I was curious to see how the Boston Marathon bombing and subsequent events would filter into the Metalfest.
by Scott McLennan
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| Opeth's Mikael Arkerfeldt (Photo by Sam McLennan) | 
The 15th annual New England Metal and Hardcore Festival
 ended not long after midnight Monday as the band Suicidal Tendencies, 
the last of more than 80 groups to storm the Palladium in Worcester 
since the previous Friday afternoon, took its bows.
 
 
Let’s just look at those numbers again. Fifteen years: that’s a good 
run for any arts event, more so for a showcase for music that 
purposefully stays on the fringe. Eighty-plus bands: this is pure bulk 
packaging, good for sampling many types of extreme heavy rock, though 
tough to possibly digest it all. Three days: these were full days, 
upwards of 12 hours of music for the taking off of two stages each time 
the doors opened.  Add it all up and you get the dark, brooding 
offspring of the Newport jazz and folk festivals.
The Newport analogy came to mind years ago as Metalfest hit its 
stride in the early ’00s. By dint of covering music for the daily 
newspaper in Worcester, I was seeing a lot of heavy metal and hardcore, 
styles of music that for years got brushed off by Boston venues and were
 welcomed to the Heart of the Commonwealth. The music fan in me was 
drawn to the persistent pushing of boundaries in this music underground.
 These were young musicians who absorbed the sounds and messages of 
previous generations’ Black Sabbath and Black Flag then figured out how 
to make that defiance bolder and brasher. Every now and then you’d hear 
something slicing through the raw volume as distinctly different. That 
sense of discovery is music-fan manna no matter how it is packaged. 
The Newport fests celebrate the roots of jazz and folk while exposing
 important new work to audiences that are supportive and curious. 
Likewise, the New England Metal and Hardcore Festival bundles old and 
new bands relegated to making records for independent imprints and 
playing clubs and small theaters. The festival linked the metal and 
hardcore cultures – akin to bringing bop and fusion together, or the 
audacity of Dylan going electric – and put together bills that were 
unique to the event itself.
And like Newport has George Wein, Worcester has Scott Lee, a diehard 
fan first, smart promoter second. Rarely do you hear bands openly thank 
promoters, but Lee (like Wein) is praised from the stage throughout the 
festival. This year a bunch of musicians and staffers even presented him
 with a trophy and the band Sick of it All went so far as to make a T 
shirt with Lee’s face emblazoned on the front especially for its 
Metalfest appearance.
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| Trapped Under Ice's set Sunday (Photo by Sam McLennan) | 
 That admiration trickles down, as musicians stick around watching 
other bands play, often standing in the crowd alongside the paying 
customers. All this helps dissolve the traditional distance between 
artist and audience, yet another hallmark of those pioneering folk and 
jazz festivals.
 
 
The similarities between Newport and Worcester end once you dig into 
the substance of Metalfest (though this year I saw what I believe was 
the first use of an acoustic guitar at the fest). Metal and hardcore are
 aggressive and confrontational. The songs generally reject normalcy, 
question authority, and invite darkness. It’s music for misfits, or more
 accurately people who self-identify as misfits. Metalfest brings 
together all sorts of outliers. Kids who dig the grit and loyalty of 
hardcore share space with the fans of escapist metal. The 
drug-and-alcohol-free straightedge crowd meshes with those lustily 
supporting festival sponsor Narragansett beer. 
The first sense of Metalfest being a community hit Friday. I was 
curious to see how the Boston Marathon bombing and subsequent events 
would filter into the fest. It began with my Facebook newsfeed 
displaying “Going to Worcester to blow off steam”-type messages. And 
blowing off steam meant anything from simply facing a high-decibel 
barrage to hopping into a mosh pit where combat is turned into dance.
The performers made passing glances at the headlines, and I wasn’t 
surprised. A lot of metal is built on the premise that the world is an 
ugly place and bad things happen. The band Exodus, which got its start 
in 1982 in San Francisco, prefaced its song “War is My Shepherd” with 
the sentiment that the people responsible for the bombing should be shot
 in the head, seemingly unaware that one of the suspects was already 
dead. That sort of bluster is something to weigh in the cost of pursuing
 cathartic guitar work of the sort Exodus’ Gary Holt and Lee Altus 
execute. 
Later in the night when news broke that the police had indeed 
captured the remaining suspect, the band Anthrax, another veteran from 
the 1980s, dedicated “I am the Law” to the Boston PD, and the crowd 
broke out “U-S-A” chants. That was actually more surprising than the 
call for blood, given metal’s historic disdain for authority.
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| Dillinger Escape Plan's Ben Weinman (Photo by Sam McLennan) | 
 Here’s a good time to distinguish between metal and hardcore. Metal 
has its roots in heavy rock such as Led Zeppelin and Deep Purple, bands 
that made gods out of guitar players. The metal underground held onto 
the primacy of guitar, but crumpled up hard rock’s sense of melody and 
tossed it behind the importance of the rhythmic riff. Singers switched 
over to barking, and song tempos accelerated. A wave of younger bands 
hitting the festival in recent years is adding a progressive twist to 
the aggression with intricate arrangements and dynamic shifts while 
still maintaining a prickly edge to the sound.
 
