 |
|
|
|
|
 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Ah, Ozzfest. Our annual dose of metal, in convenient festival form. Like any single-day event featuring more than a dozen bands, this year’s Ozzfest was a mixed bag. No discussion of any event at the Darien Lake Place Where They Have Concerts (anyone else think calling this place a “Performing Arts Center” is a bunch of nonsense?) is complete without mentioning what an intensely crappy place it is to see bands. I won’t even get into the traffic problems – the sound at a Darien concert is horrible nine times out of 10. If you can’t afford anything better than a lawn ticket, don’t even bother. From the lawn, you can see almost nothing, and what you manage to hear is an incomprehensible sludge. If you are foolish enough to, say, get hungry over the course of a 12-hour concert, you’ll be missing two or three of the bands you paid so dearly to see, because the wait for any food is at least an hour.
 |
Ozzfest itself is a pretty sad indicator of the state of rock music today. Instead of genuine emotion, social agitation or a countercultural underground, we get carefully packaged pseudoanger designed to sell the most $6 beers and $40 t-shirts possible. Giant corporate sponsorship banners adorn the stage, you can’t get an autograph from your favorite band without buying one of their CDs (even if you already own it), and even the Marines have their own recruitment tent in the middle of the festival. So much for rock being anti-establishment.
|
|
 |
|
 |
|
|
|
You’re probably wondering, “Is this idiot ever going to actually talk about the music?” Yeah, I will. But I have one more axe to grind: this whole Dimebag Darrell thing. He was a tremendously talented guitarist who helped create some kick-ass metal. His murder was tragic. But making him into the patron saint of metal seems tacky and morbid. Between the art exhibit, the ubiquitous Dimebag t-shirts and all the bands dedicating songs, albums and concerts to him, I have to wonder how much money has been made off of his name since his death. I think it’s time to let the man rest in peace.
 |
Second Stage: Black Label Society. Zakk Wylde never hesitates to unleash his guitar pyrotechnics, ripping off one barrage of notes after another. With the Society, his solos have been crafted into the songs so they become an integral part of the music. With the sound at the second stage sub-par and echoey, Wylde’s soloing and angry-soulful voice were just about the only things that you could hear clearly. Wylde’s vocal style makes Black Label Society sound like Alice In Chains if they’d been a hell of a lot heavier. His oddly low and gruff speaking voice sounds a little too much like Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs. I kept waiting for him to admonish the audience: “It puts the lotion on its skin.” Wylde also established another Ozzfest trend I hadn’t been aware of – you can’t be metal if you don’t use the word ‘fuck’ at every possible opportunity. When addressing the audience, they must be referred to as ‘motherfuckers.’ This rule was followed by every single band. Inserting the word ‘fuck’ into your band name is a more advanced tactic, one that Wylde used frequently. “Black Fucking Label Society” certainly has a nice ring to it. Limited vocabulary aside, BLS started my day at Ozzfest, (our photographer started much earlier) and it was a crushing, intense set that stood up as a highlight.
