The Brothers Cavalera

Are they going to play mainly new songs or will they dig into the vaults of one of the greatest metal legacies in existence? How are they possibly going to avoid getting overwhelmed by openers Dillinger Escape Plan, one of the best live bands in the world? After years of banging my head to the Cavalera brothers' old band, Sepultura, I had no idea what to expect coming into their Irving Plaza show July 20th.

The thrill of seeing screamer/guitarist Max Cavalera and drummer Igor together on the same stage is one that the world's missed out on since 1996, when Max left Sepultura at the height of their popularity. Since then, Max indulged his nü metal side in Soulfly. Igor ran his old band into the ground with a group that claimed the name "Sepultura" about as convincingly as the band that calls itself "Lynyrd Skynyrd" does today. They're not quite ready to reunite the old band, but Cavaleras are making music together again, and Cavalera Conspiracy's new album, Inflikted, is the best release from either party in a decade. But they'd have to play more than that to not get blown away by Dillinger Escape Plan.

Diving into "Pansonic Youth," Dillinger's show was loud and violent even by metal standards. Guitarist Ben Weinman nearly decapitated his bandmates on several occasions, swinging his guitar around by the strap and frequently lunging into the crowd. He never missed a note in the process. Weinman and acrobatic lead singer Greg Puciato couple Fredrik Thordendal's precision with Kurt Cobain's disregard for peril, but there's really no other force in metal that competes with DEP's blend of incredible musicianship with an out of control performance. When Weinman's ESP cut out right before the start of "43% Burnt," rhythm guitarist Jeff Tuttle jumped in with a haunting instrumental until the problem was fixed, confirming that nothing could stop the music or spontaneity of their set.

Riding on Ire Works, one of the decades' best metal albums and arguably DEP's finest to date, the band gave deafening tracks like "Fix Your Face" and "Party Smasher" the performances that they deserved. Save for "Milk Lizard," an entirely fantastic blend of Converge, AC/DC and a horn section, the band's more melodic moments were all left at home. Even if it meant dusting off tracks from obscure, older EPs like Under the Running Board, Dillinger played their most abrasive music all evening. It was all a metalhead could ask for, and then some, in the form of a move that shocked this longtime DEP fan.

"We're going to change up the set a little tonight," stated Puciato. "We've done this song maybe three or four times before, and that was only at the Warped Tour, for a bunch of 14-year-olds who didn't know who Van Halen are." My mind rushed with excitement as I hoped to hear "Ain't Talkin' 'bout Love" or "Unchained." Beyond my highest expectations: "This next song's called 'Hot for Teacher.'"

The ensuing cover was one of the greatest things I've ever seen at a show. From the peerless drum intro to the perfect chorus to every distinguished cover, DEP nailed one of the best songs in hard rock history. Puciato gave David Lee Roth's high-pitched hollers a hardcore makeover while Weinman and drummer Gil Sharone gave the brothers Van Halen the mathcore metal prestige that they deserve. DEP could be forgiven for losing their momentum after that, but they still outdid themselves by culminating with "Sunshine the Werewolf," off Miss Machine. Puciato climbed into the rafters and flung himself into the audience, Tuttle jumped in after him, and the set ended with the band members pressed against the congregated fans in the jam-packed mosh pit, rocking out to the bitter end.



The severe New York humidity and body heat in the room were taking its toll on the front row, and male headbangers fought the furnace-like conditions by downing water and removing their shirts. Our collective wimpiness was exposed when the shaggy, warmly-dressed band walked onstage. Dreadlocked, bearded and sporting his signature Brazilian-flag six-string, Max Cavalera grinned broadly while his heavily tattooed brother waved and sat behind a kit of almost Neil Peart proportions. Prolonging the anticipation, Igor stretched the drum intro of "Inflikted" for several measures until Max's herculean growl pushed the song into motion. But after a few new songs the show really took off.

The thunderous drumming to "Territory" took over the venue, and suddenly everything about the show seemed bigger and stronger. One of the best songs off Sepultura classic Chaos A.D., the screamalong anti-occupation anthem resonated more than ever before. Max clearly caught the audience's response. "We're going to play everything," he vowed through a thick Portuguese accent.

Cavalera Conspiracy did try to play everything, which was sometimes at the expense of the songs. Playing all the top-notch Sepultura songs would've kept us there until August, thus songs like "Arise" and "Dead Embryonic" cells were shortened and rushed through to fit into the set. The all-star band, which was filled out by bassist Johnny Chow (Fireball Ministry) and lead guitar whiz Marc Rizzo (Soulfly, Ill Niño), often sounded like a heavier Bad Brains, with breakneck-paced political songs thrashing into each other over a rigorous set. Their cover of Brazilian hardcore staple "Polícia" sounded like a Cavalera original next to the faster live renditions of "Innerself" and "Biotech is Godzilla." But the pacing was a minor complaint for an excellent show. The setlist passed my expectations, and the music was too arresting to think of anything else while the band was playing.

