Yesterday was my birthday. Sarah probably would have gone with me to a Phish concert if I asked her to. So when I suggested we see Royal Thunder at St Vitus, I’m not sure why I told her it was going to be “not as loud” as the Battlecross show, for example.
And, to that end, I was expecting to get up today and write this post and slap a big, fat 2 on it. Royal Thunder blew out the speakers in my dad’s Volvo when I was tearing over the Shawangunks one time, but their recorded material led me to expect, well, a 2. Nothing wrong with that.
Openers were Wild Throne and Golden Grass. Besides their very competent proto-metal homage thing, what I like most about Golden Grass is that their drummer is the real life Garth Algar. Disclaimer: actual Golden Grass drummer is better at drums than Dana Carvey, and Tia Carrere clearly knows more about guitars than whoever drew that picture of the show up there. 21 and over? Shaa, as if.
There are a lot of words to describe Wild Throne, but I think the most important one is “commitment.” If these guys ever decide to stop being bad-ass rockers, they could totally make bank on really hard exercise videos. However, Wild Throne, please keep being bad-ass rockers, and thank you for singing happy birthday to me. That was the idea with that whole ” The Wrecking Ball Unchained” song, right?
As regards Royal Thunder, I’m happy to report that Sarah has recovered 75% of her hearing at this time. I wish there was a word in English that meant the same thing as “brought it” but which also implies “it” is something so majestic that it obliterates the artificial prejudices which divide our humanity from our ferocity and reminds us that we are all animals and reminds us how glorious that is. If that sounds crazy, good. This was the kind of performance which revealed what music really means, and this was music about agony which will not be medicated and bonds of connection which can not be controlled. Royal Thunder reminded me how it feels to be there when a legend is being written.