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Written by Ryan Parker Sunday, 22 June 2008 06:40

Jasta and Co. never backed off, and their audience refused to give in, either.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pop's, Sauget, Ill.

 

Controlled violence. A wise professor once tried to explain the need for this in our society. The professor was a peaceful, former flower child, a loving father and grandfather. Yet there he stood in front of a class of college students explaining how, over the millennia, humans have always had a need—maybe even a passion—for some sort of violence in their lives. This issue is usually cured with a good war or maybe a local riot. However, humans believe themselves to be civilized intelligent creatures; most have tried their best to remove the potential of real violence and damage from their lives. That ancient voice still calls to us, though, and we flock to the stadiums and our TV sets to watch football games, boxing matches, martial arts fights, even choreographed matches of violence in the form of professional wrestling. All of these are examples of actions that, if performed at random on a street, would be considered violent, yet here they are, controlled, isolated experiences in which everyone gets to go home at the end of the day; very rarely does anyone die.

Many of us never get the opportunity to participate in episodes of controlled violence and have to settle for being a spectator. But many of us still hear that ancient voice, if only on occasion; we need some way to soothe it, keep it in check—but we still want to go home safely. Perhaps this is what is so appealing about a mosh pit at a concert, and that is probably why the Hatebreed concert at Pop's was one of the best examples of controlled violence for the masses I have ever seen.

The lineup of Conquest, 3 Inches of Blood, Type O Negative and Hatebreed brought a very mixed, near-capacity crowd to the venue that was sufficiently warmed up by the first two bands. After Type O Negative, most of their fans who had come specifically for them left, but about three-fourths of the people remained for Hatebreed. As soon as Hatebreed took the stage, front man Jamey Jasta immediately challenged the audience to raise the intensity level. Though this is often done in an almost clichéd ritual, when a guy like Jasta does it, is very convincing. So, when the first power chords started tearing though the hall from the guitar players on stage, the audience on the floor in front of the stage immediately started to move like a turbulent ocean during a storm. Not just a handful of guys in the center but the entire audience was pushing and moving against each other. This would carry throughout the entire one-hour performance. Jasta and Co. never backed off, and their audience refused to give in, either.

The band ripped though songs that highlighted nearly every album, including "Never Let It Die," "Perseverance" and "Defeatist," just to name a few. Before they performed "The Most Truth," Jasta took a short pause to tell a story about watching the sufferings of his father and the trials he dealt with. And this is where the band and Jasta make their mark. Their songs are directed at the core of the audience's emotions. They know the people on the floor come from broken homes, abuse, poverty and the other statistical misfortunes that fall on so many in our society. Though their songs have a hard edge and are very aggressive in nature, they also have a message of not backing down, not giving up and, of course, persevering. If anyone had happened to wander into the middle of their set that night, they might have seen a sight that hinged on the line of chaos and anarchy; in all reality, though, they would have been witnessing a form of therapy that allows a modern person briefly give into an ancient instinct. Everyone left the venue as healthy as they entered it earlier in the night, and some probably left a little stronger, more confident and very satisfied. | Ryan Parker