
Back in the late 90s, of course, ‘Legendary tales’ and ‘Symphony of enchanted
lands’ were hailed as pearls of divinity by the starving power metal faithful,
myself included. Over the years, however, the formula wore thin, even as
Turilli and Staropoli maintained consistently high quality levels of
composition and execution. Of course, things unraveled further when
Rhapsody split into two factions a year or two ago, the Staropoli version and
the Turilli edition. Tonight we were graced with the Luca Turilli flavor
of Rhapsody in a USA exclusive performance. There was a lot to like about
this two-hour show. Turilli himself is a dynamic and energetic performer,
dashing all over the stage and headbanging furiously, unlike so many wallflower
guitar virtuosos who stand still and look at their fingers. New singer
Alessandro Conti (also of Helloween clones Trick or Treat) is a fantastic
vocalist who hits all the high notes and covers the Fabio Lione (a/k/a Joe
Terry) parts to perfection. Bassist Patrice Guers and drummer Alex
Landenburg are top-notch, pro musicians. And it was great to see
ex-Sonata Arctica keyboardist Mikko Harkin back on stage again. Also, the
set list included many stupendous gems from the Rhapsody back catalogue.
It’s hard to find fault with “Riding the Winds of Eternity,” “Rage of Winter,”
“Dawn of Victory,” “Emerald Sword,” or “Warrior of Ice,” or even Luca’s great
solo songs “Demonheart” and “King of the Nordic Twilight.” The new LT
Rhapsody tunes sounded pretty killer too, especially “Dark Fate of Atlantis”
and “Clash of the Titans.” So, yeah, on many levels this was an extremely enjoyable gig.
On other levels, it was just ridiculous, and not in a good way. The band
risked becoming a caricature of itself by having someone come out from
backstage before the show to hand out inflatable plastic swords to people in
the front row. They had a female dancer come out twice between songs to
do interpretive dance for a couple of minutes during prerecorded interludes
(including one time where she wore a dress fitted with electric blue lights as
she sashayed around the darkened stage). Not my thing.
Additionally, I know Luca’s going for this “cinematic” vibe and that’s fine,
but the video screen (which ran high-def video footage synched to the music
throughout the entire gig) was distracting and often ridiculous. They
must have displayed the album photos of each band member (omitting Harkin, but
including the missing second guitarist Dominique Leurquin, who injured himself
months ago in a circular saw accident and has never been replaced) fifty times
during the course of the gig. Worse, during the acoustic/folky songs, the
video screens showed footage of babbling brooks, peaceful mountains, blades of
grass swaying in the breeze, and so on. It was just goofy. The
larger problem, of which the video screen was merely a symptom, was that
computers and backing tapes (rather than musicians) seemed to be running the
show, with Luca and the boys being slaves to the playback. I know lots of
metal shows suffer from that infirmity, but it was just so blatant here.
There were too many times when the musicians on stage were standing around
doing nothing while prerecorded music and video images were being piped
in. The tapes were so high in the mix that Turilli’s guitar was often
drowned out and covered up completely. Grrrr. (It couldn’t have
helped matters that they never filled the second-guitar vacancy either.)
During “Tormento e Passione,” Conti did a duet with a prerecorded female
voice. That’s annoying. Like Metal Church said more than 20 years
ago, sincerity is felt much more when the human factor shows. But again, I
understand this is Luca’s “cinematic” concept, so it’s all by design. On a
practical level, this machine-driven performance leaves no room for human error,
like when the guitar tech took a little longer to set up Turilli’s acoustic
guitar before “Forest of the Unicorns” than the prerecorded tapes allowed,
forcing Luca to literally snatch the axe out of the roadie’s hands and start
playing so as not to fall behind the computers.
In fairness, the crowd didn’t seem to share any of my reservations, but lapped
up every second of the lengthy headlining set, even the parts (“Rage of the
Winter” was one) where fake snow (just soap bubbles) was sprayed into the
audience via a machine at the front of the stage. I guess my orientation
is a bit too jaded and old-school to appreciate the artistry of something like
this. But on balance, I did enjoy the gig and was happy to have had this
rare opportunity to see Luca Turilli’s Rhapsody in action.
Setlist: Riding the Winds of Eternity, Clash of the Titans, Tormento e Passione, Rage of
the Winter, Demonheart, The Village of Dwarves, Excalibur, drum solo, Forest of
Unicorns, Warrior’s Pride, Flames of Revenge, Of Michael the Archangel (bass
solo and end of song), Ancient Forest of Elves, Son of Pain, Dawn of Victory,
Kings of Nordic Twilight. Encores: Dark Fate of Atlantis, Emerald
Sword, Warrior of Ice.
Friday, September 6, 2013
The festival proper got underway at the early hour of 2:00 p.m. today to a
two-thirds full house as highly touted UK newcomers Damnation Angels hit
U.S. shores for the first time. Riding high on their acclaimed (in
ProgPower circles, at least) ‘Bringer of Light’ debut album on Massacre
Records, Damnation Angels had an audience that was primed and ready to
go. Unfortunately, the gig didn’t turn out so well for them. The
problem definitely wasn’t the songs. Damnation Angels have captured that
symphonic Kamelot style very effectively, with big melodies, singalong
choruses, symphonic flourishes, epic songs, and enough speed to keep crusty
narrow-minded bangers like me happy. “The Longest Day of My Life” and
“Bringer of Light” are fantastic tunes, and the audience went crazy for the
nearly interminable “Pride (The Warrior’s Way).” Also, the new song they
performed (“Final Requiem” or “Last Requiem” or something like that) sounded
strong. All of this kind of went for naught, however, because Damnation
Angels don’t look or feel like a cohesive, remotely seasoned live band.
Wild-eyed scruffy bassist Stephen Averill tried his damnedest to keep the
energy levels high, headbanging like a man possessed whenever possible.
But there were way too many parts where everybody was standing around doing
nothing while prerecorded parts (there we go again …) were being aired on
playback. Singer PelleK and Will Graney did not seem to know what to do,
and no one knew how to interact with each other except for PelleK to wrap his
arm around Graney’s neck while singing. It was just obviously a set by an
inexperienced, though talented and well-meaning, young band. I won’t
write them off, however. The prescription for Damnation Angels is simple:
Bring a live keyboarder next time, minimize the playback shit, and perform a
bunch of gigs so you can actually get comfortable on stage. Not there yet …
Myrath is pretty much not the sort of band I would give a damn about,
ordinarily. Now, I’d never heard a note of their music, but my
understanding before the fest was that they were “prog,” and I don’t care about
prog, so my default plan would be hang out in the lobby, converse and drink
beer while they played. The difference is that Myrath were coming
all the way from Tunisia. “Huh,” I thought, “I’ve never seen a Tunisian
metal band before. Might never get the chance to do so again, so I should
check them out.” Wise move, because it turns out they were awesome.
Sounding something like Symphony X with quite heavy riffs, Myrath’s magical
ingredient was the liberal use of exotic “oriental” melodies. The
performances were excellent, the energy level from the stage was high, and the
crowd reaction was as overwhelmingly positive as I’ve ever heard for any band
at PPUSA. Myrath were treated like kings on stage. Now, all of this
was made more remarkable by the fact that several band members had landed at
the Atlanta Hartsfield International Airport just 90 minutes before they hit
the stage. A couple of them arrived sans instruments or personal baggage,
which the airlines had misplaced (as they are wont to do). The Myrath
guys must have been jet-lagged, stressed, and flat-out exhausted, but you never
would have known it by watching them onstage. This was true grace under
pressure, folks. And the emotion was genuine when the singer seemed to
tear up at the end of their set, after all the music was done, the obligatory
band photo with Tunisian flag had been snapped, and the final bows had been
taken. “I don’t want to leave,” he said. We all felt exactly the same
way. Bravo, Myrath. Bravo.