Like the band preceding them, whom Max honored by donning a black Dillinger Escape Plan XL, the Cavaleras stuck to playing their fastest and heaviest music. The tribal, percussion-heavy music that Sepultura mastered on Roots and Chaos A.D. was forgotten, and Soulfly may as well never have existed that evening. Instead, we got "Desperate Cry," "Propaganda" and a mind-blowing "Refuse/Resist," all of which rightfully made Sepultura one of the most respected bands in metal history. The absence of Sepultura's most experimental tracks underscored the world music influences in their heaviest music, which is part of what distinguished them to metalheads worldwide. Few bands can incorporate such diversity into death and thrash metal, and being in the presence of the Cavaleras playing songs like "Attitude," even without the digeridoo, was nothing short of awesome.

The band rescued "Troops of Doom" from their late-'80s death metal era, and introduced the song with a special guest. Igor, Jr., who didn't look a day older than 12, handled his father's drums to the audience's cheers of "Junior! Junior!" The boy clearly pushed himself to keep up effectively and showed promise as a death metal drummer. When his father came back on helm for "Roots Bloody Roots," Max, Chow and Rizzo took the song's relatively simple riff as a chance to throw themselves into headbanging frenzy. The crowd followed suit, creating a mosh pit that encompassed nearly everyone in the room until the song ended and the band walked offstage. Hopefully, they'll keep this up.



Being the second of a two-night stint, the venue seemed a little empty. Most metalheads in town had probably flocked to the Saturday show. Distressingly, the band that calls itself Sepultura today could probably sell more tickets, but any headbanger worth his salt could tell you that your best bet would be to check out Cavalera Conspiracy.

I caught the last two songs of Throwdown's set, which included a piece of fifth-rate, watered down Pantera and a cover of Alice in Chains' "Them Bones."

5 reasons to worship Soundgarden

My sister recently asked me for my take on Soundgarden. Obviously I haven't been writing enough about one of the best rock bands of the past 20 years.

Anyone with a remotely passing interest in rock n' roll needs Superunknown, Soundgarden's 1994 masterwork. (L-R) Kim Thayil, Matt Cameron, Chris Cornell and Ben Shepherd streamlined their sludgy, metallic grunge just enough to dominate the airwaves, but singer/songwriter/guitarist Cornell hadn't (yet) lost the aggression and integrity that made earlier albums like Louder than Love grab America by the ears.

"Black Hole Sun" is one of my very favorite songs. The video still gives me the creeps.



For dark, soul-searching music, there's little outside of "Paint it, Black" than can compete with this one. Thom Yorke must've been taking notes on the peculiar, alienated wordplay and ominous guitar work.

The very next song on Superunknown is "Spoonman," an ode to a famed Seattle street performer, who graces the track with some otherworldly spoon tricks.



God, this song absolutely slays. That drop D, 7/4 hook must've come from another planet. If "Black Hole Sun" was Soundgarden's aim at Pink Floyd, then they're all over Led Zeppelin here, with a fast, complex and melodic riff over Cornell's primal yet controlled vocal stunts. Even if he never wrote a good song, Chris Cornell would be an electrifying lead singer.

I don't know where to stop with how great this record is. "My Wave" didn't even make Soundgarden's "best-of," but for a band like L7 or Stone Temple Pilots, it would've been a career-definer.



There's a saying in the fight world, that every boxer has one match where they fight better than they ever have before or ever will again. The same goes for music, whether it's Who's Next, Houses of the Holy or Superunknown.

Superunknown is pretty unbeatable, but its predecessor comes tantalizingly close. Pompous music critics will tell you that Badmotorfinger was overshadowed by Peal Jam's Ten, Nirvana's Nevermind and Alice in Chains' Dirt. But anyone who's listened to all of those albums will tell you that Badmotorfinger is as good as any of those, maybe even better (if not quite as good as In Utero or Vs.)

Case in point: "Jesus Christ Pose," a grunge-metal monster before most people believed that the two could co-exist. Allegedly the song is mocking Perry Farrell, but who could even care when it rocks so hard?



As much as I like all of Badmotorfinger, I usually have to listen to "Outshined" two or three times in a row before I go on with the rest of the album.



Unfortunately, Soundgarden broke up in 1997. Since then, Cornell has increasingly streamlined his music, resulting in some tedious solo records and a forgettable stint in Audioslave. It's Matt Cameron who still makes good music, drumming for Pearl Jam. But I bet Chris Cornell still brings it live.

I have to stop myself before I indulge on the merits of "Rusty Cage" and Johnny Cash's excellent cover, "Blow Up the Outside World" and its awesome video, choice covers from their underground years or even more from Superunknown. But if the songs above didn't convince you that Soundgarden rules, there's always John Mayer.

