Is this your (stolen) CD collection?

If you’ve visited this blog before then you may have heard the following story. Namely, a few years ago I purchased two 500-CD lots from independent record stores. On both occasions I thought I’d first enrich my music collection and then make a killing on eBay by flogging off those items I didn’t want — but it turns out I didn’t make very much at all by selling CDs for 99 cents each (also, there was a reason why all those CDs were selling so cheap in the first place).
So I promised myself I’d never do it again. I resisted. For a while anyway. Yet despite my best intentions I recently fell foul of temptation a third time, albeit on a smaller scale. This time it wasn’t a lot of CDs from a record store, but someone’s privately owned (and no doubt once highly cherished) heavy metal music collection.

I came across the below just the other day while having a sticky beak into what looked like a recently opened pawn shop. I walked in and sitting right there on the counter, amongst the overpriced audio-recording gear and sporting implements, was what you see here. It was labelled “heavy metal collection” and after a quick flick through I realised this was no ordinary run-of-the-mill heavy metal CD collection. No, this was someone’s classic death metal, black metal, grindcore and Australian heavy metal collection, painstakingly put together, I estimate, from some time in the mid to late 1990s up to the early 2000s. It was packed with classic items, most of which I don’t own, and it was for sale. Right there. On the shop counter.

A treasure? Or someone's stolen treasure.

I asked the pawn shop sellers how much for the lot and after agreeing on a price I picked it up the next day and proudly posted photos of it on Facebook.

I should mention that the pawn shop accepted cash only (“They want to charge me 17 per cent for EFTPOS,” one of them said). Then when I enquired as to how this collection came to be up for sale I was told something along the lines of the original owner passing it on to another family member, or somesuch, who in turn did not want his offspring to be exposed to “that kind of music”.

At the time it seemed like a vaguely plausible explanation, but after sharing photos of my find with my friends I got a little suspicious.

“Might be worth checking some forums to see if anyone had their collection stolen. Kinda odd it’s not been sorted and still in racks!” said one person, adding “I wouldn’t advertise it as some douche will probably try and claim it. But just scan to see?”

“There are pretty good laws in place that second-hand stores have to follow about cataloguing and holding onto things for a set time first. If the owner’s gone to the cops there is a paper trail,” said another. “Hmmm…” I thought.

As a heavy metal lover and passionate collector of CDs, vinyl, and gimmicky merch, I sincerely understand what a collection like this means — or at least meant at some point — to its owner. More to the point, I myself was burgled two or so years ago and while the stolen laptop and DJ CD decks were easily replaced, the bile-inducing anger that is the thought of someone breaking into your house was much harder to forget. Fact is, I would be mortified if I discovered I was in possession of someone’s stolen treasure.

WAS IT STOLEN?

There are a relatively small number of people in Melbourne who love the sort of music found in this collection: death, doom, black, grind and generally more heavy and extreme Aussie metal (Portal anyone?). It’s also quite probable that, if this were a stolen heavy metal music collection, the owner would have vented about it online and sought help.

So I’d be extraordinarily grateful if you could help me establish that it really isn’t stolen. Starting with this question: is this your stolen music collection? I hope it isn’t. Do you know anyone who has had their heavy metal collection stolen? Again, I hope not. But if you do, maybe ask them to have a look here.

Help me make sure it’s legit. And if it is stolen, nothing would make me happier to return it to its rightful owner.

Note: The size of the above photo has been deliberately reduced to make the titles on the CD spines harder to read. I’ve also added several “decoy” CDs — items from my personal collection which had no relationship to the original find. If this is a stolen music collection and the genuine owner can be identified, he or she will know exactly which items *don't* belong here. Sorry folks, but this is to ward off any scammers.

Iron Maiden patches

I recently got back from a weekend holiday to Sydney where, in addition to doing a whole lot of touristy stuff, I also got to re-visit Utopia Records.

No idea what they sell in there.