Facing the unenviable task of following Myrath on stage were German
female-fronted orchestral metal vets, Xandria. I never bought
their first four or five albums, not being enamored of their gothic direction,
but that changed on their latest disc, ‘Neverworld’s End.’ With that
album, Xandria shifted gears into a style highly reminiscent of early
Nightwish. On disc, this material is quite strong and well-executed, so I
was eager to see Xandria live. I had to chuckle a bit when they took the
stage because the band members don’t look much like their, ahem, retouched
images in the ‘Neverworld’s End’ booklet. It was good to see raven-haired
singer Manuela Kraller wearing a black ruffly dress that looked metal while
still maintaining some decorum and self-respect. Jen is often outspoken
in her criticism of the way metal frontwomen dress, but Kraller’s attire earned
an enthusiastic thumbs-up from her. Xandria’s one-hour set was culled
heavily from the ‘Neverworld’s End’ album, which earned an enthusiastic
thumbs-up from me, especially on favorites like “Blood on my Hands” and
“Soulcrusher.” The Xandrians were definitely into the show, as the
guitarists crisscrossed the stage (at least, until technical problems forced one
or both of them to abandon their wireless setup and use a cable instead) and the
bassist headbanged and exhorted the crowd. For her part, Kraller sang
beautifully (again, it must be noted, with substantial help from layers of
prerecorded backing vocals and more damn prerecorded symphonic parts) and was
an apt cheerleader for the music, although she must have been a bit nervous
since she stumbled over her words a few times in between songs (at one point
saying how happy Xandria were to be at the “Xandria Festival” before catching
and correcting herself). The set ended with “Ravenheart,” which I think
was one of just two pre-‘Neverworld’s End’ tracks aired. Nightwish clones
or not, Xandria are a good band and can hold their heads high for their fine
performance at PPUSA.
After skipping Wolverine almost entirely, Jen and I were ready to get back down
to business with Ashes of Ares. Obviously, this is the new
“supergroup” featuring Matt Barlow and Freddie Vidales of Iced Earth fame, plus
Van Williams (ex-Nevermore). I was intrigued by the prospect of seeing
Ashes of Ares because their debut self-titled album on Nuclear Blast Records
has not been released yet. Rather than seeking out
samples/teasers/whatever online, I decided to go into the experience with a
clean mental slate, never having heard a minute of their music. I was
impressed. What Ashes of Ares delivered at PPUSA was a no-frills,
hammer-down, intense metal performance. They must have run through almost
their entire album during the one-hour set, which they elected not to pad with
songs from their predecessor acts. I think that was wise. If this
gig is intended to promote the new band, then don’t muddy the waters by playing
old stuff that listeners may reflexively prefer over the new tunes simply
because they’re already familiar with it. The Ashes of Ares songs sounded
strong to me, from heavy hitters like “The Messenger,” “Punishment,” the
vampire-themed “Chalice of Man” (woah, check out the harsh vocals from Barlow),
and “The One Eyed King” to more melodic and introspective stuff like “On
Warrior’s Wings” and “The Answer” (I think). Barlow, whose trademark red
hair is now close-cropped, was in fine voice tonight, displaying all the power
and emotion people associate with his work. That’s not to say it was easy
for him, though. Tonight was just Ashes of Ares’ second live gig ever,
and Barlow noted at one point, “Coming out of retirement is a
motherfucker.” It was a pleasure to watch Williams play drums, Vidales was
a virtual riff-machine on the right side of the stage, and the two touring guys
(guitarist and bassist) did a fine job as well, particularly the second
guitarist whose high notes filled out the backing vocals quite nicely.
Not every song hit me hard on the first listen, but there’s definitely enough
there that I think I’m gonna like this Ashes of Ares album just fine. Oh,
and later that evening Jen and I bumped into Barlow and Vidales in the
lobby. We chatted with them for several minutes and they were as kind and
gracious as they could be. I wish these guys much success, and look
forward to seeing them again at the Rock Harvest Festival in November.
Between now and then, they will embark on a European tour opening for Powerwolf
(whose new album charted #1 in Germany), which should help open some doors for
them overseas.
The last Friday band that I had any interest in seeing was co-headliner
Soilwork. That’s not to say my interest level was high in absolute
terms. Sure, like lots of people, I glommed onto Soilwork in a big way in
the late 1990s and early 2000s when Gothenburg melodeath was sweeping the
globe. At the time, I was especially fond of ‘Predator’s Portrait’ and
even the relatively wimpy ‘Natural Born Chaos.’ Over time, however, our
paths diverged, as Soilwork took their music in directions that I found
uninteresting (presumably to conquer the American market) and I gravitated
towards more underground/true/traditional stuff. Put it this way: The last
Soilwork disc I bought was ‘Stabbing the Drama,’ and I no longer own that
one. But I thought, “What the hell? We’re here, Soilwork’s here, I’m
not sleepy. Let’s check them out.” When we walked in, I was struck
by how fat Bjorn Strid has gotten. He wasn’t always a chunker, was
he? I can forgive the weight gain, but his habit of chewing tobacco during
the gig (and spitting the juice all over the stage floor) is pretty nasty.
Dude, spit in a plastic cup or something. The songs didn’t do too much for
me, I’m afraid, although I dug the aggression and it was nice to hear “Follow
the Hollow” for the first time in many years. Also, I got a kick out of
watching lunatic bass player Ola Flink’s endlessly entertaining array of goofy,
unnatural poses, gyrations and convulsions. The dude’s like a human
pretzel (or maybe a human Gumby) up there. For her part, Jen didn’t care
for Soilwork at all, and she cared for them even less after some jackass
stomped on her toes. Hey now, don’t mess with a man’s wife’s toes.
Overall, I think I’m probably done with Soilwork, which isn’t a reflection on
them or the quality of their live performance as much as it’s a reflection on
me. I’m just in a different place now.
Tonight’s main headliner was Shadow Gallery, which the progsters were sure to
love; however, I couldn’t muster even an iota of enthusiasm to go inside and
watch. The parts I heard from the lobby were, hmmmmm, definitely not my
thing. Jen, who was thankfully no longer hobbling on smushed toes, poked
her head inside the venue a few times and came back with horrific tales of
multiple keyboard rigs on stage. Shudder … I spent the next couple of
hours in the lobby enjoyably drinking beer and chatting with longtime friends
whom I only see at PPUSA each year. Thus ended day one of the festival proper …
Saturday, September 7, 2013
The challenging task of opening the Saturday festivities at PPUSA this year fell
to Chicago’s Divinity Compromised, a July replacement announced in the
wake of the abrupt cancellation by Sweden’s Reinxeed. It’s difficult to be
a “fill-in” act, particularly one with but a single album to its name, at a
prestigious event like ProgPower, but Divinity Compromised were unfazed.
Their brand of dark heavy metal with progressive elements and strong vocals fit
the stylistic format of the festival well. Those who came out to Center
Stage early on Saturday heard a batch of well-written, well-executed original
tunes, with a rousing cover of Savatage’s “Hall of the Mountain King” thrown in
for good measure. My only criticism of Divinity Compromised’s performance
isn’t a knock on the band at all: A one-hour set time didn’t do them any
favors, given that the bulk of the audience was unfamiliar with their material
and their presentation was relatively static. A 40-minute (or so)
timeslot might have provided the optimal dose of Divinity Compromised for the
ProgPower crowd. Still, the band performed admirably and should be
commended for pulling off this high profile gig with such aplomb and professionalism.
