At some point during the set I turned to CEB and said, "Why am I at a Morbid Angel show?" "Well, Motörhead is here," he pointed out. Oh, yeah. Unfortunately for me, I had gotten there way before 11:40, which was Motörhead's scheduled time slot. So I found myself with nothing to do but watch Morbid Angel.
I can sum the show up in two words: wind machines. There are other groupings of two words that will fit, such as death metal or bad fashion, but they don't get to the point of the Morbid Angel experience quite like the words wind machines. I thought Morbid Angel was supposed to be scary. They're not scary. The singer and one of the guitarists spent the show carefully positioned in front of their giant fans (as in large wind machines, not portly onlookers) so all their much hair would blow about.
And the singer was wearing a Morbid Angel shirt. Isn't there another band that he likes whose shirt he could wear? Maybe a band that he isn't in? I bet he likes AC/DC! He could wear a nice AC/DC shirt! Maybe he was just subscribing to the philosophy of wearing a uniform to work. People who work at the grocery store have to wear little sport shirts with the store's logo; maybe he thinks that when he goes to work he should wear a shirt with the band's logo.
So, they are playing really heavy music and their hair is just whipping around and I am not entertained. The guy next to me was so entertained. If there were ever a Morbid Angel karaoke contest, he would win. He knew all the words. I couldn't tell what the words were. I asked CEB, "Should I be able to understand the lyrics?" "It's death metal," said he, "the only words you need to know are die and feces." Oh, yeah. I forgot. I'm not the last word on death metal. In fact, I'm pretty sure that seeing Morbid Angel was my first experience at a death metal show. And with any luck, it will be the last. Unless, of course, another death metal band comes to town with wind machines.