Machine Head

with Obituary, Napalm Death at Club Babyhead
by Paul Lee
photos by Dan Bento

Sick things make me smile. Memories of my brother making himself vomit to avoid going to elementary school give me a silent chuckle. My friend feeding his pet pig bacon one Sunday afternoon had me in tears. So when I heard that Machine Head, Obituary, and Napalm Death were doing a show at Club Babyhead, a big ass smile went across my face.

For death metal heads, this was the show of the year. Babyhead was packed at 9:00 p.m. and the place looked like a stomach cavity ready to hurl. As the intro feedback crawled from the speakers, Machine Head (Roadrunner) hit the stage and that old feeling of joy crept back upon me as I allowed myself to be blown away. Sure there were sound complications and conditions that every new band faces in the early stages of an intense show, but Machine Head overcame all factors of lameness and proved themselves worthy of the opening slot. This is metal for the ’90s, pure power and feel. They are a young band and had the Tommy Victor (Prong) syndrome, trying to insight a mosh and not letting it happen naturally, but by the end of their set, everyone was converted.

As the next act started to crank their mid-set sound check, I overheard someone next to me saying “This is going to be much louder.” Napalm Death (Earache/Columbia) needed no fanfare to bludgeon the crowd with the most intense core heard in a while. The road experience of this band showed and shined through their ever-so-tight set. All I could say was, “What?”

For some strange reason, the crowd started to thin out at this point of the show. Where were all the diehard fans? Tribal drum intro. Obituary (Roadrunner). Where the fuck was everyone!!?! The problem here was that the crowd (granted some were moshing) was just too mellow. Is death metal dead? I couldn’t help but blame the resurgence of punk (Green Day, Offspring, etc.) and curse this foe of modern metal. One dazed yet smiling guy with a broken nose bleeding profusely emerged from the pit, tried to walk around me and finally made it to the exit. “Now that’s more like it,” I thought to myself.

Obituary remains king of those who play death. The show went on until about 2:30AM and the place filled up again as “Slowly We Rot” poured over the crowd like buckets of blood in a sea of hammerhead sharks. “Now that’s more like it!”