Heaven’s Cry wasn’t for me, so the next band that brought Jen and me back into
the auditorium was Sweden’s Wolf. Hadn’t seen these lads in a full
decade, since the first Brave Words Six-Pack Festival in Cleveland in
2003. In the interim, the entire supporting cast surrounding lead
singer/guitarist Niklas Stalvind has changed, as the band now includes Memory
Garden axeman Simon Johansson and ex-Tad Morose bassist Anders Modd, plus
drummer Richard Holmgren. The Swedes came prepared, though, hoisting a
huge Wolf banner behind the drums plus a couple of super-cool Wolf scrims in
front of the amps on each side of the drumkit. They also brought a
stockpile of bitchin’ black-and-red baseball jerseys that sold like hotcakes at
the merch stand (did I buy one? Is the Pope Catholic?). Wolf’s set
just ripped from start to finish, as the newly-blond Stalvind and his fellow
wolfpackers tore through a fine selection of tracks from the last three Wolf
albums, with “Evil Star” (from the album of the same name) and “Venom” (off the
2001 ‘Black Wings’ album, which prompted Jen to whisper in my ear, “Even their
album names are cool”) thrown in from the dusty archives. Wolf were old
school and totally metal in their attitude and approach, the most physically
active band on stage all weekend to this juncture. Modd and Johansson
never stood still, while Stalvind left the mike and rocked out every chance he
got. Sure, there were a few gripes about the setlist choices, but it’s
hard to complain about such top-notch guitar-fueled trad metal tracks as “Hail
Caesar,” “Full Moon Possession,” “Voodoo” (complete with audience singalong, in
which Stalvind urged the male audience members to “grab your balls” and female
audience members to “grab some guy’s balls” for maximum effect), “The Bite” and
“Speed On.” Wolf were definitely my favorite band of the weekend to this
point, although there were a couple of big guns remaining on the bill this
evening. Setlist: Make Friends with your Nightmares, Hail
Caesar, Full Moon Possession, Voodoo, Steelwinged Savage Reaper, Skullcrusher,
Evil Star, The Bite, K-141 Kursk, Venom, Speed On.
For me and the people who inhabit my circle, Armored Saint were easily
the most anticipated band of the weekend. Obviously, the Californians
released four classic LPs in the 1980s and early 1990s before largely
disappearing when John Bush joined Anthrax, only resurfacing every few years
and for very limited appearances after that. Last time I got to see
Armored Saint was at Wacken in 2000, so it had been an awfully long
drought. The most recent two albums (especially ‘La Raza’) are less
revered by old-school metalheads, so the only real trepidation I harbored going
into the night was how the setlist would look. I needn’t have worried as
Jen and I wormed our way to the front of the pit to a couple of nice spots on
the rail where we remained unmolested for the remainder of the evening.
Blasting off with the classic Saint opener, “March of the Saint,” then seguing directly
into “Long Before I Die,” Armored Saint made a compelling statement right out of
the chute. Good lord, they sounded incredible. It was like time had
stood still for the quintet, which was comprised of the same five dudes who
played on 1991’s ‘Symbol of Salvation.’ The Sandoval brothers are still
shaking massive manes of dark curly hair, Jeff Duncan’s still ripping on lead
guitar (filling the shoes of the lost but never forgotten Dave Prichard), and
mohawked Joey Vera remains one of the most energetic and dynamic bassists in
heavy metal. No, I didn’t forget John Bush: The man simply
ruled. His head may be shaved bald now, but Bush sings with more power,
control and conviction than he did a quarter century ago. He nails all the
screams and bellows out the vocals as he relentlessly stalks the stage, shadow
boxing and surrendering himself to the power of the music. At one point,
he hopped down from the stage, went through the photo pit and up against the
barricade to sing with the crowd. (He needed a boost from security to get
back on the stage, prompting one the security guards to remark, “This isn’t in
my job description.”) Oh, and the man definitely speaks his mind, even
when it ruffles the feathers of the prog elitists. Personally, I loved it
when he let the hundreds of lazy fans sitting in their seats have a little
razzing (“Are you a little drunk? A little stoned?”). I welcomed his
comment about “Shit happens sometimes when you don’t have your own crew” after
technical problems with Phil Sandoval’s rig scuttled a planned guitar duel
between him and Duncan during “Book of Blood.” (The PPUSA “family”
recoiled that this was some kind of insult directed at the event’s crew.
Balderdash. No doubt the PPUSA crew is dedicated, loyal and hard
working. I don’t question that for a second. But when band after
band experiences technical problems with their guitars, despite generous
30-minute set changeovers, something is amiss. Good for Bush for not
tiptoeing around the subject, but calling it like he saw it.) And Bush
nearly brought the house down before “Can U Deliver” when he said something
like, “We were so young. We’re not young any more, but we feel
young. If you know the words to this song, sing along. Even if you
don’t know the words, which would be fucking lame, you can still sing.”
Was it the most perfect, ideal Armored Saint setlist ever created? Well,
no. If I had written it, it would have included gems like “Conqueror” and
“Dropping Like Flies” and “False Alarm” and “Underdogs” and “Human
Vulture.” But what the Saint delivered was a pretty damned amazing
overview of their crimson career, a trip through red times, as it were.
There were three tracks from ‘March of the Saint,’ three from ‘Delirious
Nomad,’ two from ‘Raising Fear,’ and another three from ‘Symbol.’ Amongst
the expected “hits” (“Last Train Home,” “Chemical Euphoria,” “Can U Deliver,”
“Nervous Man,” “Reign of Fire,” “Madhouse,” etc.) were a few well-chosen deeper
cuts that I wouldn’t necessarily have expected (“Tribal Dance,” “Book of
Blood,” “Aftermath”), but was super-pleased to hear. And I didn’t have
any problem with the three post-classic period Saint songs they performed
(“Head On,” “After Me the Flood,” “Left Hook from Right Field”), which in truth
are among the strongest tunes from those last two records. Come on, it’s
not like they subjected us to “Chilled” or “Little Monkey” or something.
Basically, the set was strong from top to bottom, and the 75 minutes flew by in an instant.
The bottom line is that Armored Saint remain far more potent and vibrant than
many of their contemporaries. I had an amazing time at this show, singing
my lungs out on the rail and marveling in the glory of the Saint. (Phil
Sandoval and John Bush often made eye contact with the punters upfront and
smiled approvingly as we sang along. Phil pointed and tried to toss me
his pick at the end of the gig, but because I’m a klutz I didn’t catch
it.) Because Armored Saint’s live appearances (particularly on U.S.
shores) are such rare events these days, don’t miss the chance to see them if
you should get it. Even in 2013, with band members entering their 50s,
Armored Saint represent everything fantastic about 80s American metal.
Setlist: March of the Saint, Long Before I Die, Head On, After Me the Flood, Last Train
Home, Tribal Dance, Book of Blood, Left Hook from Right Field, Chemical
Euphoria, Aftermath, Can U Deliver, Reign of Fire. Encores:
Nervous Man, Madhouse.
The last time Sabaton played ProgPower USA (in 2009 during the ‘Art of
War’ tour cycle), they electrified Center Stage with one of the most
talked-about shows in PPUSA history. That night, promoter Glenn Harveston
promised the festival attendees that Sabaton would be back as a headliner
someday. That day was today. Of course, much has changed for the
Swedish camouflage-trouser-wearing dudes in the interim. They have
released two more studio albums. They have experienced a veritable
explosion in popularity overseas that has catapulted them to headliner status
all over Europe, enabled them to win the coveted direct support slot for Iron
Maiden in Sweden, Germany and Russia, and spawned a level of fanaticism
exhibited by the 5.5-hour signing session they did at Wacken this summer.
A less pleasant change is that the Sabaton camp has experienced substantial
upheaval, with four members being unceremoniously ousted in early 2012 and
replaced with three new guys (one of whom has since been replaced
himself). Live keyboards have been done away with altogether, with the
band choosing to use playback for those parts instead of having a sixth member
in tow. At the time, the lineup changes saddened me because I knew and
liked the ex-members (particularly keyboardist Daniel Myhr, with whom Jen and I
had enjoyed several long conversations over the years in Europe and the
USA). In terms of live performance, though, Sabaton has not lost a
step. The new guitarists (Winterlong axeman Thobbe Englund and Nocturnal
Rites’ Chris Rorland) and veteran drummer Snowy Shaw are consummate live
performers, and if anything their injection into the Sabaton stew has made the
band an even more deadly live juggernaut than before.
The Sabaton stage looked fantastic, with an enormous ‘Carolus Rex’ banner
covering the entire back wall and the stage stripped entirely clear of amps,
cabinets, guitar rigs, etc. It was just the musicians, the drum kit, and
four mike stands (one for each guitarist and two for bassist Par Sundstrom to
use, depending on which side of the stage he was on). After a
too-long intro tape consisting of Europe’s “Final Countdown” giving way to “The
March to War” (what’s with these double intro tapes bands are using
nowadays? Shut off the tape, come out and rock, won’t ya? I
promise, we’re ready), a cacophony emerged from the PA and a voice intoned,
“Alright ProgPower, are you ready? We are Sabaton and this is “Ghost
Division.”” Then pandemonium broke loose. The four camo-trousered
Swedes sprinted across the stage at full speed, hair flailing and axes
flying. And the crowd went berserk, or at least as berserk as a PPUSA
crowd can be, motionless and resting comfortably in their theater seats.