 

Utopia Records, as you can see, is the sort of record store that very subtly hints at what it’s about before you walk in. And being a Melbournoid, I must confess that I’ve only been there once before, during the previous Iron Maiden Australian Tour. I’d flown up with a mate to catch the Sydney concert and after seeing a full page in the local street press that said words to the effect of “Utopia Records fukken owns Maiden” or something like that we just had to go. It turns out they’d crammed the place with Iron Maiden merch and apparently the Iron Maiden discography was being played in chronological order. It was absolutely wonderful and the only thing that prevented me from staying and genuinely wanting to be there was the incredible tiredness of a stupid o’clock early morning Tiger Airways flight (also, I will never forgive Tiger for severely telling us off and refusing to let us take photos when, as we stumbled onto the tarmac, we suddenly spotted Ed Force One, the Iron Maiden jet flown by Iron Maiden singer Bruce Dickinson himself, standing right there in front of us — but that’s another story).

This time my visit there was more sedate. There was no Iron Maiden special but I did grab some CDs, an Iron Maiden keyring (of course), and several heavy metal patches.

Music-wise I bought two albums. The first was Gwar: Scumdogs Of The Universe. I firmly believe it’s a real gem of a ’90s metal album from a band that, once you remove the funny costumes and rubber masks and wacky back-story, is actually a very underrated heavy metal band. In this case I finally got a CD version of the album I played countless times as a kid, that album originally being a scratchy copy of a pirated Bulgarian cassette tape (true story — even the label was mistyped “Scumdocs Of The Universe”).

The second was a much hyped album by a band called Nails, titled Abandon All Life. Fawned over by a Terrorizer magazine reviewer who gave it the full five stars, this is one hard as hell release that’s heavier than the backlash from a French nuclear test in the Pacific, despite being just 17 minutes long. It ain’t bad, although it’s not quite as face-meltingly heavy as I thought it might be.

I also bought three patches, of which Utopia Records has a pretty good selection.

These were of course destined for my mostly Iron Maiden-themed heavy metal battle jacket. And you know, Id’ be lying if I said I didn’t get at least a small kick out of the many compliments directed at me when I wear this jacket — although I draw the line when dudes looking at it in admiration want to shake my hand while I’m at the urinal (’nother true story).

 

Heavy metal patches. The best kind of patches.

 So now I’ve got three more heavy metal patches to add and I’m starting to run out of space. To quote Krusty the Clown when faced with the prospect of having nowhere left to apply more nicotine patches: “I think there's still a spot on my butt.”

Even so, there’s always room for one more, as the saying goes. Instead, more worrying is the problem of keeping track of each individual patch. And by that I mean, you sometimes lose track of which ones you already own! In this case I inadvertently ended up with two version of the Powerslave patch!

That's because I'm twice the fan.

Oh well. The fact that I had to get the same patch twice just shows what a super-devoted fan I am.

Right?

Top Five Tuesday: Chinese black metal, Cathedral’s last doom metal opus, and The Devil foresees an Extinction Level Event

It’s time for Top Five Tuesday. Five songs, releases, videos, stories, or whatever else comes to mind that are well worth following up. I think all this music is pretty cool and hopefully you will too. This time it’s mostly metal and guitar-driven stuff…

5) Tengger Cavalry — if there’s such a thing as cavalry metal, this is it
So there’s a guy in China who loves black metal. He also likes folk metal, either knows how to play a variety of traditional folk instruments or knows people who can, is capable of throat singing, and has a thing for ancient Chinese history.

Let me repeat that. Black metal + Chinese folk metal + traditional Chinese instruments + throat singing + songs about riding horses on the steppes.

He started a band called Tengger Cavalry and the two people that I know of who’ve heard the track Cavalry Folk have loved it. Maybe you will too?

The double-album arrived in the post the other (“Hello dearest, a package arrived in the mail. It’s got Chinese writing all over it”) so I won’t say much else until I pick it up.

