That was the plan anyways. Torn From Existence and Ob Nixilis, two death metal bands, opened the show, and it was so lovely. We were all just a bunch of local yokels having a jam jam with our friend pies. No pressure, just playful bragging rights and growls in our ears.
And I thought the whole experience would be of that nature. Stormruler and Profanatica were going to also give us some fun, no pressure jammy jams. But that didn’t happen.
And I now think I need to make this Part Deus of what separates local bands from touring bands.
Local audiences will always support local musicians, unless those musicians are gigantic dicks. We want someone to put us on the map, we have to see these musicians at our local venues, maybe even see them at work; locals interact with locals and therefore locals tend to like locals. Which means local musicians can have a fun time on stage, can experiment with things, can practice getting their nerves out – things we cheered on tonight.
But Stormruler and Profanatica didn’t have the luxury of being local yokels. They played like they desperately needed gas money. They got in the crowd’s face, in each other’s faces, in their own faces. They never dropped their acts or their energy despite it being a slow Monday evening. They played like they knew our fucks weren’t given but earned.
Local bands don’t have to prove they’re good – we’ll support them. Touring bands have to prove time and time again they deserve to be in our town. Every show has to be on, every show has to be at 100%, every show has to give us an excuse to continue supporting them.
It only takes one bad show to ruin the goodwill they’ve created. Stormruler and Profanatica proved to us we should let them back to Colorado with high energy and thematic performances. And that, I think, separates local yokels from foreign… musicians. The out-of-towners have to earn our respect, and tonight they did.
Although maybe next time they don’t come on a Monday. Profanatica are way too intense for a Monday night. I have work tomorrow and I don’t commune with Satan for a job. That’s a weekend activity for me. Yet here we were, communing with the devil 12 hours before my shift.
To the pink wizard man – don’t stop.
Help me spread the good cheer of Satan by buying merch!