Sabaton’s travel itinerary this week had been grueling, as they’d flown from
Sweden to Puerto Rico yesterday, played Puerto Rico last night, flew to Atlanta
this afternoon and were now rocking PPUSA. If they were tired, though,
you’d never have noticed. (And they were tired. Sundstrom told me
later that after the gig they went straight to the hotel and off to bed, before
their morning flight to California.) This one of the most athletic
performances I’ve witnessed this side of a classic Raven gig, with all members
moving at full velocity and max energy from the first notes of “Ghost Division”
through the final strains of “Metal Crue.” (This doesn’t really fit here,
but I caught one of Rorback’s picks at the end of the night, so I somewhat
redeemed myself after whiffing on Phil Sandoval’s pick earlier.) A
particular favorite moment was during “Primo Victoria” when the entire pit was
leaping up and down in unison with the band and singing along with the
chorus. I looked over at Jen and there she was, big smile on her face,
hopping up and down and singing in full voice. That’s my metal wife.
All the earmarks of a successful headlining gig were here. Joakim Broden
(he of the footy shoes with fingers for each toe) is an effective, and engaging
and often funny frontman. He was cracking jokes about how everyone
remembered his pants splitting last time Sabaton played here, and how his
limited English vocabulary mostly consists of four-letter words which the
children in attendance should disregard. He added a couple of zingers for
the PPUSA crowd, remarking at how odd it was for the band to present a song in
Swedish in the United States when “you can barely speak your own language” and
saying something along the lines of how American crowds aren’t that great but
that we were good for an American audience (ouch, damning with faint
praise). No one seemed to mind, though. Also, Sabaton have a wealth
of great songs in their catalogue from which to select, and while the setlist
tilted a bit more towards the ‘Carolus Rex’ material than I would have
preferred, the songs were overall well-chosen and mostly killer. Stuff
like “40:1,” “White Death,” “Cliffs of Gallipoli,” “Carolus Rex,” “Swedish
Pagans,” and “Attero Dominatus” just goes over brilliantly in a live setting
with the crowd singing along and the band rocking out mightily. As most
people know, Sabaton’s setlist gimmick is to give the audience choices at
several different junctures. “Who wants to hear ‘Song A’? Who wants
to hear ‘Song B’?” Whichever one gets the loudest response is the one
they play. Unfortunately, PPUSA audience wanted more ‘Carolus Rex’ and
less old stuff, which meant we got screwed out of welcome options like
“Midway,” “Uprising,” and “Into the Fire,” but that’s okay. The setlist
played was more than adequate. To augment the usual “audience, you
choose” schtick, Sabaton added a feature in which Broden passed the microphone
to another band member at various times to let him pick a song that allegedly
wasn’t on the setlist. Tobbe picked “Cliffs of Gallipoli” and Par picked
“Attero Dominatus,” both of which obviously would have been on the setlist
anyway since they’re among Sabaton’s most well-known classic songs. Snowy
Shaw threw a wrench into this little charade by picking “Run to the Hills,” and
beginning the familiar drum intro. “You’ll never get the microphone
again,” joked Broden.
My only real criticism of Sabaton’s performance is a minor one: The sound
for some reason seemed muddier for them than it had been for any other band all
weekend. I mean, it wasn’t awful or anything, but it was noticeably worse
than it had been for, say, Armored Saint. And Sabaton had their own
crew with them, so presumably they set things up sonically exactly how they
wanted them. That was a bit of an annoyance, but no more than that.
Overall, it was fascinating to see how Sabaton have transformed themselves into
a bona fide headliner act that belongs on the big stage closing out the
night with a 90 minute set. Sabaton have already conquered Europe and
word has it that North America is next on their hitlist. Expect multiple
Sabaton tours in the USA next year upon the release of their next album, and by
all means go check them out. These guys work extremely hard and are quite
good at what they do. They’ve worked for every scrap of success they’ve
received, and they will not rest until their panzer battalion has rolled from
one American coast to the other. Don’t bet against them.
Setlist: Ghost Division, Gott Mit Uns, Carolus Rex, 40:1, Poltova, Carolean Prayer (in
Swedish), White Death, Cliffs of Gallipoli, Swedish Pagans, Price of a Mile,
Lion in the North, Attero Dominatus. Encores: Art of War, Primo Victoria, Metal Crue.
Rumors are rampant that ProgPower USA’s fifteenth installment in September 2014
will be its last. Jen and I have been going for 13 years, and we cherish
the musical experiences we’ve had and the friends we’ve made. That said,
we’ve never viewed PPUSA as the infallible godsend that so many of its devotees
appear to do. Band selection is always an iffy proposition, with as many
as half the bands every year having no interest or appeal to us. The
“lame” factor in the crowd is rather embarrassing and very real. And, you
know, all good things must end. Whether or not next year marks the end of
the road for this festival, we’ll be there to see our friends and see some
killer bands. That said, our ambivalence for the roster underscores the
annual problem we have with the PPUSA formula. From the dozen bands
announced, we will look forward to seeing Overkill, Jon Oliva playing
‘Streets,’ Stratovarius, Orden Ogan, Masterplan, Voodoo Circle, and basically no
one else. That’s par for the course for ProgPower. But hey, the
formula has worked to sustain the festival at high levels of attendance and
financial independence for 14 years, so who am I to argue?
~ Review by Kit Ekman ~
Center Stage Theater, Atlanta, GA
September 5 – 7, 2013
By now, Jen and I must be confirmed ProgPower lifers, as this year marked our 13th
consecutive fall journey to Atlanta. The main difference for us in 2013
was that instead of approaching Atlanta from the south, we drove in from the
north, having just been in Raleigh to see the Iron Maiden / Megadeth bill on
Tuesday, September 3, 2013. (For the record, Maiden delivered the same
kickass Maiden England show we saw them play in Houston in 2012, and Megadeth
were the strongest I’ve seen them in many years, with an all-killer/no-filler
setlist and Mustaine thankfully keeping his mouth shut and just playing music.)
As always, the band lineup is something of a mixed bag for our tastes, given our
lack of interest in progressive, keyboardy, self-indulgent frilly-shirt realms
that comprise approximately half the fest. But fest organizer Glenn
Harveston never fails to proffer a few gems in the power/traditional metal
style, which makes the event well worth our while musically. Equally
important for us are the friendships we have cultivated amongst the PPUSA
faithful, many of whom we see only once a year in Atlanta for laughs, drinks,
and metal. So my PPUSA review will focus only on the bands in styles in
which I have at least mild interest. I mean, really, other than catharsis,
what would it accomplish for me to waste keystrokes writing up my thoughts on
the likes of Shadow Gallery, Heavens Cry, Circus Maximus, Wolverine, and In the
Silence? I don’t care for their musical style, and there’s only so many
ways you can say “this sucks” or “not my cup of tea” before it becomes
repetitive and boring.
Thursday, September 5, 2013
Thursday night is officially known as the PPUSA Kickoff, so it’s something of a
pre-party. But most fest attendees do come in a day early to attend the
Kickoff, and the lineup typically features bands that are undoubtedly worthy of
gracing the mainstage (and in many cases have done so in the past). The
Center Stage Theater wasn’t packed, but I’d say it was at least 70% full for
Circle II Circle and Luca Turilli’s Rhapsody.
Zak Stevens and Circle II Circle are ProgPower veterans, having performed
at either the main festival event or a kickoff/showcase event at least three or
four times. The twist this year was that CIIC would be playing Savatage’s
‘The Wake of Magellan’ album in its entirety, a gimmick they’d apparently
deployed in Europe on several occasions with some success. I suppose you
could complain (if you were so inclined) that this essentially relegates Circle
II Circle to cover band status, which hardly befits a hard-working act that has
churned out a half dozen CDs of original material in the last decade. But
that doesn’t bother me. The Savatage tunes connect with people on an
emotional level. Like it or not, Savatage is defunct. Sure, Jon
Oliva is still out there playing Savatage songs under the aegis of Jon Oliva’s
Pain, but he largely ignores the Zak Stevens era of the band (which is
understandable since Jon wasn’t the lead singer for most of those tracks).
