The older generations refer to it as “doing to mosh”.
As in, “Are you going to be doing the mosh tonight?” or “Be careful! Don’t hurt yourself while doing the mosh!” and of course “My daughter talks about doing the mosh with her friends. Should I be worried?”
I mean, if you are at an age where you can remember voting for Ronald Reagan in the Reagan vs. Carter presidential election, then you might be inclined to worry. Especially, if at that age, you were at the Paradise Rock Cub last Saturday where the firestorm of energized audience members rose to explosive levels. For the faint hearted and those taking the appropriate medications, it would appear worrisome. But not for the rest of us. That night FIDLAR headlined, supported by the raw tones and fast rhythms of Tigerman Woah and METZ, and the sweltering sweaty packed house “did the mosh” with a joyful fury.
Lynn, Mass’s own Tigerman Woah opened with an unique combination of old school country and modern punk rock. Their tattooed arms and long unkempt beards could be likened to a biker gang version of ZZ Top . The music matched their look. Devlish vocal growls and mischievous guitar licks kept the audience on their toes.
These heavy metal hill folk took the audience on a road trip through Appalachian mill towns, Louisiana bayous and south western deserts. With loud cheers after each song, the boys from Lynn seemed to become more and more empowered, setting in motion the engine of chaos that would only accelerate into the night. An upright bass and a banjo ukulele flew over the quick bouncing rhythms and the crowd (already fairly packed) began the first phase of “doing the mosh”. In good natured sort of way, Tigerman Woah started a gale of madness that would only get crazier.
The Canadian noise rock trio METZ followed and immediately turned the volume and speed dials up several notches. It was shoegaze on amphetamines. Unrelenting and unforgiving. The wild storm rumbled and revved as Metz played songs such as “Dirty Shirt”, “The Swimmer” and “Wait in Line”, and the kids and young adults celebrated by taking up more space to “do the mosh” faster. A scene of arms thrusting and bodies surfing. The lead singer of METZ, Alex Edkins, asked the audience to “enjoy themselves” but to “make sure no one gets hurt. If you see some one fall, you gotta pick them up!” With that a dirty bass line cracked along as the lights flashed bright yellows and reds. The crowd became a swarming mass of rocking bodies. It looked fun, I thought I watched from the balcony. In the name of journalism, I decided that if I wanted to accurately report on the night’s show I would have to find away into the epicenter.
After some maneuvering I entered the inner workings of the Pit. Things went black, the an orange light, then yellow, then black again. I saw faces, then bodies, and whipping hair. Push, shove, push, shove, jump, thrash, push, shove. All at dashingly fast speeds. All with big teethy smiles. I struggled to keep balance and took an elbow to the head and thought nothing of it. METZ raged away as the audience did the same. It was a blast, but I only lasted a few songs before I was out of breath and dripping in sweat. Many audience members kept going and METZ kept blaring at full volume and (barring one or two mid tempo songs) full speed. As I retreated I felt like an old man. “How does that skinny blonde in glasses play the guitar so fast? How do these kids keep doing the mosh song after song?”. I went to grab a water and a beer to recharge on necessary fluids. I wanted last for FIDLAR.
I wasn’t quite ready to “do the mosh” when FIDLAR, in a resounding blast of noise, opened with “Stoked and Broke”, but the rest of the crowd were. From the balcony I scientifically observed the insane fluid dynamics of High Schoolers, College Kids, and Young Adults all excited to whip up a nor’easter of rocking bodies. It was like watching an overflowing storm drain. They rushed to the front of the stage and were pushed back by security. The swarming mass moved back and forth and side to side while in the eye of the storm, in the Pit, people ran at each other at full speed. Several figures crowd surfed, their silhouettes riding along the dynamic waves of sound and excitement. We the crowd became an unruly ocean of sorts. Lead vocalist Zac Carper, appropriately donning a Hawaiian shirt, howled out the punkish and surf rock inspired “Max Can’t Surf” and people continued to go wild.
