It’s not every day I get to write about a band from what’s essentially my own back yard. Space-riffing foursome Eternal Fuzz make their home in New Brunswick, New Jersey, which is about half an hour south on the Parkway from where I currently sit. It’s a college town, hosting the main campus of Rutgers University, and from what I can tell from the (somehow appropriately) fuzzy video above, the double-guitar outfit is pretty young.

Far more revealing about Eternal Fuzz though is their summer 2011 demo, which is currently available for streaming on their Bandcamp page. With warm low end and ghostly echoing vocals, shades of Om meet with a kind of miniaturized riffy splendor and Torche-esque brevity on “Vexed by the Curse of the Sloth,” which sounds short at just three minutes.

I’d be surprised if the demo wasn’t recorded live, since it comes off so much that way, but rough production becomes part of the band’s character by the end of the five songs, and with the striking build of “Moody Hum” acting as a centerpiece, Eternal Fuzz show a surprising amount of clarity for an act who should still just be getting their bearings sound-wise.

For that, I’m happy to include them in the same school of formative NJ acts like sludge villains Dutchguts and bass/drum duo The Badeda Ladies, who both also have growing to do but are making a strong start. Here’s Eternal Fuzz‘s demo if you want to check it out:

The album begins with the formidable swagger of “Breed,” and that sets a tone of classic rock appreciation that the rest of the songs bear out, both riff-wise and in Sunshine’s vocals, which are stellar in their performance but too forward in the mix. His voice has that ability that Chris Cornell had at his peak to just contort seemingly at will and jump in register to what feel like places it shouldn’t be able to jump. He throws some John Garcia-type grit into the approach as well and manages to shift to suit the music, as on the swaying “Firebrand.” As Pantella keeps steady waltz time on the drums and Sweeny noodles a subdued verse, Sunshine takes charge of the melody and caries the track into its chorus, which is among the most effective on Invisible Empire. True, some of the melodies can seem repetitive – more than once through the Alice in Chains-esque backups on “Fool” and they begin to feel overused – but Sunshine could carry this band if he needed to. Fact is, however, that he doesn’t need to. As the ballsier riffing of “Fool” and “Crossfade” work in ‘90s-style distortion behind their verses, the music more than stands up to the vocals, however more prominent the latter might be mix-wise. With “Slow Death,” as with “Breed,” Riotgod modernize a classic approach in a way not so dissimilar from what European tour and labelmates The Quill did on their 2011 offering, Full Circle.

Whatever dynamic they’re working within, though, Riotgod seem to have shifted their focus to more suit that specifically Euro brand of heavy rock methodology. They did most of their touring in support of the self-titled in Europe, and have already been back in support of Invisible Empire, which was also released months earlier overseas than domestically in North America (Nov. 2, 2011, as opposed to Jan. 31, 2012), so it’s not necessarily surprising some capitulation to that market or influence from the European scene – admirable as it is to those of us on the outside of it – would show up in the music. As the Zeppelin-style acoustics of “Gas Station Roses” give way to “Tomorrow’s Today” to start the second half of Invisible Empire, I’d be just as willing to believe Riotgod were from Norway as from Jersey, although that same song at five and a half minutes feels longer than it needs to be, particularly as compared to the Kyuss-esque momentum of “Saving it Up,” which follows. “Saving it Up” (3:45) is the shortest inclusion on the record but for the classically prog-folk closer “Rebirth,” and leaves no room for any dip in the immediacy. It’s probably also the one cut on Invisible Empire that I actively wish sounded dirtier. Where the rest of what Riotgod is doing stylistically seems accessible and commercially viable enough to suit the somewhat staid and professionally clean production it’s given, “Saving it Up” sounds like it wants to be rawer and more live-feeling than it is.