This is Saul

Between the tinny acoustics, dwarf-sized stage and crowds walking in and out, Virgin Megastore in Union Square is one of the worst places to play a show in New York. But a great performer can make a connection under any circumstances, and that's exactly what Saul Williams did at his free show yesterday.

Williams blends the poet/songwriter tag more than any prominent artist since Patti Smith, but there's little in popular music to compare his style to. His vocal lines are too haphazard and verbose to captivate a casual listener, and his beats (produced by Trent Reznor on Saul's latest, The Inevitable Rise and Liberation of Niggy Tardust) are more industrial than hip-hop. But attentive listeners will be gratified by Niggy Tardust, and there's no way to turn a deaf ear to one of Williams' incendiary performances.

Looking somewhat like American Indians re-imagined by Sun Ra's Arkestra, a keyboardist, guitarist and soundboard guy took the stage with a rousing cacophony of noise rock, until Williams appeared, sporting war paint and a Mohawk. The frenetic music underscored the urgency in Williams' lyrics. "You want to blame it on the government/On why you got no money for your rent?"yelled Williams in the Public Enemy-sampling "Tr(n)igger." "The trigger is you, the nigger is you/So what you gonna do," stated the chorus, urging disheartened listeners into action.

Williams' rapping is most effective lyrically. He may be unable to drop a hook like Zack de la Rocha or M.I.A., but he's more articulate than either of them, as well as most of today's popular MCs. His approach is always socially aware and never nihilistic, a voice that strikes terror into the hearts of bureaucrats who suppress their fears that Williams could be right. It's the same logic that makes Chuck D a scarier and more compelling MC than Scarface.



Williams' best chorus came on a cover of U2's "Sunday Bloody Sunday," which sounded as fresh as it probably did when Bono was barely a dent in America's consciousness. The verses took Williams through the crowd and out the front door while his band sprung around and chanted the backup vocals. But they never lost control of their instruments, prodding their frontman to a new energy level with the "I Wanna Be Your Dog"-biting "List of Demands" and "Gunshots by Computer," an enthralling call-to-arms that remixes Nine Inch Nails and would've sounded great on Year Zero.

The evening's most somber moment was "Black Stacey," with a reggae-tinged beat and a jazz-inspired drum beat that complemented tales of a boy's search for identity. Later, "Convict Colony" shook with an aggressive, Ministry-esque beat that wrapped around Williams's tirade on incarceration, establishing Williams and the band as one of the best industrial acts in the world. The versatile, multilayered music on Niggy Tardust makes this the first Williams record where his tracks are exciting enough to ride with his lyrics. But the ideal way to experience Niggy Tardust is to catch Williams and his band on the road.

In the evening's only conventional moment, the bandleader asked the crowd how they were holding up. Apparently, Williams was so caught up in the show that he missed the roomful of kids dancing and singing along, but he made the fans confirm that they were not too "cool" to engage in the performance. "Fuck your cool," Williams drove the point home. "Your cool won't free you."

At the Gates: still standing

Reunited death metal bands like Emperor, Immortal, Cynic and Atheist should all take notes from At the Gates. Rather than phone in a token festival performance, play a one-off show in a tiny club that charges $90 per ticket or spend the set trying out new material At the Gates embarked on a full tour in appropriately-sized venues. They're playing all the best songs from their too-short recording career, and no death metal fan should miss this tour.

How much did this show rule? The band ripped into "Slaughter of the Soul," the title track from their definitive album, and Irving Plaza erupted at the instant singer Tomas Lindberg bellowed his first. Sporting a hat and a Manchu that conjured Morgan Spurlock, Lindberg led the band through Slaughter classics like "Cold," "Suicide Nation" and "Nausea," all of which superseded their conventional titles and gave a stronger wallop from the stage than from the album. Previously unbeknownst to to me, the rest of the band's oeuvre kicks ass, and older songs like "Terminal Spirit Disease," "Windows" and "Raped by the Light of Christ" were some of the evening's highlights.

Guitarists Anders Björler and Martin Larsson were mixed a little low, but the band's tenacity and the Plaza's acoustics overcame that travesty for the most part. The band seemed happy to be playing together again, thanking the audience far more than they needed to (it was our pleasure) and taking glee in sounding as brutal as non parodic death metal band could be.

At the Gates are much more concise than most of their death metal followers, displaying a hardcore appreciation that would be further explored with Lindberg's work in Disfear. Despite their brevity, At the Gates' songs pack in the best death metal elements, and sprawling solos, unrelenting double bass on Adrian Erlandsson's drum kit and the occasional mellow interlude were all represented in the set.



