The giveaway — apart from the byline and absence of Super Troopers references — that Trevor Fisher has been taking some deserved time off from IE has been zero babbling on one of three fronts: High On Fire, Superchrist, or Bible Of The Devil. Well, bonds of holy moly — Spaceballs, bee-yotch — have we a ding-dong-dilly of a dinger in “Mosh” this month!

Fisher, for those of you who’ve never met nor stolen glances of him at his monthly “Metal Up Your Tap” nights at Red Line Tap in Rogers Park (or now the Vaudeville Mews in Des Moines, as well), isn’t physically imposing. His politics, fast-food choices, and geographically indifferent sports allegiances cast little shadow on his varied tastes in metal, though his obsessions all froth over the same goblet.

Bible Of The Devil return next month with their sixth album, and it may as well be their first. For The Love Of Thugs And Fools (Cruz Del Sur) rolls up its denim sleeves and throws in some pelvic thrusts that nod more to ’70s arena rock than bludgeoning black and death metal. Could they throw in a couple acknowledgements toward the last 30 or so years of human achievement? Yes. Would it behoove them? Nope. BOTD are exactly the kind of argument you make to people who stick to nostalgia acts: without them, there’s not much that’s current to make your memories worthwhile.

We’d like to think that Fisher’s imprimatur for Superchrist — another MUYT alum — reflects BOTD, but it’s probably more to do with his mancrush on frontman Chris Black. Black also fronts High Spirits, drums for Pharaoh, writes for Nachtmystium, and runs Planet Metal, which ticks all the boxes some columnists look for in a mate. Now that the band have joined “Mosh”-friendly record label Hells Headbangers for the new Holy Shit — well, let’s just say they’re dancing in the Fisher house tonight. (And, Superchrist release the album on April 28th at Ultra Lounge playing with Bible Of The Devil!) Disentangling this mess could take days (not to mention hours of therapy), but then we’d never get to a certain hairy-chested thunder-harbinger du jour.

Lemme first digress to mention that another IE scribe once misinterpreted a song title “Diet Of Worms” to mean a surreal dinner. It was actually an historical event, though it has nothing to do with the name of High On Fire’s new record, Mysteries Of The Worm. Despite his fondness for schlock and shit, Fisher quite adroitly preceded (in fandom) the rise of both Mastodon and HOF. High On Fire, the scion of Sleep mastermind (and Matthew McConaughey wannabe) Matt Pike, has outgrown Relapse for De Vermis Mysteriis (“mysteries of the worm”), which sees light via EOne on the 3rd. The whole release wraps its arms around a number of items with which “Mosh”’s normal author wouldn’t be comfortable: the track “Fertile Green” first debuted at Pitchfork, and the title explicitly honors HP Lovecraft, and we’ve never seen Fisher read a sci-fi novel since we’ve known him. But love them still he will. High On Fire join Slayer, Anthrax, and Slipknot on the 2012 Rockstar Energy Mayhem Tour that hits First Midwest on July 21st.

Though I hesitate to advance you toward fun offered by something called Wassup Xtra Magazine, we assure you that the missing “E” hasn’t been sacrificed in the name of effort. Their “Hell On Earth Metal Fest II” features Fashion Bomb, A Born Plague, Skinwalker, Impale, Orion Nine, Bleed For The Fallen, and Miles From Exile and also boasts some giveaways — all of which goes down on the 15th at Reggies Rock Club.

Despite having neither the time nor the inclination for a comprehensive overview, I feel confident in declaring that the offshoots of classic British metal bands (Fight, GZR, Bruce Dickinson, etc.) have a shoddy history. So consider my trepidation peaking when I was first approached about Primal Rock Rebellion, the unfortunately named collaboration between Iron Maiden’s Adrian Smith and vocalist Mikee Goodman from Sikth. Smith’s checkered past already includes the daft decision to leave Maiden in 1990, which he then followed with an unheralded solo outing as ASAP (Adrian Smith And Project, which featured Zak Starkey). To his credit, Smith keeps Goodman in check on Awoken Broken (Spinefarm), and moves freely without a power-metal crutch. He clearly grew fond of Korn in the ’90s, and layers the tracks with thick, dissonant chords and overtones though has trouble distinguishing himself. What’s strange is how Goodman channels Sebastian Bach in parts, which further lends a post-grunge pop-metal feel to “I See Lights” and more, until he starts losing control and begins to rave. Congratulations on avoiding embarrassment, even if it feels every bit the one-off as ASAP.