The raw and powerful “No Waves” and “Cheap Beer” followed, their catchy vocal and guitar melodies trembled and shook the sold out venue. FIDLAR threw in a short cover of Weezer’s “Sweater Song” before blasting into a new song of their own “40 Oz On Repeat” a song about beer that drew cheers and garnered my intoxicated interest. With verses that were emotionally loud and a chorus that was surprising gentle and perfect to sing along to, FIDLAR entranced the crowd. As I felt the pounding music reverberate through my body and as I watched the audience members bounce around like a drugged up circus ride, I decided to get back into the Pit.
It was a trip trying to get back to the center. Hardcore/heavy metal fans who frequent industrial underground venues would scoff at my timidity but the struggle was real. I worried how I would keep up as I entered the storm. The flying figures had endless energy that I had to somehow match, less I lose my head, or at least my shoes. Charging forward, I promised myself I would last the rest of the show in the Pit. Yes, I could feel the stakes heighten as I entered front lines. The air was thick and humid and full of musical war. The lights were alternating between blacks and blues. The music was shattering my ear drums. Faces disappeared and reappeared as people flung about. A punch to the back here, and arm thrust there, all the while FIDLAR rained down an artillery barrage of tunes. “5 to 9” and “The Punks are Finally Takin Acid” were among the notable bombing runs.
We had to help hold up crowd surfers and keep an eye out for stage divers. The stage divers are a funny sort. They have to wait for the security to be preoccupied. If the moment allows it, the stage diver quickly hops the fence and runs for glory. That night some made it. Some did not. I saw one poor fellow slip as he lunged for the stage. That momentary delay was enough for the five security guards to pounce and struggle to pull the man away. They took him out of the concert hall and, I speculate, out into the back alley to be shot.
The Pit continued its cyclone of madness and the power driven rock shattered whatever energy I had left, but I had to hold on, I had to maintain. I had to report from inside the storm, where the real show was. FIDLAR kept blasting away. Zac, the vocalist, was drenched in sweat and acted like he escaped the madhouse [in fact this was their last stop on their tour, so in sense, they were escaping the mad house]. He got the crowd to sing “Happy Birthday” to the bass player Brandon Schwartzel and I couldn’t tell if it was some big joke if it was actually Brandon’s birthday. At times Zac pretended to faint and flounder on the ground. During one particularly long set, while the rest of the band played away in a mentally tight instrumental break down of layered noise upon noise, he lay upon the stage, eyes closed, as if his life force was spent. As if he had sacrificed himself for the sake of the concert’s energy.
Amazingly, the old soul that I am, I managed to last for the encore. The first song was a banger; “Wait for the Man”. During the middle part of the song, Zac asked the audience to “get weird” and “sit on the floor”. Amped on adrenaline and alcohol I was all for it. We sat on the ground as the music grew soft and then slowly, slowly, began to build back up.
“When I say stand, you all have to stand, OK?” Zac called. We cheered as the song continued to build. The drums thumping a hypnotizing stomp and the bass crunching away into the dark. The tension was rising, people were giggling at the oddity of sitting, squished next to sweaty strangers.
The music grew louder and louder and finally Zac shouted “STAND!”. Most of the audience shot up immediately. I stumbled and fell over and nearly lost my hand to someone’s boot.
The crowd rocked away. The energy was peaking. FIDLAR played the rowdy “Cocaine” as their final song. The guitars and bass and drums and vocals and cheers of the audience swelled to the highest heights yet. And then, like that it was over. The final raw wave of insanity came crashing down and left me and many others in a daze. On my way out with my ears ringing, someone managed to point out to me that I had a streak of blood on the back of my t-shirt. I wasn’t hurt. It must have came from someone else. Man, you gotta love shows where they’re “doing the mosh”. What an awesome show with powerful bands and a fantastic audience. FIDLAR et al, I can’t believe you can be so energizing and engaging even at the end of your tour. I don’t know if I could give the same performance, after the second night, let alone all that follow.