4) Cathedral – Tower Of Silence

For whatever reason I never got into UK doom metal masters Cathedral. I think it was a combination of just somehow missing out on this much loved band and not being too crazy about Lee Dorian’s vocals.

So Cathedral finally and gracefully called it quits not too long ago, but not before putting together one final album, The Last Spire. It’s officially due out on April 29, 2013 and word on the street whispers from the depths of the crypts of solitude are that it’ll be a good one.

This track, Tower Of Silence, is said to be their last ever official promo video. I love it just for the stripped back, Black Sabbath-esque lead riff which, seriously, doesn’t get any doomier than this. It’s as if they thought, screw this, less is better, and while we’re at it lets have a jolly good old time being all dark and depressive while shooting a video that pays homage to our favourite Hammer Horror flicks. This is heavy man.

 Cathedral: Tower Of Silence from the top. Or if you’re lazy, just skip a minute into the riff.

3) Ethernal — melodic black metal from the UK

Sturgeon’sLaw is a belief often applied in art and culture that essentially says “ninety percent of everything is crap”. Indeed, if I had to nominate a music style where this was especially rife I would have to say… well, actually, I was going to say black metal but come to think of it, it’s all of them actually (except for Aussie hip-hop — which really is consistently awful).

Black metal is a genre that comes to mind when thinking of Sturgeon’s Law because it’s a genre so notorious for its kvlt silliness and deliberate low-quality (i.e. rubbish) recording production. It’s a genre that’s easy to do badly — but is also one that can work brilliantly when done right.

UK black metallers Ethernal are one such group that fall more in the latter camp. They’re a genuine black metal outfit who, while not doing anything earthshakingly different, still go far enough to keep it interesting. Specifically, through a combination of half-decent song-writing (note: “half-decent” is Australian for “rather good”) coupled with a focus on melody over filthy guitar fuzz — all the while still conveying that fatalistic spirit found in good black metal.

I came across Ethernal on a recent Terrorizer magazine compilation CD, featuring the track Seat Of Kings. I love the melodic intro on this one, so much that my personal Last FM listening stats tell me I’ve played it no less than 21 times so far.

It’s worth noting that the Ethernal Bandcamp page offers the The Black Sun EP as a free two-track download, which is very nice of them. Plus, in case you’ve never used Bandcamp before, you can listen to everything else they’ve got, in full.

I’m looking forward to hearing more of their stuff.

2) The Hellfreaks — psychobilly from Hungary

 The Hellfreaks — Boogie Man

This group I came across on one of the many excellent (and great value for money) Gothic compilations. Published in Germany, the Gothic compilations are a wonderful snapshot of happening bands in Europe — and also a reminder of how much bigger “the scene” is in Europe.

So this band featured on Gothic Compilation Part LVI (part 55) and it’s the second psychobilly track I’ve ever listened to properly (as in, ever, in all time). The first one was the track before it on the same compilation, Strange Times Are Coming, by none other than the “originators” of psychobilly, The Meteors.

The Hellfreaks as far as I can tell are from Hungary. They go out of their way play up the imagery, with very heavy emphasis on the over-engineered sexiness of the lead singer. And after you hear her unique voice you’ll either a) want to hear plenty more, or b) you’ll be reaching for a hacksaw to remove your ears.

Interestingly, many of the comments left on their videos seem to be from crusty old psychobilly lovers who seem to love the slap-bass and can’t stand here her vocals. Personally, I love ’em. Either way, The Hellfreaks are a band that are sure to divide people. They also seems to have a sense of humour, if their short rendition of europop stalwarts La Bouche’s Be My Lover is anything to go by.

Check ’em out and give these tracks a listen: The Hellfreaks.

1) The Devil — fantastic “soundtrack” metal built around audio samples and no vocals

This artist is another Terrorizer magazine discovery, and a group about which public knowledge seems to be strangely lacking. What I know comes from a small and somewhat silly magazine interview in which they kind of explained why they remain anonymous and wear masks. Nonetheless, they’re one of those bands that are so mysterious and elusive that their music hasn’t even leaked (yet) into the usual channels.

