Thrash actions | Bleader

Thrash actions

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The bruises that I got at Saturday's thrash-centric Mauled by Tigers event at the Mutiny were mild and have mostly healed. The stains on my clothes—the residue of a liquid mixture of beer, sweat, and whatever oil-black substance that was on the Mutiny's floor—seem to be a little more permanent. And the memories, well the memories are a little blurry, but I think I had a good time. The crowd kept the Mutiny at capacity for most of the night, as bass-free locals Skullzone and the grind-ier Altered Beast inspired a small but furious pit, resulting in the aforementioned bruising and possibly toxic mosh-juice.

As with any sort of metal-based show, there was some requisite griping from the couple of tru-metalists hanging out near the back. "The reason why this metal is false," I overheard one of them saying to another, "is that their crowd keeps yelling, 'Metal!'" And he may have had something resembling a point. To the cynical eye—and it's hard to get more deeply cynical than a tru-metal guy—the out-of-left-field trend of reviving 80s thrash, with dudes hanging out in baseball caps with the bills turned up a la the Suicidal Tendencies, could look a lot like the recent spate of retro-hip-hop kids rocking limited-edition throwback Nikes: musical revivalism in the name of fashion, or at least so closely linked as to be nearly inseparable. But I have a hard time arguing with under-a-minute punk blasts, a hyperactive co-ed pit, and anyone willing to sweat through everything they're wearing, in any situation. And, seriously, did anyone even take thrash that seriously the first time around?

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