 
Hardcore is an outgrowth of punk rock. The songs are usually more 
compact compared to metal tunes, and the emotion of the delivery 
typically outweighs the precision of the execution. It’s amazing that 
hardcore bands can play at all as fans storm the stage and musicians hop
 into the crowd to achieve desired chaotic results.
But some bands have managed to successfully experiment with 
hardcore’s rawness, opening up the style’s sound without losing its 
tight connection to the listener. That was most evident in the set 
performed Saturday by Dillinger Escape Plan, a band that fuses the 
frantic to the cathartic. Singer Greg Puciato and guitarist Ben Weinman 
hurled themselves into the crowd, never missing a beat, well until 
Puciato crashed into the drums, tossed a cymbal to the ground, and sat 
in the lap of drummer Bill Rymer.
Dillinger Escape Plan fit the hardcore mold while stretching it to 
the breaking point.  And in the context of the festival, the band’s 
performance set up the weekend’s most dramatic contrast as Opeth 
followed Dillinger Escape Plan.
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| Dillinger Escape Plan's Greg Puciato (Photo by Same McLennan) | 
Opeth is a Swedish band that has swung its metal back toward melody, 
peppering in the more aggressive accents of the underground. Its newest 
work is far less punishing and given to long arrangements that make room
 for as much psychedelic noodling as for brutal riffs. The metal crowd 
has embraced Opeth’s musicianship and long-form songs, even indulging 
the band’s version of “Demon of the Fall” played on acoustic guitars 
(Opeth front man Mikael Arkerfeldt assured it would still “sound evil.”)A good festival takes stylistic risks, and the extreme swing of the 
Dillinger Escape Plan/Opeth pairing paid off in the end, holding the 
crowd even as Opeth played for nearly two hours.
With the raw power of Trapped Under Ice’s set on the smaller second 
stage housed in the theater’s mezzanine, and performances by Suicidal 
Tendencies, Sick of It All, and D.R.I. (Dirty Rotten Imbeciles), 
hardcore ruled the final night of the festival. That again was a bit of a
 risk as metal usually outweighs the hardcore in this equation. And 
again, risk worked, and did so because no matter what your particular 
taste in extreme music may be, the simple purity of what was being 
offered was appealing. The above-mentioned bands strip their music of 
the varnish and hype of the sort that it takes to get on the cover of 
glossy magazines, and on TV, and on the radio. Instead, they offer 
manic, passionate sets that proved to be more galvanizing than any light
 show or stage props ever could.
It is fine when Metallica or Rob Zombie shoots up in popularity and 
draws attention to a style of music too easily written off as 
inconsequential when in fact it outlasts trends and caters to a fan base
 much broader than simply pissed-off teenagers. But when that fan base 
gathers in Worcester each spring, it has little use for heavy music 
that’s been lightened up for commercial appeal. Metalfest is one of the 
few places where being blunt is far more attractive than being pretty.