Trevor Fisher is taking some time off.

– Steve Forstneger

Stop me if you’ve heard this one: High On Fire was great the other night. That could be the lead sentence to any High On Fire live review. Ever read a piece that says the band was just O.K. at such-and-such venue in such-and-such city? Or “High On Fire sounded good, but lacked stage presence”?

They’re not up yet, but visit our photo page next week for more Riot Fest galleries!

If Matt Pike, Des Kensel, and Jeff Matz are onstage, with instruments, and playing music (doesn’t even have to be High On Fire material, really) there is a 98.6-percent chance it rules. Scientific fact. Research was done. The band’s Riot Fest show at Metro defended said evidence.

Shirtless — of course — and shadowed by two full Emperor stacks (buy local!), Matt Pike played the opening riff of “Frosthammer” and the bludgeoning began. He and his bandmates didn’t even bother to stop and wipe Chicago’s brain matter from their boots during a condensed, tight, effective set that also included “Turk,” “Fire Flood And Plague,” and “Rumors Of War” among others. Perhaps it was the time restraints associated with an all-ages gig, but the setlist definitely favored High On Fire’s last two albums, Death Is This Communion and Snakes For The Divine. That was both good (“Bastard Samurai” has been introduced since HOF’s April, Lincoln Hall stop) and bad (no “Blessed Black Wings” or “Devilution”), but dissecting song choices is just nitpicking. It means, plain and simple, there is nothing bad to say about the Oakland trio’s performance. Plus, 2005’s Blessed Black Wings did make the clutch appearance of the night. After initially ending the night with via “Snakes For The Divine,” Pike, Kensel, and Matz re-emerged for a ferocious run through “Cometh Down Hessian.”

An aura of anticipation hovered around this show/tour not only because of High On Fire, but also because of who was playing with HOF: psych-sludge mindbender Kylesa (Laura Pleasants and Philip Cope were glorious when locked in a riff together, but how much percussion is too much percussion?) and hipster fave Torche (would have benefited playing earlier; not meaty enough to be sandwiched between Kylesa and HOF). But you fucked up if you didn’t arrive early enough for openers’ opener Droids Attack. Around as long as High On Fire and Kylesa, the Madison-based threesome made the most of a 30-minute slot with riffy, boogie-woogie, pit-stained stoner rock. The group had a quarter the stage space to operate in, but frontman Brad Van played the crowd well enough and his guitar hard enough to deserve Madison Square . . . or at least the full Metro stage.

– Trevor Fisher

So I paid $18 to see The Big Four broadcast in June. The idea of going to the movies to watch a metal concert was a bit strange and spending nearly $20 to do so was plain dumb, but I had to. My gut tells me this thing eventually comes to The States (Slayer drummer Dave Lombardo agrees; read my interview with him this issue), but there’s also the possibility it won’t. What if Metallica puss out? If you were James Hetfield or Lars Ulrich, would you risk getting blown offstage by Slayer every night (exactly what happened in Bulgaria)? Would you want to face the fact, night after night, you aren’t the best Big Four band, just the most popular?

Hence why I sat in a stuffy Evanston theater (Cinemark is obviously trying to save some bucks by decreasing A/C frequency), eating popcorn (with M&M’s mixed in!), drinking iced tea (work the next morning; no caffeine after 7 p.m.), and watching heavy metal.

It was a strange scene. Lucky for you, I packed my notebook. Below are the kind of observations you can only get from a credited, highly regarded member of the music press.

• Not one person yelled SLAYEEER all night. Unacceptable.

• Joey Belladonna literally has not changed his hair style since 1984. Are we supposed to be excited about his return to Anthrax? A whopping four years after his last one?

• Dave Mustaine looks worn out and beaten down. Haggard. His face, to quote “Seinfeld,” looks like an old catcher’s mitt. Fell off the wagon? Doubtful. Endgame would be much better if that were the case.
• How in the world does Kirk Hammett fit into pants that tight?
• Why in the world does Kirk Hammett wear pants that tight?
• Very few people in Evanston like heavy metal, apparently.
• Lars Ulrich is a douchebag.
• Mustaine sounded fucking lousy.
• At least Dave Ellefson is back. Wonder if he considered asking the soundman to turn Mustaine’s vocals down in his monitors.
• Jeff Hanneman hates you.