So the only way anybody’s going to get to hear anything off ‘The Wake of
Magellan’ nowadays is if Circle II Circle performs it. And Zak certainly
can lay claim to these tracks since his voice was an integral part of the magic
in the original recordings.
Sure enough, Circle II Circle launched right into ‘The Wake of Magellan’ at the
start of their set, playing it front to back with only occasional pauses for
Stevens to address the crowd. The current incarnation of CIIC is a good
one. Stevens is flanked by his long-time collaborator, bassist Mitch
Stewart, but everyone else in the band is new. Special credit goes out to
fleet-fingered guitarist Christian Wentz, who played beautifully and sent
shivers down the spine in “The Storm,” and German keyboardist Henning Wanner,
who rocked hard and ably handled many of Jon Oliva’s vocal lines in “Another
Way” and “Paragons of Innocence” as duets with Stevens. Speaking of
shivers, Stevens provided some of his own, as his voice was in top form and he
pulled off the vocal lines with ease. I was also pleased that the
material on ‘The Wake of Magellan’ has aged as well as it has. I don’t
listen to much in the way of pompous piano metal/rock these days, but lots of
these songs still sound great, especially the epics “The Wake of Magellan” and
“The Hourglass,” plus “Turns to Me” and “Another Way.” Unsurprisingly, the
whole album presentation went down a storm with the ProgPower audience, with
many folks in the pit singing along word for word and some appearing on the verge of tears.
After ‘The Wake of Magellan,’ Circle II Circle played two songs off their latest
album, ‘Seasons Will Fall,’ and a rousing version of “Watching in Silence,”
before closing out the set proper with the Savatage evergreen “Edge of Thorns,”
the band’s biggest Stevens-era hit (at least, if we’re not counting Christmas
songs). For a special treat at the end of the set, drummer Adam Sagan
surrendered his drum kit to Stevens, keyboardist Wanner took center stage as
lead vocalist, and the band ripped through Iron Maiden’s “The Trooper” to an
ecstatic audience reaction. Stevens was more than serviceable on the
drums, Wanner did a fine job on vocals, and Sagan occupied himself by
pretending to be Eddie terrorizing his bandmates during the instrumental part of the song.
In all honesty, I’m nowhere near the Rhapsody fan I used to be.
Back in the late 90s, of course, ‘Legendary tales’ and ‘Symphony of enchanted
lands’ were hailed as pearls of divinity by the starving power metal faithful,
myself included. Over the years, however, the formula wore thin, even as
Turilli and Staropoli maintained consistently high quality levels of
composition and execution. Of course, things unraveled further when
Rhapsody split into two factions a year or two ago, the Staropoli version and
the Turilli edition. Tonight we were graced with the Luca Turilli flavor
of Rhapsody in a USA exclusive performance. There was a lot to like about
this two-hour show. Turilli himself is a dynamic and energetic performer,
dashing all over the stage and headbanging furiously, unlike so many wallflower
guitar virtuosos who stand still and look at their fingers. New singer
Alessandro Conti (also of Helloween clones Trick or Treat) is a fantastic
vocalist who hits all the high notes and covers the Fabio Lione (a/k/a Joe
Terry) parts to perfection. Bassist Patrice Guers and drummer Alex
Landenburg are top-notch, pro musicians. And it was great to see
ex-Sonata Arctica keyboardist Mikko Harkin back on stage again. Also, the
set list included many stupendous gems from the Rhapsody back catalogue.
It’s hard to find fault with “Riding the Winds of Eternity,” “Rage of Winter,”
“Dawn of Victory,” “Emerald Sword,” or “Warrior of Ice,” or even Luca’s great
solo songs “Demonheart” and “King of the Nordic Twilight.” The new LT
Rhapsody tunes sounded pretty killer too, especially “Dark Fate of Atlantis”
and “Clash of the Titans.” So, yeah, on many levels this was an extremely enjoyable gig.
On other levels, it was just ridiculous, and not in a good way. The band
risked becoming a caricature of itself by having someone come out from
backstage before the show to hand out inflatable plastic swords to people in
the front row. They had a female dancer come out twice between songs to
do interpretive dance for a couple of minutes during prerecorded interludes
(including one time where she wore a dress fitted with electric blue lights as
she sashayed around the darkened stage). Not my thing.
Additionally, I know Luca’s going for this “cinematic” vibe and that’s fine,
but the video screen (which ran high-def video footage synched to the music
throughout the entire gig) was distracting and often ridiculous. They
must have displayed the album photos of each band member (omitting Harkin, but
including the missing second guitarist Dominique Leurquin, who injured himself
months ago in a circular saw accident and has never been replaced) fifty times
during the course of the gig. Worse, during the acoustic/folky songs, the
video screens showed footage of babbling brooks, peaceful mountains, blades of
grass swaying in the breeze, and so on. It was just goofy. The
larger problem, of which the video screen was merely a symptom, was that
computers and backing tapes (rather than musicians) seemed to be running the
show, with Luca and the boys being slaves to the playback. I know lots of
metal shows suffer from that infirmity, but it was just so blatant here.
There were too many times when the musicians on stage were standing around
doing nothing while prerecorded music and video images were being piped
in. The tapes were so high in the mix that Turilli’s guitar was often
drowned out and covered up completely. Grrrr. (It couldn’t have
helped matters that they never filled the second-guitar vacancy either.)
During “Tormento e Passione,” Conti did a duet with a prerecorded female
voice. That’s annoying. Like Metal Church said more than 20 years
ago, sincerity is felt much more when the human factor shows. But again, I
understand this is Luca’s “cinematic” concept, so it’s all by design. On a
practical level, this machine-driven performance leaves no room for human error,
like when the guitar tech took a little longer to set up Turilli’s acoustic
guitar before “Forest of the Unicorns” than the prerecorded tapes allowed,
forcing Luca to literally snatch the axe out of the roadie’s hands and start
playing so as not to fall behind the computers.
In fairness, the crowd didn’t seem to share any of my reservations, but lapped
up every second of the lengthy headlining set, even the parts (“Rage of the
Winter” was one) where fake snow (just soap bubbles) was sprayed into the
audience via a machine at the front of the stage. I guess my orientation
is a bit too jaded and old-school to appreciate the artistry of something like
this. But on balance, I did enjoy the gig and was happy to have had this
rare opportunity to see Luca Turilli’s Rhapsody in action.
Setlist: Riding the Winds of Eternity, Clash of the Titans, Tormento e Passione, Rage of
the Winter, Demonheart, The Village of Dwarves, Excalibur, drum solo, Forest of
Unicorns, Warrior’s Pride, Flames of Revenge, Of Michael the Archangel (bass
solo and end of song), Ancient Forest of Elves, Son of Pain, Dawn of Victory,
Kings of Nordic Twilight. Encores: Dark Fate of Atlantis, Emerald
Sword, Warrior of Ice.
Friday, September 6, 2013
The festival proper got underway at the early hour of 2:00 p.m. today to a
two-thirds full house as highly touted UK newcomers Damnation Angels hit
U.S. shores for the first time. Riding high on their acclaimed (in
ProgPower circles, at least) ‘Bringer of Light’ debut album on Massacre
Records, Damnation Angels had an audience that was primed and ready to
go. Unfortunately, the gig didn’t turn out so well for them. The
problem definitely wasn’t the songs. Damnation Angels have captured that
symphonic Kamelot style very effectively, with big melodies, singalong
choruses, symphonic flourishes, epic songs, and enough speed to keep crusty
narrow-minded bangers like me happy. “The Longest Day of My Life” and
“Bringer of Light” are fantastic tunes, and the audience went crazy for the
nearly interminable “Pride (The Warrior’s Way).” Also, the new song they
performed (“Final Requiem” or “Last Requiem” or something like that) sounded
strong. All of this kind of went for naught, however, because Damnation
Angels don’t look or feel like a cohesive, remotely seasoned live band.