That doesn’t hold true for “Loosely Bound,” however, the semi-balladry of which mirrors that of “Firebrand” earlier and sets up the richest chorus on the album to come with “Lost.” Where other tracks have their ebbs and flows between the verses and choruses, and “Loosely Bound” and “Slow Death” touch on linear builds, “Lost” most effectively utilizes the structure in a way that feels like it belongs at the end of the record. Were it not for the skill with which Sweeny’s guitar and Sunshine’s vocals are layered on “Hollow Mirror,” I’d say “Lost” should have been the closer, but the vibe on “Hollow Mirror” is more suited to a finale, which leaves the actual closer – the aforementioned “Rebirth” – as a sub-psychedelic epilogue, led into by a little under three minutes of backwards noise that fades in and out again after the conclusion of “Hollow Mirror.” It seems like an easy pull from a song where the drums are absent and Baglino’s bass is relegated mostly to single notes, but what really stands out in listening to Invisible Empire is how much of Riotgod’s personality comes through in the performances of Sweeny and Sunshine. Obviously, the bulk of the band’s profile comes from Baglino and Pantella being tenured in Monster Magnet (Sweeny also filled in on guitar in the absence of Ed Mundell), and while those two both play very well – and I mean that with none of the pat-on-the-head condescension with which it might read – the melody brought forward in the vocals and guitar is essential to making the album work as well as it does in the places where it does. Their process still needs some refining, but the maturity they’ve shown in just a year’s time (though at least some of the material on the self-titled was older than the album’s release, and I’d expect some of these songs date further back than others as well) speaks well for Riotgod’s case as an entity unto itself. As a matter of personal preference, I’d be interested in hearing the material presented with more of a natural feel, but there’s no arguing with quality songwriting, and Riotgod prove here they’re able to maintain consistency in a variety of moods and tones.

Riotgod’s website

Metalville Records

It’s a wonder I’m not divorced.

The early part of that same evening found The Patient Mrs. and I (she was driving; I’d already had a few and I’d have a few more before the night was out) racing northbound on the Parkway to get to the Wellmont Theatre in scenic Montclair, NJ, in time to catch The Atomic Bitchwax open the show for Black Cobra, The Sword and Kyuss Lives!, who were on the last night of their tour and under whose banner the whole show took place. The Bitchwax being Jersey locals, the appeal was plain, and with the added interest of Dave Witte (Human Remains, Burnt by the Sun, Exit-13, Birds of Prey, Municipal Waste, etc.) filling in on drums, I didn’t want to miss it. You know that hurried feeling when you get all anxious that you’re not going to make it in time? It was like at, and as per usual, completely without reason. We arrived well in time for the start of their set.

Last time I saw The Atomic Bitchwax was at the Saint in Asbury Park with Karma to Burn, and it was high on the list of the best shows I’ve ever seen them play. With Witte‘s taking Bob Pantella‘s spot on drums while the latter is on a European run with Monster Magnet, intrigue was high. Sure enough, Witte more than held his own, but as you’d expect, the chemistry that’s developed between Pantella and bassist/vocalist Chris Kosnik and guitarist/vocalist Finn Ryan just wasn’t there. Still, they did Jersey proud, and I spent the whole time trying to figure out how Kosnik would know Witte (Human Remains was a Jersey band; that’s the best I could come up with), taking minor mental detours to enjoy “Destroyer,” “Gettin’ Old,” “So Come On,” “Shitkicker,” “Hope You Die,” the Core cover, “Kiss the Sun” and the curious instrumental choice of closer, “Force Field.”

Witte is a master drummer. The reason he’s involved in so many projects is he’s so adaptable, and in The Atomic Bitchwax, he nestled in well alongside the fast-winding riffs of Kosnik and Ryan, though there was part of him that looked ready to bust out a grindcore blastbeat at any moment, and his snare seemed to pop with that kind of expectation. By contrast, Rafa Martinez of Black Cobra did unleash a few blasts, most notably during “Obliteration” from the band’s most recent Invernal album, but hit with a different technique altogether. This was the first I’d seen Black Cobra since Invernal came out, and I was glad to find them focusing on the new material, since I think it’s their best yet.