|
|
|
|
 |
|
 |
|
|
|
Second Stage: Ozzy. After a short set change, Wylde returned to the stage to perform guitar duties with Ozzy himself. Having seen Ozzy rip up Buffalo’s Memorial Auditorium in 1992 (the “No More Tours Tour,” guess that didn’t work out), and considering all that had transpired in the intervening years (ATV accidents, idiotic TV shows), my expectations were not terribly high. But the Ozz-Man was in surprisingly good health, roaming the stage looking spry in his jeans and manic stare. Sure, his batting average for hitting the notes he was trying to sing was about a .700, but the man puts on a good show. Godfather of Metal and all that. After a long intro video showcasing many highlights of Ozzy career, the band hit the stage and slammed into the classic “ I Don’t Know.” At this point, the God’s above started to cry as a major rainstorm began, but nothing could stop the OZZMAN. The remainder of the setlist was heavy on Ozzy solo tracks and too light on Black Sabbath, though “Into the Void” was a nice treat. Wylde’s unaccompanied guitar solo, complete with behind the head playing and soloing with his tongue (or teeth), would have been impressive but for one thing: he did the exact same schtick with Black Label Society not 20 minutes earlier, on the same stage. This time he extended it into the Star Spangled Banner, complete with patriotic computer graphics that just happened to have been ready for this spontaneous and heartfelt rock moment. I’m kidding. It came off as a lame attempt to pander to the chest-thumping, flag-waving element in the audience. The computer graphics that accompanied Ozzy’s set were lame in general, making parts of the show seem like the intermission entertainment at a hockey game. Even Ozzy’s hackneyed catchphrases (“I Can’t Fucking Hear You!” and “Get Fucking Crazy!”) had their own graphics. It was disappointing that an otherwise great set of classic metal had to be layered in so much cheese. (ed note: We were not allowed in the photo pit to take pictures of OZZY)
 |
During the changeover from second stage to first stage, I wandered the various booths. There are basically two products available at any Ozzfest, no matter how many booths are present: t-shirts that have the word ‘fuck’ on them (possibly with some kind of slightly clever phrase), and drug paraphenalia. Now, I wasn’t expecting Chianti and educational lectures, but it appears that there is no bottom for American culture to hit.
First Stage: Dragonforce. Lead singer ZP Theart is probably the best singer on any stage at Ozzfest this year. Unfortunately, the sound problems rendered Dragonforce’s intricate, melodic speed metal virtually unlistenable. The triumphant impact of all those glorious choruses and guitar solos was lost. The band also lost some credibility for two reasons: 1). All their songs are played at the exact same tempo – really, really fast; 2). The use of a keytar on stage.
First Stage: Lacuna Coil, Hatebreed. I have no idea what either of these bands were like, since I was hungry and it took an hour and a half to buy a single pretzel.
First Stage: Avenged Sevenfold. Another set wrecked by muddy sound. Avenged Sevenfold’s music is extremely busy. These guys never met a note they didn’t like and want to play. As much as I dig their music, even with the pristine recording quality of their studio albums, the blizzard of drums and guitars can start to wear on you after awhile. When it all sounds like you’re listening to them from the men’s room of a bar down the street from where they’re actually playing, it just turns into sonic muck. Too bad, because M. Shadows is one hell of a frontman, and his improbable voice holds up perfectly live. Their cover of Pantera’s “Walk” (guess who it was dedicated to?) was well received by the crowd. |
|
|
|
 |
|
|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
First Stage: Disturbed. Finally, the sound clears up. Just in time for a band I have no interest in whatsoever. There’s probably a herd of Disturbed fans who might read this and think up all kinds of clever insults for me, most of which will probably include the word ‘fuck,’ but there’s no way around the fact that these guys are a carefully crafted metal product with two goals: shift units and sell concert beer. And maybe shill for the U.S. military if they get a chance. They were clearly the most professional band I’d seen all night, with an arresting stage presence. That big silver drum riser is cool. The band whipped the crowd into a sort of mild, tired, drunk frenzy. Getting the crowd pumping fists in the air is their main crowd participation tactic. I’ve never liked the sight of several thousand people doing anything in unison, especially fist pumping. My mind involuntarily superimposes old newsreel footage of Nazi rallies. Disturbed indeed. Makes me think of Tool’s 2001 tour, when Maynard James Keenan urged the audience to repeat the “Non-Conformist’s Oath.” All together now! Most of them didn’t get it.
 |
|
|
|
|
In any case, I wanted to see System of a Down, I really did. As the only truly subversive voice in the entire festival, I was curious how the crowd would react. But all that “Ooooahahaha” stuff in Disturbed’s set was getting too painful, and I didn’t feel like sitting in another Darien Lake two-hour traffic jam, so I left the concert to the sounds of Disturbed’s cover of the Genesis hit “Land of Confusion.” Amazing choice of a song to do an updated version of, I do like what they did with it. So in the end, I was the biggest sell-out of all, trading my chance to see SoaD for a quicker car ride home. (Luckily our photographer did, see pics below). The only question I have left about Ozzfest is this: why the hell don’t they have The Sword in the lineup?
|
|
|
|
 |
|
|
 |
|
|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
|
|