It's incredible that Slaughter of the Soul was released in 1995. It sounds as modern as Amon Amarth or Arch Enemy, and it's hard to think that melodic death metal was barely existent when At the Gates debuted. Historically relevant or not, the music rules, and Slaughter opener "Blinded by Fear" was the best encore anyone could hope for. At the Gates topped even that by following with "Kingdom Gone," a rare track from their first album that would highlight any Swedish death metal band's discography. I am now a bigger At the Gates fan than ever before.

Consider At the Gates a metal Pixies: Hugely influential, with a legacy that grows every year, and still amazing on stage. If they never record another note, they certainly don't have to.

The openers were a diverse bunch. Starters Toxic Holocaust played effective but generic punk-metal, treading on the groundwork laid by Motörhead, Venom and Discharge. Virginia-based thrashers Municipal Waste brought the best parts of S.O.D. and Suicidal Tendencies to the table, echoing the punk influences and comedic (tasteless) lyrics of both. Songs like "Headbanger Face Rip" had the audience chanting along as soon as they learned the words, and I'm guessing they sold a bunch of merch that night. Preceding At the Gates were Darkest Hour, who could be classified as metalcore but had enough of a death metal sound to not be out of place. Their music was strong if not spectacular, and their energetic stage show made them worthy of a spot on the coveted bill. On an unrelated note, it was the first time I ever saw a kid crowd surf with a boogie board.

Iann Robinson got a good interview with Tomas Lindberg before the show...

Put the boots to him

Remember how Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez teamed up to make the best thriller, action and horror directors in the world look like amateurs? That's not too far off from the new Melvins CD, with Big Business providing bass and extra drums. Sorry Boris, Neurosis, Harvey Milk and Jesu.


Nude with Boots continues the Melvins renaissance that kicked off with (A) Senile Animal, a shockingly cohesive and addictive record from one of the most willfully spotty bands in metal. Much credit is due to Big Business' Jared Warren and Coady Willis, who pushed grumpy old King Buzzo and Dale Crover into a punchier, tighter and heavier sound. Not that they're anywhere as friendly as as of the aforementioned bands that they inspired.

Nude with Boots is uglier and more obnoxious than (A) Senile Animal, even if it has some of the catchiest moments in Melvins history. "Billy Fish" has a riff and a chorus that STP would've taken to the charts, and the title track features almost playful drumming and possibly the least foreboding (major key? really?) guitar playing to ever escape King Buzzo's fingers. There are so many memorable measures on Nude with Boots that it often sounds like the band is parodying Soundgarden or Pearl Jam. The appropriately named "The Kicking Machine" crams 3 or 4 Zeppelin tunes into something that shakes and moves unlike anything that the Melvins have previously released. Elsewhere, the double drum kit assaults and King Buzzo's grimy riffage on "Suicide in Progress" spiral out of time, shooting down any chances of the band making a dent on rock radio.

The Melvins are a twisted bunch, and unwieldy tracks like their noirish take on "Dies Iraea," the minute-long "Flush" and the drone-fest "The Savage Hippy" could be construed as toss-offs the expense of the buyer. But Nude with Boots is an album, an odyssey of moods, noises, rhythms and awe-inspiring greatness. The bizzaro closer "It Tastes Better than the Truth" has one shouted, barely intelligible lyric repeated again and again, played over some militaristic drumming, several screams and what sounds like a guy freaking out over the phone. It's a collision of sound that GG Allin would be proud of. There's not a wasted second in Nude with Boots' 42 minutes, and if you like music, you should pick up this record.

Badass James Hetfield video of the month

I didn't stumble across James Hetfield's tribute to Waylon Jennings at a CMT special until recently. Now that I have, I can't stop watching it.

Any wannabe gangster can talk about how tough he is, how he's bad to the bone or a cowboy riding in a steel horse or whatever. The balls that it takes for a perceived renegade like Waylon Jennings or James Hetfield to sing "I'm for law and order, the way that it should be" is enough to send any carefully packaged, self-aggrandizing gangbanger running back to Hot Topic. Any real badass doesn't have to talk himself up the way most of these guys do.

Thus, Hetfield picks "Don't You Think this Outlaw Bit has Done Got Out of Hand," a Waylon song that talks down his gunslinger reputation. As rough and tough as rock stars get, James voices "just a good old boy, never meaning no harm." A more image-conscious metal god would find that lyric (and the thought of performing a country song) horrifying, but thankfully we have James and the gang to nail this song out of the park.

When asked about why he was on "CMT Outlaws," Hetfield replied, "They think I'm an outlaw, I guess, and obviously all of us in our ways are outlaws..."

This was recorded for a Waylon tribute CD, with James playing all the instruments, but I really like the way the band sounds on this version.

Country metal has a lot more potential than most people think. Rebel Meets Rebel (David Allan Coe and Pantera) was one of the best CDs I heard in 2006.

Still, those guys don't need to talk themselves up so much.