That Martinez and guitarist/vocalist Jason Landrian were unbelievably tight should almost go without saying at this point, since that’s pretty much been the case with the duo since their inception as a touring act seven or eight years ago at this point. They opened with “Avalanche” from the new album, though, and it occurred to me how much they’ve grown in terms of stagecraft. Landrian, quiet and subdued off stage, is more confident than ever while on, and more apt to engage the audience as a frontman. He held his guitar over his head, headbanged, yelled off-mic at the crowd and generally worked to bring people into the show. It wasn’t yet crowded at the Wellmont, but the people who showed up early knew why they were there, and I think Landrian‘s efforts were appreciated.

“Avalanche” and “Obliteration” were highlights, but the irresistible riffing of “Corrosion Fields” made their set, and it would do so again the next night in Brooklyn. That kind of chugging groove is unmistakably righteous, and I didn’t in the least envy Austin, Texas, riffers The Sword for having to follow it. Still, they did, and as The Sword are more or less the commercial vanguard at this point for heavy rock, I felt in watching them like they were unavoidable. Bound to happen. I didn’t hear their last record, 2010′s Warp Riders, and I don’t remember the one before that, but I immediately recognized “Freya” from Age of Winters for its epic riffing and battle tales, and that was fine.

Look. At this point, The Sword aren’t going anywhere. They have a more than solid fanbase, have worked hard enough on the road to give their now-former drummer a nervous breakdown, and as guitarist/vocalist J.D. Cronise was out front watching The Atomic Bitchwax during their set, I’m inclined to think their hearts are in the right place, whatever the hype or promotional push around them might be. Hipster metal isn’t all The Sword‘s fault, and that’s coming from someone who doesn’t even like the band. They did their thing and the crowd responded well to it, and if I wasn’t into it, then at least I got a few minutes once I was done taking pictures to grab another beer and sit down before Kyuss came on, which I appreciated thoroughly.

And you’ll notice in that last sentence I dropped the “Lives!” from Kyuss Lives!, which seems only fair at this point. The looming prospect of a new album next year, plus the time the foursome of vocalist John Garcia, bassist Nick Oliveri, guitarist Bruno Fevery and drummer Brant Bjork have put in on the road playing those old tunes, they’ve earned it. It’s Kyuss. You know it, I know it. This was my second time seeing them, and yeah, Josh Homme wasn’t in the building, but seriously, bands have toured with fewer founding members, and I defy you to watch Brant Bjork during “Supa Scoopa and Mighty Scoop” and call it anything other than Kyuss.

It was pretty clear they were tired from being on the road, the show wasn’t exactly sold out even at its most crowded point, and the cavernous high ceiling of the Wellmont that so well suited Black Cobra didn’t do them any favors sound-wise, but how could I possibly think of a Kyuss set as anything other than a positive? What else would I have been doing that night that would’ve been better than drunkenly belting out the parts to “El Rodeo” along with Oliveri and Garcia, or watching the jam that developed out of “50 Million Year Trip (downside up)?” Nothing. Watching the current incarnation of Kyuss tear through their set with the level of poise and professionalism they did was a blast. Garcia didn’t talk much, but sounded killer singing, and Fevery seemed even more comfortable on the songs than he had in Philly, making “Hurricane,” “Freedom Run” and “One Inch Man” high points of a night mostly comprised of high points.

Whatever becomes of the Kyuss Lives! lineup, with Oliveri facing jail-time following a SWAT standoff earlier this year and Scott Reeder waiting in the wings to take up the bassist position as he did prior to the release of 1994′s genre-defining Welcome to Sky Valley, they’ve done well by themselves and most importantly, by the material on these American and European tours. After absolutely nailing “Demon Cleaner,” they came out to do a quickie encore that included “Green Machine” and (I think; someone please correct me if I’m wrong) “Odyssey,” and then were done. I’d expected “Thumb,” but the Wellmont house lights came back up and the audience was quickly escorted out the door and into the cold.