What is legitimately available for public viewing, however, is a collection of two videos that showcase not only their style but also their awesome multi-media skills.

The first of these videos, Universe, deals with alien conspiracies. The other, Extinction Level Event, is cut up speeches about nuclear war post-WWII. Both make superb use of actual footage and tell a story (because I refuse to use the term “narrative”) put together from various samples. A written description couldn’t do justice to these tracks.

I love them both, so please, watch these vidoes.

 The Devil — Extinction Level Event. And don’t forget to watch the mind-blowing
footage of a bus getting vapourised during a nuclear blast.

 The Devil — Universe. Massive UFO conspiracy business going on here.

Soundwave Melbourne 2013 in photos

As the title suggests, I got to attend the 2013 Melbourne leg of the Soundwave festival tour. In case you’ve been living for too long on one of Jupiter’s inner moons (or you’re just not from Down Under), Soundwave is the largest Australian music festival of its kind to feature predominantly guitar-based alternative music.

The last time I went to Soundwave was two years ago, where I got to tick off that bucket list box labelled “I’ve lived” after seeing Iron Maiden for the fifth time. This time my must-see artists were Anthrax — who I sincerely hoped would play some cuts off the classic and crowd-favourite Among The Living album — and, to a lesser extent, Metallica. The most successful heavy metal band in history had visited Australia several times in the past but I’d never caught them live, so it would be good to tick them off that list. There were a few more bands I wanted to check out despite not being intimately acquainted with their music: Mindless Self Indulgence, Vision Of Disorder, Cypress Hill, Ghost, and a few others. But other than that, I’d be happy as long as I got great performances from Anthrax and got a reasonable dose of old-school Metallica. Anyone else that stood out during the day would be a bonus. Here’s how it went.

Preparation is of course the most important component for an outdoor festival. Take those trusty 12-up bovver boots as an example. Yes, one’s feet get sore by the end of a long day, but they’re essential protection in any situation where a large crowd is expected to do a whole lot of jumping up and down in a packed space. A proper hat, sunnies and sunblock are also vital. While wide-brimmed hats are better for sun protection, I’ve blogged previously how I discovered the hard way that such a hat can lead to unexpected back injury. Therefore, constant re-re-re-application of sunblock is necessary. As an added bonus, a pasted face of inch-thick white cream means you’ll fit right in with the crowd should you happen to be seeing a black metal band. Other essential items include the programme (sorry, program), emergency poncho, and a robust pool of cash to pay for the most expensive food and drink in Melbourne.Not shown: trousers, which are better than shorts if it’s cold and also mean less sunblock needs to be applied; and unimpressed fiancée, who noted that I stripped the whole bed just to get the neutral-white background for this photo but then ran out of time because I had a train to catch.

The whole act of just getting to a festival is in itself something of a ritual. On my way to the city to meet mates Al, Gabi and their friends for breakfast, I managed to feel much older than I was comfortable with after eavesdropping on some kids who had the following conversation: “Oh, she’s moved to Baxter. Baxter, really? I had a cat called Baxter… but he died. Yeah? My cat diarrhoead all over the floor this morning.”

Kids today, eh?

After a very solid man-sized breakfast — the only kind of breakfast to have before a music festival — we boarded the party train for Flemington Racecourse. Again, the buzzing vibe on the way in is all part of it, leaving the train as you get nearer, spotting nervous-looking prats on the lookout for sniffer dogs and picking the right gate to enter. You look up as you hear the noise from some not-so-distant stage and shuffle through security. And then you get to the most essential and wallet-destroying part of it all: obtaining your pisshead pass, i.e. your 18+ armband. Then you get your bearings. Which usually means heading straight to where that armband gets used.