Wild-eyed scruffy bassist Stephen Averill tried his damnedest to keep the
energy levels high, headbanging like a man possessed whenever possible.
But there were way too many parts where everybody was standing around doing
nothing while prerecorded parts (there we go again …) were being aired on
playback. Singer PelleK and Will Graney did not seem to know what to do,
and no one knew how to interact with each other except for PelleK to wrap his
arm around Graney’s neck while singing. It was just obviously a set by an
inexperienced, though talented and well-meaning, young band. I won’t
write them off, however. The prescription for Damnation Angels is simple:
Bring a live keyboarder next time, minimize the playback shit, and perform a
bunch of gigs so you can actually get comfortable on stage. Not there yet …
Myrath is pretty much not the sort of band I would give a damn about,
ordinarily. Now, I’d never heard a note of their music, but my
understanding before the fest was that they were “prog,” and I don’t care about
prog, so my default plan would be hang out in the lobby, converse and drink
beer while they played. The difference is that Myrath were coming
all the way from Tunisia. “Huh,” I thought, “I’ve never seen a Tunisian
metal band before. Might never get the chance to do so again, so I should
check them out.” Wise move, because it turns out they were awesome.
Sounding something like Symphony X with quite heavy riffs, Myrath’s magical
ingredient was the liberal use of exotic “oriental” melodies. The
performances were excellent, the energy level from the stage was high, and the
crowd reaction was as overwhelmingly positive as I’ve ever heard for any band
at PPUSA. Myrath were treated like kings on stage. Now, all of this
was made more remarkable by the fact that several band members had landed at
the Atlanta Hartsfield International Airport just 90 minutes before they hit
the stage. A couple of them arrived sans instruments or personal baggage,
which the airlines had misplaced (as they are wont to do). The Myrath
guys must have been jet-lagged, stressed, and flat-out exhausted, but you never
would have known it by watching them onstage. This was true grace under
pressure, folks. And the emotion was genuine when the singer seemed to
tear up at the end of their set, after all the music was done, the obligatory
band photo with Tunisian flag had been snapped, and the final bows had been
taken. “I don’t want to leave,” he said. We all felt exactly the same
way. Bravo, Myrath. Bravo.
Facing the unenviable task of following Myrath on stage were German
female-fronted orchestral metal vets, Xandria. I never bought
their first four or five albums, not being enamored of their gothic direction,
but that changed on their latest disc, ‘Neverworld’s End.’ With that
album, Xandria shifted gears into a style highly reminiscent of early
Nightwish. On disc, this material is quite strong and well-executed, so I
was eager to see Xandria live. I had to chuckle a bit when they took the
stage because the band members don’t look much like their, ahem, retouched
images in the ‘Neverworld’s End’ booklet. It was good to see raven-haired
singer Manuela Kraller wearing a black ruffly dress that looked metal while
still maintaining some decorum and self-respect. Jen is often outspoken
in her criticism of the way metal frontwomen dress, but Kraller’s attire earned
an enthusiastic thumbs-up from her. Xandria’s one-hour set was culled
heavily from the ‘Neverworld’s End’ album, which earned an enthusiastic
thumbs-up from me, especially on favorites like “Blood on my Hands” and
“Soulcrusher.” The Xandrians were definitely into the show, as the
guitarists crisscrossed the stage (at least, until technical problems forced one
or both of them to abandon their wireless setup and use a cable instead) and the
bassist headbanged and exhorted the crowd. For her part, Kraller sang
beautifully (again, it must be noted, with substantial help from layers of
prerecorded backing vocals and more damn prerecorded symphonic parts) and was
an apt cheerleader for the music, although she must have been a bit nervous
since she stumbled over her words a few times in between songs (at one point
saying how happy Xandria were to be at the “Xandria Festival” before catching
and correcting herself). The set ended with “Ravenheart,” which I think
was one of just two pre-‘Neverworld’s End’ tracks aired. Nightwish clones
or not, Xandria are a good band and can hold their heads high for their fine
performance at PPUSA.
After skipping Wolverine almost entirely, Jen and I were ready to get back down
to business with Ashes of Ares. Obviously, this is the new
“supergroup” featuring Matt Barlow and Freddie Vidales of Iced Earth fame, plus
Van Williams (ex-Nevermore). I was intrigued by the prospect of seeing
Ashes of Ares because their debut self-titled album on Nuclear Blast Records
has not been released yet. Rather than seeking out
samples/teasers/whatever online, I decided to go into the experience with a
clean mental slate, never having heard a minute of their music. I was
impressed. What Ashes of Ares delivered at PPUSA was a no-frills,
hammer-down, intense metal performance. They must have run through almost
their entire album during the one-hour set, which they elected not to pad with
songs from their predecessor acts. I think that was wise. If this
gig is intended to promote the new band, then don’t muddy the waters by playing
old stuff that listeners may reflexively prefer over the new tunes simply
because they’re already familiar with it. The Ashes of Ares songs sounded
strong to me, from heavy hitters like “The Messenger,” “Punishment,” the
vampire-themed “Chalice of Man” (woah, check out the harsh vocals from Barlow),
and “The One Eyed King” to more melodic and introspective stuff like “On
Warrior’s Wings” and “The Answer” (I think). Barlow, whose trademark red
hair is now close-cropped, was in fine voice tonight, displaying all the power
and emotion people associate with his work. That’s not to say it was easy
for him, though. Tonight was just Ashes of Ares’ second live gig ever,
and Barlow noted at one point, “Coming out of retirement is a
motherfucker.” It was a pleasure to watch Williams play drums, Vidales was
a virtual riff-machine on the right side of the stage, and the two touring guys
(guitarist and bassist) did a fine job as well, particularly the second
guitarist whose high notes filled out the backing vocals quite nicely.
Not every song hit me hard on the first listen, but there’s definitely enough
there that I think I’m gonna like this Ashes of Ares album just fine. Oh,
and later that evening Jen and I bumped into Barlow and Vidales in the
lobby. We chatted with them for several minutes and they were as kind and
gracious as they could be. I wish these guys much success, and look
forward to seeing them again at the Rock Harvest Festival in November.
Between now and then, they will embark on a European tour opening for Powerwolf
(whose new album charted #1 in Germany), which should help open some doors for
them overseas.
The last Friday band that I had any interest in seeing was co-headliner
Soilwork. That’s not to say my interest level was high in absolute
terms. Sure, like lots of people, I glommed onto Soilwork in a big way in
the late 1990s and early 2000s when Gothenburg melodeath was sweeping the
globe. At the time, I was especially fond of ‘Predator’s Portrait’ and
even the relatively wimpy ‘Natural Born Chaos.’ Over time, however, our
paths diverged, as Soilwork took their music in directions that I found
uninteresting (presumably to conquer the American market) and I gravitated
towards more underground/true/traditional stuff. Put it this way: The last
Soilwork disc I bought was ‘Stabbing the Drama,’ and I no longer own that
one. But I thought, “What the hell? We’re here, Soilwork’s here, I’m
not sleepy. Let’s check them out.” When we walked in, I was struck
by how fat Bjorn Strid has gotten. He wasn’t always a chunker, was
he? I can forgive the weight gain, but his habit of chewing tobacco during
the gig (and spitting the juice all over the stage floor) is pretty nasty.
Dude, spit in a plastic cup or something. The songs didn’t do too much for
me, I’m afraid, although I dug the aggression and it was nice to hear “Follow
the Hollow” for the first time in many years. Also, I got a kick out of
watching lunatic bass player Ola Flink’s endlessly entertaining array of goofy,
unnatural poses, gyrations and convulsions. The dude’s like a human
pretzel (or maybe a human Gumby) up there. For her part, Jen didn’t care
for Soilwork at all, and she cared for them even less after some jackass
stomped on her toes. Hey now, don’t mess with a man’s wife’s toes.
Overall, I think I’m probably done with Soilwork, which isn’t a reflection on
them or the quality of their live performance as much as it’s a reflection on
me. I’m just in a different place now.