Jersey doesn’t get shit for heavy rock shows. Generally speaking, if it’s coming anywhere these days, it’s coming to Brooklyn or maybe Manhattan if it’s a big enough deal to get into one of the corporate venues, but something like seeing Kyuss on my home turf in North Jersey, I felt like it was a really special opportunity and one I think I made the most of. It was night two of three shows in a row for me, but definitely will standout as more than just the middle in a series. I got everything I could’ve asked for except cheaper beer, and as I woke up the next day sans hangover, I felt like even the $7 Shiner Bock was a favor directed in my way (well, maybe not). I didn’t win the Powerball, but I’d hardly call it a loss for that.

Extra pics after the jump.

The Atomic Bitchwax

Black Cobra

The Sword

Kyuss Lives!

The show is Saturday night, Dec. 10, and the only snag for the giveaway is that it ends tomorrow afternoon, Wednesday, Dec. 6. If you want to go, just fill out the info below and hit send:

[Please note: This contest is now closed. Thanks to all who entered. Winners will be notified by email.]

Sorry for the lack of posts today. Last night I got a text informing me of the death of my friend and the most faithful of the NYC faithful, Rock and Roll Gina Brooks. Gina was someone who I met when I was still in college, doing a stoner rock show on college radio. She came to my gigs, she called me while I was on the air. When I started at the Aquarian the first time, she read that. She commented to me about my Metal Maniacs articles, and my reviews here. We hung out at shows. She was one of the most loyal and supportive people I’ve ever met. I gave her absolutely no reason to, and yet she always had faith in me.

This morning was the service, and not wanting to make a show of my grief, I’ll just say that I wasn’t in the headspace for writing and anything I did manage to type up wouldn’t have been focused or fair to whatever I was writing about. Over the weekend, I’ll get my head together and get that Elder interview finally posted, and the November numbers, and maybe one or two news stories that have come in since last night. I don’t even really know, to be honest with you.

And next week we’ll pick back up with reviews. I’ll be at Hull/Eyehategod on Sunday in Brooklyn. I should hopefully have words and pics from that come Monday, and I’ve got a new CD from Aussie heavy psych mavens Looking Glass that’s just begging for a writeup, so that’ll be fit in one way or another. There’s other stuff too, and if I can, I’ll have my interview with Ken-E Bones of Negative Reaction posted. That dude’s always got something to say, so you know it’ll be interesting.

Audio to come as well from a cool sound installation called Sun Boxes, and there always seems to be much more than I can handle going on, but I’ll do my best with it, as always. The semester is winding down now and things are relatively quiet at work, so I hope to be able to have more of a grip on everything. Just not today.

Wherever you are, a great and safe weekend, please. See you on the forum and back here over the next couple days. Until then, the Monster Magnet is for Gina.

The band returned to Andrew Schneider (Throttlerod, The Brought Low, partner in Coextinction Recordings) to record the full-length, and with what he was able to bring out of them on the demo, it’s no surprise. It’s easy to view Last Rays of the Dying Sun as an extension of their previous outing, both sonically and in terms of content. All four songs from Infernal Overdrive show up on side A of Last Rays of the Dying Sun, and in three-fourths the same order as they appeared before, opening with “I-95” and moving into “The Edge” and “Duel.” The longer “Motor,” which was 12 minutes on the demo and approaching 14 here, keeps its position as the closer, so in a way, that’s the same as well, but there are four other tracks between “Duel” and it that comprise the previously-unheard portion of the record. Both the newer and older material though sound crisp and fluid (Chris Goosman mastered), the shorter “I-95” and “The Edge” setting the tone quickly with unpretentious shuffle and Miele’s smooth leads, and stating in certain terms the rock ethic to be expanded on as the album progresses with songs like “Cage” and “Electric Street Cred.” “I-95” is no less engaging as an opener than it was on the demo, and Mike Bennett’s drumming (probably the most direct beneficiary of Schneider’s production; the guy just knows how to mic drums) and Keith Schleicher’s bass allow the guitars a solid foundation on which to speed up the motoring riff of “The Edge,” setting up the hooky chorus with a well-honed casual air, like it’s just the way it goes, man.