A good part of the day was spent within the separated 18+ area. It’s separated by a fence but as you can see the stage is still visible. This is a big improvement on the last time I was there, where you couldn’t see or hear bands from the drinking area, meaning you had to be constantly vigilant of times.

I genuinely believe that separating it this way is the best way to run the show. The worst-behaved crowd I’ve ever encountered was at the 2011 Future Music festival. This was a fully 18+ event with no restrictions on where you could take alcohol. There was booze everywhere and I witnessed at least two unpleasant scuffles or fights, plastic bottles getting randomly thrown into the crowd, and a raver mate getting roughed up because he was wearing an LED lights outfit as part of his outfit. This at what was technically a dance music festival (as if there wasn’t enough alcohol all over the place, the giant Smirnoff logo, flashing in sync with the music on a smaller stage, was hard to miss).

We were actually quite comfortable with drinking alcohol behind a fence for most of the day while seeing bands we weren’t utterly devoted to. Your hearing doesn’t get obliterated, you preserve your energy, and quite frankly, I’ve done my share of hot sweaty crowd crushes.

Anthrax was the first band we’d intended to check out, booked to play the criminally early time of 12.30 in the afternoon! From where we were sitting we would be directly opposite the stage, so we waited for The Blackout to finish their set on the one adjacent to the right.

The Blackout’s Wikipedia entry say they play “post-hardcore” and while their singer seemed to angrily shout, scream and jump around a lot, their audience didn’t seem all that into it, something that was evident by the lack of a significant response when he leapt into the crowd.

At one point he introduced the next track to the crowd with words to the effect of “this is the best track we’ve done all year” or somesuch. I think we were getting a bit over it when suddenly we heard this tremendously heavy, electrifyingly bad-ass sound coming from the stage opposite us. It was the Anthrax guitar tech doing a quick sound-check and, oh boy, it was the best 30 seconds I’d heard all day.

Sorry The Blackout, but the Anthrax sound-check had more balls than your entire set. Which is just as well, because Anthrax were just about to hit the stage.

Where to start? Why not with Caught In a Mosh — as much of an anthem as you’ll ever get when it comes to thrash and speed metal. Show the band that just played how to really do it. It was loud. Fast. Energetic. Kids around me who weren’t even born when this album came out were totally getting into it. It was followed by Fight ‘Em Til You Can’t (which really is about zombies), taken from the latest album Worship Music, and then onto one of their best known tracks (albeit a cover), Antisocial.

I decided I’d head closer to the stage and arranged to meet Al and Gabi later on. As I approached, singer Joey Belladonna fired up the crowd up with a call to start dancing. “A war dance!” more specifically. For those not in the know, this is a reference from the track Indians — an Anthrax live staple and, as you can see, the perfect excuse to don an Indian war bonnet.

The most magical moment from the whole day came next: the song In The End. The second track from the latest Anthrax album, Worship Music, I later found out it’s a heartfelt tribute to Ronnie James Dio and Dimebag Darrell, two metal greats who are no longer with us. I don’t have Worship Music so I didn’t recognise the track at first, but the message was very clear through its sombre church bell intro, slow and epic pace and heart-wrenching chorus. As the song started, two large flags with bright portraits of Dio and Dimebag were raised. “It’s Dimebag!” I heard someone say excitedly next to me.

Also, at this time I got the first of many compliments on my Iron Maiden battle jacket. I wasn’t complaining. For now anyway.

Oh man, if a tear-inducing tribute like that didn’t move you, then the next and closing track surely did. Bassist Scott Ian, who incidentally has one of the best beards in metal, introduced the next track as coming from their forthcoming Anthems EP of cover tracks. “We think you might know this one,” he said. “So we’d like you to help us play it by singing along.” A few seconds later, the heart of every bogan within a 10km radius swelled with rockin’ Aussie pride. It was T.N.T. by none other than Acca Dacca. You don’t have to guess what happened when the crowd joined the of-course-you-know-this-bit “Oi! Oi! Oi!” that goes for much of the song. And it was even more authentic by Joey Belladonna’s uncannily good mimicking of AC/DC singer Bon Scott’s unmistakable nasal drawl.

