Friday September 4th, whether you were a local walking to the show or had to drive a little bit, mother-nature poured her temper out all over Ohio. Whether you got drenched in rain, hammered with hail or blown away by wind, the early Cincinnati concert crowd braved the elements to get a good spot front and center for the night’s entertainment. The punk and pretty (for the most part) Babe Rage, Dayton’s entourage of the unordinary The Nightbeast and straight from the hot sun-licked fun slide under the yellow M in central LA came the forefathers of filet-o-fish metal, Mac Sabbath.
For a night mostly spent in bizarro land the seriousness started and ended with the opening act. The mostly female trio accompanied by the bearded one on drums played a set of straight forward bass pounding, drum beating, and guitar reverberating tunes with fem-power inspired yelling and chanting.
Best described or interpreted as Babes in Toyland meet Nirvana, they played a collection of art punk, noise rock and witchcore. From the streets and grind of Cincinnati came the polka dot gothic charm of bassist/vocalist Rachelle, vocalist Jen in camo, guitar harnessing feedback and jamming at will and Daisy on drums.
“Liar” had a deliberate marching beat and bass thud as Jen commanded the reverb. The fast paced cathartic sludge of “I’m pretty” counter acted the slow methodic pace of “Like a Drone.”
There was a certain blunt spellcasting quality to “Fuck You,” as they ended with the slow build, Sabbath melancholy of “Edible Woman.”
Straight outta Dayton, weighing in at an undisclosed amount, the heavily tattooed, bearded and always ready to party six man band, the Nightbeast came out to mix it up and throw down, before the clowns came out. When you’re sandwiched between a fem-punk band and a headliner playing Sabbath dressed as food icons, you have to make an impression. Half Village People without the outfits and half DJ without the gear, though all the combined skin art might have screamed out louder than they did. In the spirit of Sugar Ray, Steel Panther and Andrew WK they praised and pimped the stage with a weird but amusing brotherly comradery.
Were they serious? Cincinnati was the judge, but whatever it is they did on stage that night or any other, they enjoyed it. It was a twin-bearded vocal attack bringing the crowd a metal rap show with hijinks. They brought hip-hop, (striptease) showmanship and a strange somewhat uncomfortable uniqueness needed for a show of this nature. Audience members weren’t sure whether to smile, laugh or text. They were sexy, in a morning after kinda way, with songs about the high life, “Livin’ Large” in the hot September summer time. Those sweet tasty Eskimo pies, good all year round and helping out the young ladies of college in whatever way possible because education comes first on a “Full-Ride.”
Thrown out of the ball pit in Silver Lake California in 2013 via the working class streets of Birmingham England circa 1970’s (they played England before leaving Cali) came the new reigning kings of the genre they recently created, Drive Thru metal. Accents included, though Ronald sometimes sounded more like Steve Zetro Souza on the cackles than Ozzy.
No burger royalty was in the house that evening but the four-some came to Bogarts to bring fun, frolic, fries and plenty of toys with their happy mauling of dark sundae favorites. The curtain came down as the costumed war pigs greeted the crowd, spiced and showered in red and yellow. Mac Sabbath was here! Wide eyed, mustached guitarist and combo #4, Slayer Mac Cheeze, the purple mad cow eating four-stringer burger slinger Grimalice and drummer of dollar menu delights Cat Burglar were loving it. Making his demented (inaudible) drive thru entrance, the killer clown slowly emerged, wrapped to go, welcoming everyone to their high calorie nightmare.
The prince of darkness and failed diets Ronald Osborne grinned. Let the mad rush begin, with a seasoned slab of “More Ribs.” They had love for all doomed poultry and chic’s alike. That would eventually end up in someone’s stomach. For those, bred and slaughtered for our appetite, they played “Chicken of the Grave.” For anyone that ever got the munchies thinking about a burger joint, they filled stomachs and mellowed the crowd with some “Sweet Beef.” Fast food competition is always at hand, so was the “Brand of Doom.”
In between snacks, flipping burgers and getting loaded on condiments Osborne told road stories about playing with established co-themed bands like B- King Diamond and Twisted Sizzler, among others. Hailing from LA they had experience and a sweet tooth for dunking those heaven-sent Dokken-Doughnuts and enjoyed some Motley Cru-tons on their veggies. Though they’re young on the road he still looks at Grimalice like a geezer. The purple one started the bass line for the nativity of fans giving everyone a “N.I.B.B.L.E.” Speaking of which, the clown pointed to several lovely ladies comparing them to chicken as they were all tasty birds. The Sabs got all the best pixie stix anyway and partied as hard as Andrew W.K.F.C.
The next song was about sweet flavors, shakes and Irish flurries. In the fast food hierarchy, the arches may be the lord of this world standing the highest but Mac Sabbath are “Lord of the Swirl.”
Osborne announced that they recorded a song that got the attention of a band called Black Sabbath, you might know them. They couldn’t leave with the iron on the grill, man. The drum beat started as Mac Cheese hit the riff and Osborne hit and licked the “Frying Pan.”
For tonight only, they mentioned that tickets were discounted for upcoming old fashioned hams Gwarby’s. They were going to Pantera Bread after the show to pass out if anyone wanted to come.
Osborne told the crowd, that in 1979 the government called them and said you can no longer sell your (fruitless) cherry pies. He said listen you fairies in boots “Cherries are Fruits.” He threw some extra-large inflated buns in the crowd to be hand tossed before rolling himself in.
They came back to play one more song. He grinned listening to the crowd chant their last late night order. He made a motion saying calm down, no need to get paranoid but insisted everyone get extra, extra lazy. You know, since everybody does drive thru instead of walking in and exercising a little. This was for their hardcore friends in Mac Flag, “Pair of Buns.”
Photos by Mike Ritchie