That sense of casualness – it’s not exactly laid back, but has a pack of cigarettes rolled up its sleeve and at least one hole in its jeans – adds a lot of the charm to what Infernal Overdrive are doing musically, which is neither lazy nor unstudied. Wails and one of Last Rays of the Dying Sun’s several big rock finishes cap “The Edge,” as if to highlight the idea that no one is taking themselves to seriously, and “Duel” commences with what can only be the basis for the song’s title in the interplay between Schleicher and Miele’s guitars. Bennett’s drums stomp and the bass walks in lock step with the guitar for the verses, but ultimately steps back to give the soloing room to breathe, and handclaps, tambourine and some guest vocals from Schneider in the final chorus give a party atmosphere to the ensuing and somewhat predictable conclusion, and following a quiet intro, “Cage” keeps the momentum going with thicker-sounding guitar, more claps and plenty of “mm-hmm” and “alright” peppering from Schleicher. The vibe of “Cage” is more modern, but the chorus asking the question “Can I be your little animal?” is all classic rock and a pretty good example on the grander scale of the way Infernal Overdrive mix the modern with the big-engine ‘70s. It’s something of a comedown after “Duel,” but “Cage” picks up at the end with some righteous solo work and Keith’s most impressive bassline underneath. Three big rock finishes in a row might seem ballsy, but it’s nothing in comparison to the fade-out/fade-back of highlight cut “Deported to Jersey,” which ends side A with a preview of what “Motor” will later do for the album as a whole, working deft riffing, skillfully arranged vocals and unashamed catchiness into the first four minutes before the fadeout starts. They go all the way to silence and rest there for a couple seconds before coming back to wrap in what can increasingly be thought of as the standard fashion for Last Rays of the Dying Sun.

“Deported to Jersey” takes a step back from the complex vocal arrangements and finds Marc layering a chorus on his own (there are some well-placed backwards loops in there too). They probably could just as easily had Keith or Miele offer support in backing vocals, but the change does well to shift the expectation for Infernal Overdrive, and anyway, with the intricate riffing and precision placement of the notes, both guitars and the bass should be plenty busy. Ditto that for Bennett, who takes a drum solo at 3:14 that and works quickly to impress with it, maintaining the beat and groove of the song while also embarking on a tom and cymbal freakout worthy of the space compression it gets. A seamless transition beings the verse and chorus back to close out and Infernal Overdrive revert back to a shorter-song approach with the Ace Frehley cover “Rip it Out,” which appeared as the opener of the Kiss guitarist’s 1978 solo album. It’s a good fit for Last Rays of the Dying Sun, with its “woman done wrong” lyrical sensibility and pop appeal, and Marc roughs up his vocals a bit during the verse to match Frehley’s approach without sounding like he’s trying to do an impression, setting up “Motor” to finish the record with its more expansive (musically and temporally) feel. There are some psychedelic elements in the guitar in the beginning, but Infernal Overdrive keep their straightforward methods in line, however much echo might be added to the lead guitar, and when Marc and Rich meet up for some NWOBHM-style runs, it’s not so much a surprise as a rush of energy.