Alas, Anthrax’s painfully short and early set came to an end after a mere 40 minutes. Apparently at the Brisbane concert they closed with I Am The Law (the most metal song ever about Judge Dredd) but it was not to be. Nonetheless, it was everything I had hoped for in a performance. Part I of this day was successfully accomplished. Now I just had to survive the rest of the day until Metallica.

After Anthrax I went for a bit of a wonder to check out Mindless Self Indulgence while Al and co caught Stone Sour. While I can’t say they’re my cup of tea there’s no denying singer Corey Taylor’s qualities as both a front-man and a vocalist. I caught most of the opening track before I was on my way.

When I arrived at what I was certain had to be the Mindless Self Indulgence (MSI) stage I felt a tad bewildered, as did a whole load of people who seemed to be waiting aimlessly for something to happen. The pic shows the stage where MSI were meant to perform… so where was the band? All that was to be heard was the sound check for Billy Talent (which had nothing on Anthrax I might add). A row of vaguely confused people were leaning against the front row of the empty stage, but not much else was going on.

I eventually asked one of the security guys what the deal was and he responded that the band’s baggage had been lost. Indeed, Soundwave promoter AJ Maddah later scathingly Tweeted that Virgin Airlines had lost the band’s equipment. So there was nothing to it but to see what else was going on.

As I said, I’d planned to catch up a bit later with Al, Gabs and the rest of my group, but with a full set’s worth of nothing to do something else to do I went for a wonder. I caught the closing track from metallers Sylosis, which I recall wasn’t all that bad, but didn’t blow me away. The dude at the bottom of this pic wearing the Bulls shirt obviously thought differently.

Also, it was around here that I got another random compliment or two about my Iron Maiden jacket. I still wasn’t complaining. But by the end of the night some dude liked my jacket so much he wanted to shake my hand in the toilet. But more on that later.

As if MSI’s mysterious no-show didn’t already throw a spanner in the works, it soon emerged that confusion was brewing among patrons due to seemingly contradictory set times. Just after Sylosis some random dudes asked me if they could compare set times. Their “official” programme, which they’d collected from the gate, differed from mine, which I’d brought from outside the venue.

Look carefully (click on the pic for a close-up, changes are highlighted) and note how Fozzy / Sylosis / Orange Goblin have been switched around on Stage 5, while Slayer was moved to a completely different stage entirely.

And this was them. One of these dudes was really concerned that he’d miss Orange Goblin (one of the bands above that had been shuffled around). Hell, if one of the bands I’d specifically come to see had their stage time changed and I didn’t know about it I’d be just a tad agitated too. They seemed nice enough and not too crushed that they might have just missed their favourite band — which is more than I can say for some of the confused and very unhappy Slayer fans I overheard on my way back to meet the rest of the group.

We caught up and decided it was time to get another drink or two. Forget footwear, adequate sunblock, a hat, water or any other precautionary measures to make the day less harmful: the things that will sustain the most damage during a festival are your wallet, followed closely by your liver. Yep, that really is $11 for a can of spirits and the slightly less outrageous $9 for a can of beer.

Consider that tickets alone were almost $200. That’s a lot of cash to get sunburnt, bruised, trodden on, worn out, maybe even pushed around all day, then followed by a long and tiresome trek home. Yes, we wouldn’t have it any other way!
We reconvened and caught Tomahawk. Now this band has always been a quirky to say the least and the performance was no exception as vocalist Mike Patton snarled, sang, chirped, hummed, roared, rhymed, whistled, whispered and sang his way through 45 minutes of twisted weirdness.
Now I have the utmost respect for Mike Patton’s four trillion side-projects and incredible vocal range. Nonetheless, I suspect there was a contingent of die-hards at the front who totally got it while the general gist I got from where we were sitting was that everyone else at this arena-sized venue didn’t get it (and no, funny how it sounded nothing like Faith No More). Sadly, I didn’t get any pics of Patton telling off someone in the audience, singling them out because, as Mike Patton said, “I’m trying to work here”.

