Black Label Society @ Metropolis

When one goes to a Black Label Society show, they are sure to witness a few things. Entire redneck families (including young children) come to represent their set, as well as an army of middle-aged dudes in jean jackets and bad pants. Drunk girls line the venue and there's a 100% chance of getting beer spilled upon you. There will be lots of guitar solos, as well as posturing. The colour black will soon become the only thing you see as you try to mingle with the drunk throng.

Knowing all of these dangers, I still took the assignment. I've seen the BLS circus before and didn't mind it. Granted, it was in the middle of the day and Zakk Wylde and his cronies played for 45 whole minutes, but I wanted to get the perspective of a full show and so enthusiastically embarked upon this strange adventure.

The scene is quickly set as soon as I exit St. Laurent metro. There is a rather overweight man in a Black Label Society t-shirt pissing against a nearby wall and yelling obscenities at a friend, who is standing at a safe distance from the pisser. The offender seems to not care about public decency and people keep walking by him and offering up negative comments, which he promptly ignores... But beyond it there's a certain charm to the music of Zakk Wylde and whoever comprises his band these days. It is what it is, there are no pretensions nor lofty ideals, the music and its subject matter are presented as is.

I soon check the adjoining streets near the venue for mobile homes, hoping to glimpse at least one. Meathead metal acts like Black Label Society tends to bring out the masses from far and wide to celebrate all things lowest common denominator, and mobile homes are a sure indicator. After a fruitless 15-minute search, I head into the venue.

After enduring two songs, I quickly dub opening band 2Cents "lolmetal". The singer's second-rate Phil Anselmo stage antics (as well as a haircut stolen from 1996 Phil) quickly grow boring, and the band's mixture of "good ol' boy" groove metal and straight-up thrash feels like a retread of greater things. The band is a huge fan of the middle finger – they use it to wave hello to the crowd, they flip each other off and they also use it to indicate any technical problems to the stage crew.

The paradox inherent in such a band is odd: they chastise the crowd for not moving and make fun of "emo kids" while mock slitting their wrists and make anti-homosexual comments but they dry-hump each other like it's going outta style. Their "we're one of you, fuckers!" approach certainly makes a few converts but their juvenile demeanor leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

Mercifully the band ends with a so-so cover of Pantera's "Strength Beyond Strength" and they quickly exit the stage.

Clutch, the second act of the evening, is the odd man out on the bill. Opening with "Pure Rock Fury", the band's southern-tinged rock stylings went over lukewarm in a crowd full of people wearing jean jackets and studs. Stand-outs "The Mob Goes Wild" and "Power Player" bring out some energy, and during "50,000 Unstoppable Watts" I witness an honest-to-God moshpit. Apparently these kids are ready to move to anything. Neil Fallon still wanders the stage like an angry middle-aged father, expelling his strange tales of doom and death with a ferociousness unmatched by many of the other acts of the night. Their 45-minute set seems a tad too short, but by the end of it some of the naysayers actually seemed to enjoy it, uncrossing their arms and clapping in-between songs.

Penultimate act Children Of Bodom take the stage just after 9 p.m. The Finnish act certainly has the chops to impress, and their keyboard-ready brand of technical metal is entertaining, though somewhat over the top in a Overkill-meets-Goblin kinda way. Bandleader Alex Laiho sounds like Power Rangers baddie Rita Repulsa as he thanks the crowd for their enthusiasm in-between songs. Their 8-song set is a pure primer in Bodom: Starting things off with "Silent Night, Bodom Night" (off of 1999's Hatebreeder), the band rolls through a litany of hits, including the title track to 2008's Blooddrunk and "Living Dead Beat" from 2005's Are You Dead Yet?. 2003's Hate Crew Deathroll (perhaps their most well-known work) was represented by "Angels Don't Kill" as well as the set-closing title track. A little too much keyboard and flashy soloing for my taste, but the crowd seemed very amenable to the act.

A few things dawn on me as I watch Zakk Wylde and co. perform their first three songs: the paramount point is that Zakk's limited vocal range is quickly apparent. He sounds like a cross in-between an old man and a bag of angry kittens being punched, a litany of "waaahhhhh"s and "oooooooooh"s flood the Metropolis.

Wylde has also apparently abandoned using steel chains as a guitar strap, as he had done on previous occasions. This is a shame, but it tones down the larger-than-life persona Wylde has accumulated for himself.

I also quickly note that all the jokes about Wylde loving his squealies (or in proper terms, his pinch harmonics) are true. The dude is enamored with the sound that one guitar can make, and inserts them heartily into every song. This trend continues for four more songs before BLS up the ridiculousness to a whole new level.

The circus of absurdity continued as a giant Baldwin piano (complete with a huge BLS sticker on it) gets wheeled out so that Zakk can perform his ode to Dimebag, the overtly sentimental "In This River". The laughably terrible video featuring mini-Zakk and mini-Dimebag is played on the video screen and a huge amount of camera/camera phones go up as Zakk intones his misplaced ode to a departed friend. The expensive piano gets wheeled back out as Zakk kicks into "Fire It Up", and then that gives place to a 7-minute guitar solo.

The solo is the worst part of the workmanlike set as the very tinny sound makes it hard to make out particular notes, it's a flurry of cascading noises that sometimes sound discernible. I make my way around the venue from the balcony to the floor just to make sure it isn't a position problem. Sadly, after this rather informal scientific experiment, I conclude that the soundman noted that most of the audience was drunk and so sound quality isn't of paramount importance.

Thankfully Black Label Society don't believe in encores and so the last four tracks act as a set-closing pleaser. Strangely enough the sound suddenly gets better during "The Blessed Hellride" and the band is firing on all cylinders. Somehow the band managed to pull it together, only unfortunately it was a little late to start bringing their A-game. As the closing "ahhh"s of "Stillborn" faded out and Wylde left his coffin-shaped guitar on-stage to create some feedback as the house music was faded in.

Overall it was an average performance from an unremarkable band that delivered exactly what it promised: heavy metal with anthemic choruses and the occasional ballad in order to switch things up, and the audience asked for no more and no less of the man known legally as Jeffrey Phillip Wieldandt.

Black Label Society setlist:
1. The Beginning... At Last
2. Crazy Horse
3. What's in You
4.The Rose Petalled Garden
5. Funeral Bell
6. Overlord
7. Parade of the Dead
8. In This River
9. Fire It Up
10. Guitar Solo
11. Godspeed Hell Bound
12. The Blessed Hellride
13. Suicide Messiah
14. Concrete Jungle
15. Stillborn