That stretch of harmonic chicanery paves the way for the verse to return and gradually unfold into an extended jam that accounts for most of “Motor”’s extra runtime as compares to the other songs on Last Rays of the Dying Sun. Solos are taken as the rhythm is maintained, and gradually, extra percussion is brought in to add to the suddenly subdued feel of the song. It’s not an easy task for Infernal Overdrive to cut the energy level with about five of the record’s total 46 minutes left – one almost can’t let go of the momentum brought on by the material preceding – but the jam brings the album down gradually, sleepily, before building it up again. It’s a wonder Bennett’s cymbals lived to tell the tale, and as they fade to windy noise after 11 minutes, they do so perhaps having cut the payoff a little short, leaving room for the sampled speech a minute and a half later to lead the way for (what else?) a big rock ending. Not as big as they do it live, but grand nonetheless. And when they’re done this time, they’re really done. Perhaps the relative lack of ceremony – thinking of the end of “Duel” or “The Edge” – is meant to suggest that the party’s over, that the ceremony has already happened and that there’s nothing more to do but pack up and go home. Fair enough if that’s the case; Infernal Overdrive have already wrought enough raucous rock destruction to account for a two-day hangover, but sue me for wanting more anyway. If nothing else, that should probably speak to the level of asskickery Last Rays of the Dying Sun attains. As a debut, it will no doubt impress among the converted, and as Small Stone’s first release of 2012, it shows the label continuing its leadership role among American heavy rock imprints. Now if only we can get another Halfway to Gone record, I’ll stop bitching about there being no rock in New Jersey.

Infernal Overdrive on Thee Facebooks

Small Stone Records

The show — a stop on Judas Priest‘s “Epitaph” alleged retirement tour — boasted openers Thin Lizzy and Black Label Society, but I arrived in time to catch only the final song and a half of the latter. I wasn’t heartbroken, and watching the beard-braided Zakk Wylde tebow and thump his chest like a circus gorilla following the end of “Stillborn,” was even less so. That guy’s come a long way to be a cartoon character, but the place ate it up, and I saw more than a few BLS vests in the crowd, so far be it from me to judge. Even though I just did.

There was a decent amount of changeover time between Black Label and Priest, which, like being surrounded by tens of thousands of people at a show, was something I genuinely wasn’t used to. Thoroughly out of my element and just one day removed from watching Premonition 13 rock the Saint Vitus bar in Brooklyn, I watched as a giant “Epitaph” flag was lowered in front of the stage, which was but the first in an unfolding series of grandiosities. I guess if you’re Judas Priest 40 years into your career and on what you’ve said will be your farewell tour, you go big. So be it.

I was lucky enough to scam a photo pass, and prior to the show starting, a collection of professional photographers and I (very much not a professional photographer) were collected and brought into the photo pit. They were playing metal classics over the P.A., Metallica, AC/DC, and the last song they played before Priest took the stage was Sabbath‘s “War Pigs.” I noticed one of the crew who was in position to catch the giant “Epitaph” flag was singing along and we exchanged a quick chatter about the brilliance of playing Black Sabbath before the start of metal gigs. I said it was like the national anthem before a baseball game.

Priest‘s set was an impressive two hours and 20 minutes. There were breaks in there, and vocalist Rob Halford seemed to make the most out of his various costume changes throughout, but they did an excellent job of keeping the momentum going. We were allowed to shoot for three songs, and I did, catching “Rapid Fire,” “Metal Gods” and “Heading Out to the Highway” up close before being unceremoniously booted back to my floor seat, which was — of course — occupied by the time I got there, leaving me to stand awkwardly at the end of the row and get bumped into for the rest of the set. I could’ve raised a stink, but screw it.

New guitarist Richie Faulkner, who seems as much a replacement for K.K. Downing physically as for guitar playing, was at stage right and seemed to be in charge of entertaining that entire side of the venue, which he did by playing extensively to the crowd — facial and hand gestures, waving, smiling, making faces, posing out, etc. — and of the rest of the band, he and bassist Ian Hill were probably the most into the show, the latter looking well satisfied during both newer songs like “Judas Rising” and “Starbreaker” from 1977′s Sin After Sin album.