Tonight’s main headliner was Shadow Gallery, which the progsters were sure to
love; however, I couldn’t muster even an iota of enthusiasm to go inside and
watch. The parts I heard from the lobby were, hmmmmm, definitely not my
thing. Jen, who was thankfully no longer hobbling on smushed toes, poked
her head inside the venue a few times and came back with horrific tales of
multiple keyboard rigs on stage. Shudder … I spent the next couple of
hours in the lobby enjoyably drinking beer and chatting with longtime friends
whom I only see at PPUSA each year. Thus ended day one of the festival proper …
Saturday, September 7, 2013
The challenging task of opening the Saturday festivities at PPUSA this year fell
to Chicago’s Divinity Compromised, a July replacement announced in the
wake of the abrupt cancellation by Sweden’s Reinxeed. It’s difficult to be
a “fill-in” act, particularly one with but a single album to its name, at a
prestigious event like ProgPower, but Divinity Compromised were unfazed.
Their brand of dark heavy metal with progressive elements and strong vocals fit
the stylistic format of the festival well. Those who came out to Center
Stage early on Saturday heard a batch of well-written, well-executed original
tunes, with a rousing cover of Savatage’s “Hall of the Mountain King” thrown in
for good measure. My only criticism of Divinity Compromised’s performance
isn’t a knock on the band at all: A one-hour set time didn’t do them any
favors, given that the bulk of the audience was unfamiliar with their material
and their presentation was relatively static. A 40-minute (or so)
timeslot might have provided the optimal dose of Divinity Compromised for the
ProgPower crowd. Still, the band performed admirably and should be
commended for pulling off this high profile gig with such aplomb and professionalism.
Heaven’s Cry wasn’t for me, so the next band that brought Jen and me back into
the auditorium was Sweden’s Wolf. Hadn’t seen these lads in a full
decade, since the first Brave Words Six-Pack Festival in Cleveland in
2003. In the interim, the entire supporting cast surrounding lead
singer/guitarist Niklas Stalvind has changed, as the band now includes Memory
Garden axeman Simon Johansson and ex-Tad Morose bassist Anders Modd, plus
drummer Richard Holmgren. The Swedes came prepared, though, hoisting a
huge Wolf banner behind the drums plus a couple of super-cool Wolf scrims in
front of the amps on each side of the drumkit. They also brought a
stockpile of bitchin’ black-and-red baseball jerseys that sold like hotcakes at
the merch stand (did I buy one? Is the Pope Catholic?). Wolf’s set
just ripped from start to finish, as the newly-blond Stalvind and his fellow
wolfpackers tore through a fine selection of tracks from the last three Wolf
albums, with “Evil Star” (from the album of the same name) and “Venom” (off the
2001 ‘Black Wings’ album, which prompted Jen to whisper in my ear, “Even their
album names are cool”) thrown in from the dusty archives. Wolf were old
school and totally metal in their attitude and approach, the most physically
active band on stage all weekend to this juncture. Modd and Johansson
never stood still, while Stalvind left the mike and rocked out every chance he
got. Sure, there were a few gripes about the setlist choices, but it’s
hard to complain about such top-notch guitar-fueled trad metal tracks as “Hail
Caesar,” “Full Moon Possession,” “Voodoo” (complete with audience singalong, in
which Stalvind urged the male audience members to “grab your balls” and female
audience members to “grab some guy’s balls” for maximum effect), “The Bite” and
“Speed On.” Wolf were definitely my favorite band of the weekend to this
point, although there were a couple of big guns remaining on the bill this
evening. Setlist: Make Friends with your Nightmares, Hail
Caesar, Full Moon Possession, Voodoo, Steelwinged Savage Reaper, Skullcrusher,
Evil Star, The Bite, K-141 Kursk, Venom, Speed On.
For me and the people who inhabit my circle, Armored Saint were easily
the most anticipated band of the weekend. Obviously, the Californians
released four classic LPs in the 1980s and early 1990s before largely
disappearing when John Bush joined Anthrax, only resurfacing every few years
and for very limited appearances after that. Last time I got to see
Armored Saint was at Wacken in 2000, so it had been an awfully long
drought. The most recent two albums (especially ‘La Raza’) are less
revered by old-school metalheads, so the only real trepidation I harbored going
into the night was how the setlist would look. I needn’t have worried as
Jen and I wormed our way to the front of the pit to a couple of nice spots on
the rail where we remained unmolested for the remainder of the evening.
Blasting off with the classic Saint opener, “March of the Saint,” then seguing directly
into “Long Before I Die,” Armored Saint made a compelling statement right out of
the chute. Good lord, they sounded incredible. It was like time had
stood still for the quintet, which was comprised of the same five dudes who
played on 1991’s ‘Symbol of Salvation.’ The Sandoval brothers are still
shaking massive manes of dark curly hair, Jeff Duncan’s still ripping on lead
guitar (filling the shoes of the lost but never forgotten Dave Prichard), and
mohawked Joey Vera remains one of the most energetic and dynamic bassists in
heavy metal. No, I didn’t forget John Bush: The man simply
ruled. His head may be shaved bald now, but Bush sings with more power,
control and conviction than he did a quarter century ago. He nails all the
screams and bellows out the vocals as he relentlessly stalks the stage, shadow
boxing and surrendering himself to the power of the music. At one point,
he hopped down from the stage, went through the photo pit and up against the
barricade to sing with the crowd. (He needed a boost from security to get
back on the stage, prompting one the security guards to remark, “This isn’t in
my job description.”) Oh, and the man definitely speaks his mind, even
when it ruffles the feathers of the prog elitists. Personally, I loved it
when he let the hundreds of lazy fans sitting in their seats have a little
razzing (“Are you a little drunk? A little stoned?”). I welcomed his
comment about “Shit happens sometimes when you don’t have your own crew” after
technical problems with Phil Sandoval’s rig scuttled a planned guitar duel
between him and Duncan during “Book of Blood.” (The PPUSA “family”
recoiled that this was some kind of insult directed at the event’s crew.
Balderdash. No doubt the PPUSA crew is dedicated, loyal and hard
working. I don’t question that for a second. But when band after
band experiences technical problems with their guitars, despite generous
30-minute set changeovers, something is amiss. Good for Bush for not
tiptoeing around the subject, but calling it like he saw it.) And Bush
nearly brought the house down before “Can U Deliver” when he said something
like, “We were so young. We’re not young any more, but we feel
young. If you know the words to this song, sing along. Even if you
don’t know the words, which would be fucking lame, you can still sing.”
Was it the most perfect, ideal Armored Saint setlist ever created? Well,
no. If I had written it, it would have included gems like “Conqueror” and
“Dropping Like Flies” and “False Alarm” and “Underdogs” and “Human
Vulture.” But what the Saint delivered was a pretty damned amazing
overview of their crimson career, a trip through red times, as it were.
There were three tracks from ‘March of the Saint,’ three from ‘Delirious
Nomad,’ two from ‘Raising Fear,’ and another three from ‘Symbol.’ Amongst
the expected “hits” (“Last Train Home,” “Chemical Euphoria,” “Can U Deliver,”
“Nervous Man,” “Reign of Fire,” “Madhouse,” etc.) were a few well-chosen deeper
cuts that I wouldn’t necessarily have expected (“Tribal Dance,” “Book of
Blood,” “Aftermath”), but was super-pleased to hear. And I didn’t have
any problem with the three post-classic period Saint songs they performed
(“Head On,” “After Me the Flood,” “Left Hook from Right Field”), which in truth
are among the strongest tunes from those last two records. Come on, it’s
not like they subjected us to “Chilled” or “Little Monkey” or something.
Basically, the set was strong from top to bottom, and the 75 minutes flew by in an instant.
The bottom line is that Armored Saint remain far more potent and vibrant than
many of their contemporaries. I had an amazing time at this show, singing
my lungs out on the rail and marveling in the glory of the Saint. (Phil
Sandoval and John Bush often made eye contact with the punters upfront and
smiled approvingly as we sang along. Phil pointed and tried to toss me
his pick at the end of the gig, but because I’m a klutz I didn’t catch
it.) Because Armored Saint’s live appearances (particularly on U.S.
shores) are such rare events these days, don’t miss the chance to see them if
you should get it. Even in 2013, with band members entering their 50s,
Armored Saint represent everything fantastic about 80s American metal.
