HEAVY MECCA
concert 'Clash of the Titans' show moshes more metal We're here to kick your ass, Philadelphia! -- Anthrax singer Joey Belladonna. With metal-monsters Anthrax, Slayer and Megadeth on tap for one evening of pure speed metal, the Clash of the Titans tour fulfilled that prophecy at the Spectrum last Saturday night. In what must have been the dream bill for the near-capacity crowd, the triple threat gave concert-goers the metal concert event of the year. Clash of the Titans is not for the timid. A few bouncy adolescent skate-punks hopped around to Anthrax, and scantily clad, moussed-to-the-nines glam gals swooned over Megadeth's Dave Mustaine. But by the time Slayer pumped the Spectrum full of searing speed metal, the hearty pit of slam dancers unleashed a reserve of energy incomprehensible to any poseur. But there weren't many Warrant or Poison fans around; the Philly crowd was definitely genuine. Megadeth guitarist Marty Friedman describes the show as "Monsters of Rock for real men." Gender was indecipherable from a glance at the shaggy manes (no mousse for the men, though, and not many women had baseball caps.) No one was without a tight black garment of some sort. Exposed flesh was the unwritten macho code, the better to flaunt tattoos. And every t-shirt in the place was shredded, tattered; they were the battle scars of shows gone by, not victims of pinking shears. Tipper Gore worries that bands like the Titans' bill will tell their audiences to disembowel their grandmothers or boil the neighbor's dog; she thinks they're psychotic. While hardcore heavy metal shows do have a history of fan-security guard violence, Slayer is trying to do something about that reality. Actually, Slayer brought their own security director along on the tour. His strategy is to respect the audience and talk to troublemakers, not slam them over the head with a billy club. Damages and injuries at Slayer shows are reportedly down by 50 to 90 percent. While the show was less dangerous, no true metalhead could have gone home disappointed. From Anthrax's politically sensible funky thrash tunes, to Megadeth's neo-apocalyptic hymns, to Slayer's dark, evilly twisted anthems, the Titans tour covered every base of the modern metal genre. Philly fans were blessed by the ideal order of bands. Anthrax got everyone flailing, Megadeth made heads bang but gave the rest of the body a break, and Slayer's infernal intensity recharged the crowd and ended the evening at fever pitch. Despite these three heavy hitters, Clash of the Titans has no prima donna; except for opener Alice In Chains, the lineup rotates each performance. · Maybe it was singer Layne Staley's short hair, or omnipresent sunglasses. Maybe it was the wah-wah pedal. Or maybe it was just the lack of smoke machines. In any case, the headbangers that arrived early enough for Alice In Chains looked fairly blase. The actual choice of the band as an opener seemed bizarre, considering their heavier tourmates. Owing far more to late '80s thrash-funk than '70s dinosaur heavy metal, they didn't overwhelm the torn-shirt crowd. However, the few new-wavers present bobbed their heads appreciatively to songs like "Believe the Freak" and "We Die Young." Their last song, "Man In A Box," finally got the crowd moving around with its excellent harmonic vocal trade-offs. Alice In Chains tried to conquer the quintessential opening-band dilemna, a half-full house of somebody else's fans, and put together a quality set from their small pool of material. Unfortunately for the band, the crowd wanted to thrash hard. And when Anthrax hit the stage, they got their chance. · Smoke spewed from the red glowing stage, a huge faux-marble clock with skulls for numbers attracted all eyes, and then . . . the Blues Brothers theme? Anthrax's quirky humor didn't detract one bit from their driving, powerful performance; they injected the arena with fierce energy almost instantaneously upon hitting the stage. Their 50-minute set wasn't particularly tight, but Anthrax's forceful, infectious attitude surmounted any technical inadequacy. Singer Joey Belladonna pranced around and belted out tunes that spanned Anthrax's last three albums. Old favorites like "Caught In A Mosh" and "Indians" (complete with a headdressed Belladonna) were mixed with "Antisocial," "Got The Time," and an extended "Keep It In The Family," from their latest album. But guitarist/ vocalist/ head songwriter Scott Ian was the one to watch, with his hardcore-esque antics. Stomping and skipping all over the