Glenn Tipton and Rob Halford were more professionally detached, which is fair, but they still played well and everything was impeccably presented. Where I stood meant I got a lot of Scott Travis‘ kick drum; could feel it in my chest for the duration, and there were times where it was grating, but for the most part, the balance was as dead on as one might expect. Some of my favorite moments of the show, though, were in Halford‘s stage banter between the songs. While Tipton, Hill and Faulkner were changing out their instruments, Halford gave little snippets of perspective on the band’s landmark tenure in metal, including gems like, “In 1971 in Birmingham, there were only two heavy metal bands: Black Sabbath and Judas Priest” (bit of revisionist history there since Priest weren’t really playing metal until the middle of the decade), and an expression of how the growth of metal has led to the splintering into subgenres — he named black, death and nü metals, among others — and that each generation that’s come up has revised what it means to be metal, and that he approved.

He said of Judas Priest, “We are a classic metal band.” This is indisputably true. As much as anyone ever could be, they are. Their influence over what the genre became, particularly in the ’80s is measured in the number of pretenders to their throne who fell by the wayside while they — in one form or another — persisted. I think though it’s high time doom owned classic metal. In terms of groups to whom the work of Judas Priest and is still relevant, I hear much more of it in traditional doom than I do even in power metal, which seems more bent these days on progressive influences and technical showiness.

So “classic metal,” such as it is — Sabbath, Priest, the whole NWOBHM and the acts from around the world who followed — belongs to doom now. No one else is using it anyway, and while I have no idea what entitles me to make such ridiculous proclamations, I’m pretty sure I’m the only one doing it, so screw off. Let the doomers be the keepers of the old. We are anyway.

Though it’s sacrilege to say, “Turbo Lover” was a high point of the set, despite it being one of several choruses Rob Halford elected not to sing or to sing in part, letting the crowd pick up the slack — of course, they were more than happy to do so. Perhaps most egregious in that regard was “Breaking the Law,” which he didn’t sing at all into the microphone, instead just walking around the stage and putting his ear to different sections of the Izod Center, letting the noise come to him. I probably wouldn’t want to be singing that song anymore either, but man, I can sing along to Judas Priest any time I want. I didn’t pay $25 to park my car to do that with however many other people were there. I paid to watch them perform those songs. Minor gripe, but still.

That was toward the end of the set, following “The Green Manalishi (with the Two-Pronged Crown),” “Blood Red Skies” and “Beyond the Realms of Death,” which was one of several standout ballads included. The Joan Baez cover “Diamonds and Rust” was beefed up at the end, and was the finishing piece of a trio that included “Victim of Changes” and “Never Satisfied,” the latter from 1974′s Rocka Rolla. They closed out the regular set though with “Breaking the Law” into “Painkiller,” which set the stage for two encores and seemed to be the end of Halford‘s voice for the night.

And to be fair, if he blew it out there, it’s understandable. “Painkiller” is a tour de force for a metal vocalist, and Halford sounded excellent throughout, but right at the end, in that series of wails, there was one that made me cringe, and sure enough, his voice wasn’t the same afterwards. I don’t know and won’t speculate on whether he was using any kind of backing track or modulation other than the natural compression that comes from a wireless mic, but he sounded right on in his higher screams, and even the mid-range verses had presence and force in the delivery.

Everything was crisp, clean. The lighting was perfect, the fire, the periodic blasts of lasers, the sequined robe Halford donned with a Priest-logo trident for “Prophecy” from the Nostradamus record. It was all tight, flawlessly executed and built for maximum metallacy. Even as the band members were introduced it was, “Glenn Tipton on the heavy metal guitar,” “Richie Faulkner on the heavy metal guitar,” “You’ve been a great heavy metal audience,” and so on. And all around me, husbands and wives, fathers and daughters, fathers and sons, dudes and dudettes, rocking out till the dawn. Or until a little past 11PM, anyway. It was heavy metal utopia.

Two encores, like I said. The first was “Electric Eye” into “Hell Bent for Leather” and “You’ve Got Another Thing Comin’.” They brought out the motorcycle for “Hell Bent for Leather” — as if there was any doubt — and Halford draped himself in a sewn together American/British flag before “You’ve Got Another Thing Comin’,” walking around the stage doing a sequence of “Whoa, whoa, whoa, yeah” and “Yeah-yeh-yeah, yeah, yeah” vocalizations that the audience matched note for note. I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure they were just vocal warmup exercises (one could see also throughout the set that he was metering his breaths before and after the highs), and if that’s the case, the people answering him back were already plenty warmed up. Still fun.