Now some Big Four-themed lists. Who doesn’t love lists of shit, right?

BIG FOUR BEST FOUR
1. Megadeth Rust In Peace
2. Metallica Kill ‘Em All
3. Slayer Reign In Blood
4. Megadeth Peace Sells . . . But Who’s Buying?

BIG FOUR WORST FOUR
1. Metallica St. Anger
2. Megadeth Endgame
3. Megadeth Risk
4. Metallica Reload

BIG FOUR UNDERRATED FOUR
1. Anthrax The Sound Of White Noise
2. Megadeth Youthanasia
3. Slayer God Hates Us All
4. Slayer Diabolus In Musica

HIGH ON HIGH ON FIRE: I finally own Blessed Black Wings and Death Is This Communion on vinyl. Very excited. Yes, they are reissues. No, I don’t give a shit. All three High On Fire Relapse albums (Blessed Black, Communion, and Surrounded By Thieves) are available again on wax. Each is a double-LP packaged in a special “gatefold LP Stoughton ‘tip on’ jacket.” I have absolutely no idea what that means, but shit looks real sharp. Sounds real sharp, too, of course. Various color options are available depending on which pressing you snag, but beware: Only 1,500 copies of Thieves were pressed . . . You’re an idiot if you missed HOF at Lincoln Hall back in April. They killed. Luckily, our society gives idiots second chances. Matt Pike, Jeff Matz, and Des Kensel will plunder Chicago again in October, this time as part of Riot Fest. The punk-centric festival branches out more and more each year, and besides HOF, the 2010 version also includes Corrosion Of Conformity (albeit the original, hardcore, three-piece lineup of Mike Dean, Reed Mullin, and Woody Weatherman). An official schedule wasn’t available as of press time, but Riot Fest goes down October 6th through 10th. Check www.riotfest.org.

OUR CITY IS BETTER THAN YOURS: It’s been proven: Chicago heavy metal is the most awesome heavy metal in this country. Forbes — where I go for all my headbanging headlines — recently compiled a list of the best musical cities based on 10 specific genres. The mag interrogated a bunch of expert types (journalists, producers, musicians, etc.), and they confirmed what Chicago heshers already knew: We rule, boners.

MOSH-WORTHY: Shadowgarden Ashen (Napalm); Witchery Witch Krieg (Century Media); Early Man Death Potion (The End); Hammers Of Misfortune The Bastard/The August Engine/The Locust Years/Fields/Church Of Broken Glass (Metal Blade); Aaron Aites, Audrey Ewell Until The Light Takes Us DVD (Factory 25).

MOSH-WORTHY LIVE: Torche, Yakuza Arkestra (Wicker Park Fest 8/1); Drug Honkey (Empty Bottle; 8/1); Slayer, Megadeth, Testament (UIC Pavilion, 8/20); Bible Of The Devil (Glenwood Arts Festival, 8/21); Enthroned, Destroyer 666, Cardiac Arrest (Reggie’s, 8/25).

– Trevor Fisher

By all reasonable accounts – ignoring the kinds of people who insist Mastodon’s Remission is better than Leviathan – High On Fire’s 2007 Death Is This Communion is its magnum opus. That’s partly because High On Fire is High On Fucking Fire and doesn’t bother with shit that doesn’t rule and partly because of the Oakland trio’s collaboration with Jack Endino, whose organic, epic, raw-but-never-rough production helped that shit rule even more.

Appearing: Friday, April 2nd at Lincoln Hall in Chicago.

HOF’s newest – fifth overall – album is an interesting proposition then because Endino doesn’t return. The group used a different producer on each of its past four efforts, so it’s hardly unexpected, but Snakes still sort of feels like a lost opportunity because of the switch to Greg Fidelman (who kiiiiinda sucked on the last Slayer, too). He doesn’t ruin the album, but his dry, punchless production and awkward, clumsy mixing – shame on you, too, Don Gordon – doesn’t do the material any favors. Frontman/guitarist Matt Pike is a bona fide Bad Motherfucker (it surely says so on his wallet), so Fidelman can be excused for bumping up Pike’s carton-of-Reds-and-bottle-of-Beam howl and enormous, genre-defining guitar in the mix some, but too often his fascination with Pike makes him lose track of bassist Jeff Matz and skinsman Des Kensel (a powerhouse and mood-establishing drummer) altogether. Recording 101: A power trio is only as powerful as each member of the trio.