After finally getting out of the booze queue it was time to kick back and catch some Slayer. This would be the third time I caught them live — I’d seen them once at their previous Soundwave appearance, and before that when I was 16 or so (yikes!) at Festival Hall.

There were no major surprises in the set. It was chock full of classic Slayer including: War Ensemble, Altar Of Sacrifice, Jesus Saves, Seasons In The Abyss, Dead Skin Mask, South Of Heaven, Reigning Blood (of course) — and one of my Slayer favourites Mandatory Suicide. This is one of those tracks that is always better live than the original studio version.

It’s worth noting that Slayer were the most high profile of the half a dozen bands to suffer from this year’s “Soundwave drummer’s curse” after Slayer Drummer Dave Lombardo had parted ways or been dismissed after a financial dispute with guitarist Kerry King. I say that because I suspect a lot of people were thinking about exactly that every time we saw substitute drummer Jon Dette (who incidentally was also filling in for Anthrax’s Charlie Benante) on the big screens .

Tom Araya (shown) can still very much rock the hell like it’s 1986. And although it’s not in the least bit related, check out this official and very lovely Slayer Christmas sweater that sold out in record time.

With Slayer over we headed off to A Perfect Circle. I’m not a huge fan — I’ve only owned one album which I ended up selling — whereas Al was a major Tool / Puscifer / A Perfect Circle / general Maynard fan. I didn’t mind, although their set seemed laid back, slow and quite minimalist. Only when Al pointed out that “they’re playing all their mellow stuff” did I realise that it wasn’t just me.

Incidentally, this was the closest we got to the stage for any band throughout the day. It also served to debunk the debate as to whether Tool / Puscifer / A Perfect Circle vocalist Maynard actually exists. True blue Tool fans know that in the spirit of smell-your-own-fart-because-we’re- that-awesome that only a progressive rock act can cook up, Tool’s stage performance requires singer Maynard to be visible as only a fleeting shadow or illuminated pattern. That is, Tool is a band that performs with a singer who is not visible on stage. This was the case at their last Big Day Out performance (look it up if you don’t believe me) and it occasionally leads to the theory that Maynard either doesn’t exist or at least isn’t there on stage.

On this occasion Maynard was indeed there, fully visible to the audience, donning what looked like a funny wig thing. He didn’t, however, move from his little soap box on stage, choosing instead to spend the entire set standing in that position.

A Perfect Circle finished at 5:20. We kind of agreed without actually saying it in so many words that we’d take it easy for a bit, so we headed to near Stage(s) 2 to camp out for a bit. We were getting a bit tired, but clearly not as tired as this guy. Imagine shelling out $200 to see your favourite bands, only to sleep through the event!

Cypress Hill may have seemed like an unexpected choice for what is ostensibly a guitar shredding festival. However, considering Cypress Hill mainman B-Real’s background with more than just dabbling with metal it didn’t seem so out of place. It wasn’t for us though. We eventually caught the last track, (Rock) Superstar — minus guitars — before Garbage fired up in the adjacent stage.

Gabi was the real Garbage fan among our ranks. I personally don’t mind them that much — back when I still had idealism I used to attempt appalling DJ mash ups using Cherry Lips and industrial tracks — but like A Perfect Circle and Stone Sour, they’re not on my playlist.

Garbage front-woman Shirley Manson’s Wikipedia page makes reference to her “formidable stage presence” and that at least is something I can agree with. Despite her small frame, her deathly serious diva look and coagulated blood red hair and makeup made her difficult to miss. And man, did she own that stage.