Setlist: March of the Saint, Long Before I Die, Head On, After Me the Flood, Last Train
Home, Tribal Dance, Book of Blood, Left Hook from Right Field, Chemical
Euphoria, Aftermath, Can U Deliver, Reign of Fire. Encores:
Nervous Man, Madhouse.
The last time Sabaton played ProgPower USA (in 2009 during the ‘Art of
War’ tour cycle), they electrified Center Stage with one of the most
talked-about shows in PPUSA history. That night, promoter Glenn Harveston
promised the festival attendees that Sabaton would be back as a headliner
someday. That day was today. Of course, much has changed for the
Swedish camouflage-trouser-wearing dudes in the interim. They have
released two more studio albums. They have experienced a veritable
explosion in popularity overseas that has catapulted them to headliner status
all over Europe, enabled them to win the coveted direct support slot for Iron
Maiden in Sweden, Germany and Russia, and spawned a level of fanaticism
exhibited by the 5.5-hour signing session they did at Wacken this summer.
A less pleasant change is that the Sabaton camp has experienced substantial
upheaval, with four members being unceremoniously ousted in early 2012 and
replaced with three new guys (one of whom has since been replaced
himself). Live keyboards have been done away with altogether, with the
band choosing to use playback for those parts instead of having a sixth member
in tow. At the time, the lineup changes saddened me because I knew and
liked the ex-members (particularly keyboardist Daniel Myhr, with whom Jen and I
had enjoyed several long conversations over the years in Europe and the
USA). In terms of live performance, though, Sabaton has not lost a
step. The new guitarists (Winterlong axeman Thobbe Englund and Nocturnal
Rites’ Chris Rorland) and veteran drummer Snowy Shaw are consummate live
performers, and if anything their injection into the Sabaton stew has made the
band an even more deadly live juggernaut than before.
The Sabaton stage looked fantastic, with an enormous ‘Carolus Rex’ banner
covering the entire back wall and the stage stripped entirely clear of amps,
cabinets, guitar rigs, etc. It was just the musicians, the drum kit, and
four mike stands (one for each guitarist and two for bassist Par Sundstrom to
use, depending on which side of the stage he was on). After a
too-long intro tape consisting of Europe’s “Final Countdown” giving way to “The
March to War” (what’s with these double intro tapes bands are using
nowadays? Shut off the tape, come out and rock, won’t ya? I
promise, we’re ready), a cacophony emerged from the PA and a voice intoned,
“Alright ProgPower, are you ready? We are Sabaton and this is “Ghost
Division.”” Then pandemonium broke loose. The four camo-trousered
Swedes sprinted across the stage at full speed, hair flailing and axes
flying. And the crowd went berserk, or at least as berserk as a PPUSA
crowd can be, motionless and resting comfortably in their theater seats.
Sabaton’s travel itinerary this week had been grueling, as they’d flown from
Sweden to Puerto Rico yesterday, played Puerto Rico last night, flew to Atlanta
this afternoon and were now rocking PPUSA. If they were tired, though,
you’d never have noticed. (And they were tired. Sundstrom told me
later that after the gig they went straight to the hotel and off to bed, before
their morning flight to California.) This one of the most athletic
performances I’ve witnessed this side of a classic Raven gig, with all members
moving at full velocity and max energy from the first notes of “Ghost Division”
through the final strains of “Metal Crue.” (This doesn’t really fit here,
but I caught one of Rorback’s picks at the end of the night, so I somewhat
redeemed myself after whiffing on Phil Sandoval’s pick earlier.) A
particular favorite moment was during “Primo Victoria” when the entire pit was
leaping up and down in unison with the band and singing along with the
chorus. I looked over at Jen and there she was, big smile on her face,
hopping up and down and singing in full voice. That’s my metal wife.
All the earmarks of a successful headlining gig were here. Joakim Broden
(he of the footy shoes with fingers for each toe) is an effective, and engaging
and often funny frontman. He was cracking jokes about how everyone
remembered his pants splitting last time Sabaton played here, and how his
limited English vocabulary mostly consists of four-letter words which the
children in attendance should disregard. He added a couple of zingers for
the PPUSA crowd, remarking at how odd it was for the band to present a song in
Swedish in the United States when “you can barely speak your own language” and
saying something along the lines of how American crowds aren’t that great but
that we were good for an American audience (ouch, damning with faint
praise). No one seemed to mind, though. Also, Sabaton have a wealth
of great songs in their catalogue from which to select, and while the setlist
tilted a bit more towards the ‘Carolus Rex’ material than I would have
preferred, the songs were overall well-chosen and mostly killer. Stuff
like “40:1,” “White Death,” “Cliffs of Gallipoli,” “Carolus Rex,” “Swedish
Pagans,” and “Attero Dominatus” just goes over brilliantly in a live setting
with the crowd singing along and the band rocking out mightily. As most
people know, Sabaton’s setlist gimmick is to give the audience choices at
several different junctures. “Who wants to hear ‘Song A’? Who wants
to hear ‘Song B’?” Whichever one gets the loudest response is the one
they play. Unfortunately, PPUSA audience wanted more ‘Carolus Rex’ and
less old stuff, which meant we got screwed out of welcome options like
“Midway,” “Uprising,” and “Into the Fire,” but that’s okay. The setlist
played was more than adequate. To augment the usual “audience, you
choose” schtick, Sabaton added a feature in which Broden passed the microphone
to another band member at various times to let him pick a song that allegedly
wasn’t on the setlist. Tobbe picked “Cliffs of Gallipoli” and Par picked
“Attero Dominatus,” both of which obviously would have been on the setlist
anyway since they’re among Sabaton’s most well-known classic songs. Snowy
Shaw threw a wrench into this little charade by picking “Run to the Hills,” and
beginning the familiar drum intro. “You’ll never get the microphone
again,” joked Broden.
My only real criticism of Sabaton’s performance is a minor one: The sound
for some reason seemed muddier for them than it had been for any other band all
weekend. I mean, it wasn’t awful or anything, but it was noticeably worse
than it had been for, say, Armored Saint. And Sabaton had their own
crew with them, so presumably they set things up sonically exactly how they
wanted them. That was a bit of an annoyance, but no more than that.
Overall, it was fascinating to see how Sabaton have transformed themselves into
a bona fide headliner act that belongs on the big stage closing out the
night with a 90 minute set. Sabaton have already conquered Europe and
word has it that North America is next on their hitlist. Expect multiple
Sabaton tours in the USA next year upon the release of their next album, and by
all means go check them out. These guys work extremely hard and are quite
good at what they do. They’ve worked for every scrap of success they’ve
received, and they will not rest until their panzer battalion has rolled from
one American coast to the other. Don’t bet against them.
Setlist: Ghost Division, Gott Mit Uns, Carolus Rex, 40:1, Poltova, Carolean Prayer (in
Swedish), White Death, Cliffs of Gallipoli, Swedish Pagans, Price of a Mile,
Lion in the North, Attero Dominatus. Encores: Art of War, Primo Victoria, Metal Crue.
Rumors are rampant that ProgPower USA’s fifteenth installment in September 2014
will be its last. Jen and I have been going for 13 years, and we cherish
the musical experiences we’ve had and the friends we’ve made. That said,
we’ve never viewed PPUSA as the infallible godsend that so many of its devotees
appear to do. Band selection is always an iffy proposition, with as many
as half the bands every year having no interest or appeal to us. The
“lame” factor in the crowd is rather embarrassing and very real. And, you
know, all good things must end. Whether or not next year marks the end of
the road for this festival, we’ll be there to see our friends and see some
killer bands. That said, our ambivalence for the roster underscores the
annual problem we have with the PPUSA formula. From the dozen bands
announced, we will look forward to seeing Overkill, Jon Oliva playing
‘Streets,’ Stratovarius, Orden Ogan, Masterplan, Voodoo Circle, and basically no
one else. That’s par for the course for ProgPower. But hey, the
formula has worked to sustain the festival at high levels of attendance and
financial independence for 14 years, so who am I to argue?
~ Review by Kit Ekman ~