But the thing is, Fidelman’s grandmother could have produced Snakes. Wouldn’t of mattered. High On Fire is on top of every aspect of its game right now. “How Dark We Pray” proves Pike, Matz, and Kensel’s songwriting continues to evolve; “Ghost Neck” proves Pike’s guitar can save them when it regresses; “Bastard Samurai” proves HOF can play slow(er) without sacrificing impact; and “Fire, Flood & Plague” proves sometimes it best to just go as fast as possible. Snakes has moments ( Pike’s blood-boiling “repelled” screams on the title track and the building intensity of “Bastard Samurai,” for example) literally capable of spreading goose bumps. Those are the times   you listen, lean back in your chair, close your eyes, and think “Holy shit.”

Does it have as many of those instances as “Communion”? No. But Communion could very well be a once-in-a-career album, so in this case there’s no shame in releasing a follow-up that’s only slighty less mindblowing. 

– Trevor Fisher

A curious bill of artists mixing an odd hodgepodge of metal styles, a fictional band brought to life, and a psychedelic astral journey set to prog-metal made for an astounding, exhausting night of music.

Bludgeoning the audience with the thundering roar of its thrashing, sludgy metal, High On Fire set the tone for the night with the skull-crushing opening cut from Death Is This Communion, “Fury Whip.” Monstrous drums and cataclysmic guitar rained down as Matt Pike and company jack hammered through the furious stop-start riff. From then on, Pike unleashed a brutally relentless assault of molten stoner riffs, blazing solos, and flying saliva. Thankfully, we were well out of range of that last bit.

Venerable hardcore veteran Converge seemed a misplaced candidate for this bill, but there was Kurt Ballou standing alone, center stage, pumping out the shattered glass riff of “Plagues” before the rest of the band jumped on stage. For the next 30 minutes, the guys were a furious blur of pin-wheeling arms, arched backs, and whipped instruments as they ripped through a harrowing set that focused on post-Jane Doe material, and included a few pile-driving cuts from its latest release, Axe To Fall (Epitaph). Jacob Bannon left no ear unscathed, as his shrieking bark tore through the mix, buffeted by Ballou’s gory, apocalyptic guitar. Few metalheads in the audience were inspired by Converge’s crashing clamor and voracious energy, but when Ballou and bassist Nate Newton joined Bannon in bellowing, “I’ll take my love/To the grave” in “The Broken Vow,” it was an exhilaratingly cathartic moment.

For this tour, Mastodon is tasking a risky gambit, playing Crack The Skye (Warner Bros.) in its entirety. Conceptually, it’s a labyrinthine piece, brimming with mystical flights of fancy, fantastical allegories, and supernatural characters all layered into a twisted, dense story. Conveying that story on stage would seem to be a daunting task, but from the opening see-sawing riff of “Oblivion”  to the final echoing crackle of “The Last Baron,” Mastodon masterfully executed its opus.

Brent Hinds’ guitar wizardry is the core of Skye and he fluidly rattled off the brittle, Pink Floyd-esque melody of “The Czar” with each note ringing through the rafters, and the crooked, rough crunch of the title track. Bill Kelliher supplied soaring, lush counterpoint to Hinds’ shimmering lead in “The Last Baron,” and ample chunk and grind in “Divinations.” Troy Sanders’ thick, wide bass was surgically welded to Brann Dailor’s technically precise, nimble drumming, and their lock-step rhythms anchored the guitar pyrotechnics, as a streaming video montage of surrealistic images and visual metaphors hinted at the story without slavishly reflecting a literal interpretation. The ebb and flow of the images paralleled the mood and structure of the album, and provided a compelling visual backdrop, the iridescent light illuminating Hind’s curly mane so that it shone like a halo.

After concluding Crack The Skye, the guys took a short respite, as ambient keyboards washed over the crowd, before the blistering fusillade that launched “Circle Of Cysquatch” announced Mastodon’s return. As if to counter-balance the melodic, progressive leanings of Crack The Skye, Mastodon emphasized heavy, rib-rattling numbers for this portion of the set. It dove into the back catalog for “Aqua Dementia” and the rumbling cacophony of “Where Strides The Behemoth” before finishing with a smashing rendition of The Melvins’ “The Bit.”