Between songs I chatted a bit with Gabi about the band and we agreed that there was something of a gender imbalance among the performers. Apart from Shirley Manson, the Paramore vocalist, the two girls from Mindless Self Indulgence and the girl from Fucked Up, we couldn’t think of any other outfits (or at least good ones worth seeing) among the 70+ bands on the bill that weren’t composed exclusively of men (NOTE: leave a comment if there are any others).

Garbage closed and it was time to dig in and catch Metallica. They were due to start at 7:45, but from memory it was later than that. I seized the moment and decided it was time for a crucial toilet break. Except… when the sun goes down on a festival, the freaks come out and things get really crazy. You need to be careful who you bump into because you might just unexpectedly run into Skeletor.

And then there’s the actual toilets.

NOTE: Before you reach for the sick bag, that filth is just accumulated MUD AND DIRT from thousands of feet trudging through the toilets all day. Nonetheless, festival toilets are one of the least glamorous aspects of a festival, and they get progressively more feral throughout the day.

As the saying goes though, “when you gotta go, you’ve gotta go.” Nothing to it then but to pull up your pants — as high as I could pull them I might add — and do the business. Indeed, images like this are another reason why big stompy boots like my 12-ups are essential festival footwear. At least I had my own space around me. Earlier that day I had to do my best stare-ahead after I getting deliberately shoulder-bumped by drunks at the urinal. Then on the next occasion I heard a voice behind me exclaim his praise for my Iron Maiden jacket. I turned around and he told me “mate, that is just beautiful.”

Then he insisted on shaking my hand.

“Ah… cheers mate, but you know, I haven’t washed my hands,” I said.

“Mate I don’t give a fuck,” he responded warmly.

I still didn’t shake his hand and I think that was the last compliment I got for the night.

Finally it was time to see Metallica. A little bit late to hit the stage I think but it was on nonetheless.

They opened with Hit The Lights, a golden-era speed / thrash metal anthem from an album that was released — are you ready for this — 30 years ago. Being played, right there in front of thousands of people, all rocking out like mad. THIS was heavy metal.

I won’t go into excruciating detail about how fantastically old school the MetallicaSoundwave set was. You’ll get a better account by clicking the previous link for the full set list, where you’ll notice that all bar one track were classic songs from the first five albums.

Yes, Metallica are rightly an amazing live band who know how to rock out. In no particular order, here are some of the things that really stuck with me.

For a start, people around us were having religious moments. A young girl who we’d never seen before was windmilling near us like mad when she buried her head in the shoulder of someone in the group. Quickly asked if she was ok, it turned out this was the first time she’d seen Metallica and she could hardly believe it was happening.

There were so many other, smaller things that worked beautifully. Robert Trujillo just being an incredible bassist, and Leper Messiah being introduced by James Hetfield with “Cliff wrote this”. Or the fact that, according to the previously posted set list link, My Friend Of Misery “has only ever been performed 18 times including this Soundwave show and only ever before as part of the complete [Black Album] album shows of 2012.”

And then there were all those song that I’ve heard countless times over the years, but which translated so well live. Harvester Of Sorrow with its slow, plodding beat and fatalistic riffing and Nothing Else Matters, which made me want to break out into spontaneous waltzing.

There is nothing more metal than the band that wrote Creeping Death playing it live in front of a couple of thousand people (even if, as every Metallica fan should know, guitarist Kirk Hammett took the “Die! By your hand” bridge that everyone loves from a track from when he was in Exodus, along with several other of Metallica’s best riffs).

As with Anthrax, so too did Metallica — live for the first time in my life — deliver everything I could have ever hoped for. I’ve been as vocal a critic as anyone for the last 20 years’ worth of material but you know what? Screw the haters. They were awesome live and I, along with just about everyone else there, loved every moment of it.

And then… home at last!

Tired. Sore. Thankfully not sunburnt but feeling a bit out of it as you can see.

Then Patapuss appeared for an investigative sniff. I bet he was thinking “where have you been all day?”