stage like an antsy child, Ian's split-kicks would make an acrobat jealous. Near the end of their set, the band all switched instruments and donned baseball hats and shorts for the rappish "I'm The Man." Belladonna played Charlie Benante's drums and Ian danced around in a combination Ian McKaye/ Bobby Brown impression. Beach balls bounced all over the place. During Anthrax's final song, "I Am The Law," the frenzied floor crowd surged forward as if a security force's nightmarish dam had burst. The blinding house lights went on, bright as interrogation lamps; the music stopped. But Anthrax coaxed the crowd into chillin' out and heaping the trampled folding chairs out of the way. "Let's show these motherfuckers we know how to keep our cool," said Belladonna, dissing the authority figures while restoring control. They finished the song with the house lights on. · Megadeth proved to be the antithesis of the Anthrax-induced chaos, providing a breather for security and audience alike. Heads banged, arms raised themselves in salute, but nobody really moshed much. Then again, 'deth's more traditional guitar-based brand of speed metal doesn't really lend itself to all-out flailing. Their stage was Gothic and ornate, their intercom introduction informed that "America is now under martial law," their hair was big. Megadeth's set drew evenly from their last three albums, concentrating on singles like "Wake Up Dead," "Holy Wars . . . The Punishment Due," and the now-apt war anthem "Peace Sells . . . But Who's Buying?" The set was fast and furious, but extremely precise; the solos didn't deviate a note from their studio counterparts. "Hangar 18" featured a sizzling guitar duel between Dave Mustaine and Marty Friedman, postured pelvis-to-pelvis. On "In My Darkest Hour," the closest thing to a Megadeth love song, Mustaine exchanged his good ol' six-string for a Jackson 6-12 Doubleneck, and held it tight. The band's attitude constrasted sharply with Anthrax's as well. The only departure from their self-absorbed demeanor was the closing tune, an outrageous cover of "Anarchy In The U. K." With their hair-flipping, shirt-shedding and extended posing, Megadeth smacked more of the '70s scene. As they left the stage, Mustaine repeatedly thanked the crowd, gaining ingratiating applause, while drummer Nick Menza tossed drumsticks like bones to dogs. Generally, less people were into Megadeth's set than Anthrax's, but those that dug it were more enthusiastic and focused. After the set, a few diehards shouted "Mega-fuckin'-deth!", but all in all, the masses were clearly waiting for Slayer. · People like Tipper Gore think that Slayer is Satanic and bad for kids. They're afraid of upside-down crosses and songs called "Altar Of Sacrifice" and men with long hair. What they should fear is the foul, abysmal world reflected in Slayer's lyrics: the world they themselves have created. "This song is dedicated to our Persian Gulf veterans," stated vocalist/ bassist Tom Araya solemnly, who then kicked into "Mandatory Suicide." What the Tippers should also fear is the charismatic hold that Slayer had over their audience. Less than a minute into "Hell Awaits," their opener, the entire floor was a writhing swarm of psychotic ants. Forty minutes and a dozen songs later, they were still mesmerized by Araya's anarchic roars, Dave Lombardo's animalistic pounding rhythms, Jeff Hanneman and Kerry King's vicious guitars. The tribal pit sweated their repressive anger in a collective ritual purge. All beach balls forgotten, seat covers became the projectile of choice for those in the stands. Whatever Slayer chose to play was received with deafening approval. Their selections spanned their entire career as well, from early speed anthems like "The Antichrist," to "Angel Of Death" and "Jesus Saves" from the groundbreaking Reign In Blood to recent tracks like "War Ensemble" and "Dead Skin Mask." The band also maintained the most ambitious technical pace of the Titans bands, playing at cataclysmic speeds and pausing less between songs. Against Anthrax's jocularity and Megadeth's effusiveness, Slayer seemed aloof. Araya did warn the crowd when they were two songs from the end of the show, extracting a 666th wind of energy from all present. And when he thanked the audience, he was sincere. It seems that the Clash of the Titans tour, as well as being a heavy metal dream-come-true, cares about their fans as people. But Tipper, is Satan Laughing As You Eternally Rot? Family metalhead Dennis Beebe contributed to this article.