Faulkner took a surprising solo during “You’ve Got Another Thing Comin’,” and when the band left the stage again, Travis got on a mic and told everyone that if they made enough noise, the guys would come back out and do one more song. Chaos ensued. Heads rolled. Limbs flew like it was Mos Eisley. Glasses shattered, dogs within a 10 mile radius of the Izod Center howled, and finally, Tipton, Halford, Hill and Faulkner retook the stage for the finale of “Living After Midnight.” Another epic sing-along, some extended soloing, and a massive heavy metal finish later, and they were done. I was home by midnight.

I’ve seen Priest before, and if Scorpions‘ farewell tour is anything to go by (three years and running?), I’ll have an opportunity to see them again, but it’s hard not to read something special into catching Judas Priest with even the possibility of it being the last time. Make no mistake, there were parts that were so flat-out silly that I laughed out loud — some of Halford‘s costume changes, the giant Priest trident logos with the motorcycle lights in them, etc. — but if there’s one thing I’ve learned to recognize in this world it’s that just because something is silly that doesn’t mean it’s devoid of meaning or that it can’t also be important to you or, say, 10,000-plus people around you.

Music is as close as I come to religion, and there was a point at which I did a side-to-side sweep of the venue and said to myself, “This is the life I’ve chosen.” I’m not going to say “no regrets,” because I have plenty, but it could’ve been way worse.

Extra pics after the jump. Click any to enlarge.

Judas Priest

Those shifts serve them well on Invisible Empire. Garrett Sweeny‘s riffs feel more prominent, and the band’s time on the road in Europe did them well in terms of nailing down their aesthetic. Vocalist Mark Sunshine is restrained but not repressed, maintaining the classic rock frontman sensibility he brought to the first record while also refining his approach to the rhythms of drummer Bob Pantella and bassist Jim Baglino — both also of Monster Magnet.

And if that band’s stamp shows up anywhere on Invisible Empire, it’s in the straightforward quality of the songwriting Riotgod is able to make sound easy and natural. There isn’t much psychedelia to what they do — some — but instead, the album drives home the notion of the classic working rock band. One hopes they tour again for it, as that clearly seems to be the root of their growth.

I’m lucky enough today to be able to host the track “Fool” for your streaming pleasure, which you’ll find on the player below. Hope you enjoy:

As previously reported, Riotgod‘s Invisible Empire will be released on Metalville on Jan. 31 — it’s already out in Europe. If you like “Fool,” hit the band up on Thee Facebooks or their ReverbNation page, where they have the rest of the album streaming.

The band, on the other hand, rock universal. Definitely have this record on my list of anticipated 2012 releases, but here’s a glimpse at the cover in the meantime:

Abridged from the PR wire:

Riotgod began in spirit through the conversations of Monster Magnet‘s Bob Pantella and Jim Baglino while out on tour as early as 2006. While touring with Monster Magnet provided them with some great times and afforded them the opportunity to perform around the world, each communicated a desire to express their own musical ideas.  

Riotgod did its first mini-tour in 2009, hitting the road with fellow NJ rockers The Friends of Bill Wilson. Riotgod would visit the US Midwest and Canada, playing venues such as Chicago‘s Double Door, Detroit‘s Blondies, Toronto‘s Bovine Sex Club as well as some lesser known colorful establishments along the way.

Invisible Empire Track Listing:
1. Breed
2. Fool
3. Crossfade
4. Slow Death
5. Firebrand
6. Gas Station Roses
7. Tomorrow’s Today
8. Saving it Up
9. Loosily Bound
10. Lost
11. Hollow Mirror
12. Rebirth