Detractors have noted that Mastodon’s progressive and psychedelic tendencies have slowly but consistently eroded the thrash-metal foundation of its early career, with Crack The Skye being the culmination of that trend. If any such detractors were present, they were drowned out by the rowdy, enthusiastic crowd that relished hearing the album in its entirety, and witnessing a truly innovative metal powerhouse at the height of its power.

“Metalocalypse” star Dethklok finished off the night with a deafening set of bombastic thrash and death metal as flesh-and-blood characters replaced the animated ones. Lead guitarist and vocalist Brendon Small is the mastermind behind the whole concept, writing the characters, music, and lyrics, and he’s responsible for recruiting musicians to bring Dethklok’s music to life. The fictional characters may poke fun at metal stereotypes, and the carnage wrought in the animated television series may seem excessively crass, but musically, Dethklok is all business. Clench-fisted, intertwined guitar dynamics and explosive rhythmic dynamite propelled pummeling versions of “Bloodlines,” “Hatredcopter,” and an especially bruising performance of “Thunderhorse.” Animated images and cartoon snippets flashed across the video projection, and provided some comic distraction, while Dethklok cranked through its punishing set. If the entire project may seems a bit too clever or contrived, the music was certainly convincing, and as Jacob Bannon admonished earlier in the evening, “These guys aren’t fucking cartoons, they’re genuinely talented musicians.” He was right.

– Patrick Conlan

One night later, in Chicago . . .

The lineup at the Aragon Ballroom Saturday night was evidence enough of how popular metal is once again. Dethklok, Mastodon, Converge, and High On Fire represented a cross-section — and not nearly all-inclusive — of some of the genres supported by this broad wave of popularity. Most notable is the fact that the headlining band, Dethklok, is actually a marketing construct of Cartoon Network’s Adult Swim show “Metalocalypse.” Metal may have finally jumped the shark with this tour.

The fictional, melodic death-metal band was brought to vivid life with well-choreographed videos on a screen, showing cartoon imagery and violent, video-game action perfectly timed with the double-bass drum assault. The actual musicians, mostly running through The Dethalbum and the recently released Dethalbum II (Williams St.), were anonymously stationed in the shadows at the front of the stage. The visual projection was the focus as it mixed animated, music-video montages with apocalyptic/military-experiment/sci-fi footage. The musicians behind the spectacle delivered the goods, with the full-house crowd — the majority of which were older males — reveling in the tongue-in-cheek allusions to the cartoon and fully participating in the over-the-top, Gwar/Spinal Tap-like parody.

Progressive metal upstarts Mastodon were all business for the bulk of their set, determined to rip through the seven songs on this spring’s critically acclaimed concept album, Crack The Skye (Warner Bros.). Opener “Oblivion” suffered from a far too quiet mix of vocals, but overall the four-piece from Atlanta (with a fifth member on synthesizer) was up to the task of presenting live what on album is a complex mix of metal styles, varied tempos, and mythic storytelling. Brent Hinds and Troy Sanders ably traded off frontman duties, with the scruffy Hinds taking the spotlight on the epic “The Last Baron” for the snaking guitar solos and the vocal promise that “we can set this world ablaze.” The band also used a video screen to display a dizzying tapestry of sci-fi, fantasy, and new-age mystic images to correspond to the musical twists and turns. After a complete rendition of Crack The Skye, Mastodon launched into selections from their previous albums to round-out their 75-minute set.

Converge, around since 1990 and the band with the longest history of the four, proved to be the most animated on stage during its 40-minute set. Frontman Jacob Bannon punctuated the hardcore, extreme style with spastic movements and sprints across the stage. The Salem, Massachusetts, foursome played selections from their new album, Axe To Fall, including the title track and “Reap What You Sow.” The familiar mathcore pattern was present in these tracks, mixing frantic and ultraslow tempos to maximum cathartic effect.

High On Fire started the show with a punishing 30-minute set in front of an early arriving crowd. The drums-bass-guitar trio plays the type of caveman metal one would imagine the orcs of Mordor would dig. Bare-chested singer/guitarist Matt Pike posed like a muscular guitar god, shredding the solo to “Waste Of Tiamat” and howling like Motorhead’s Lemmy Kilmister on “Rumors Of War,” gruffly declaring over the thundering din that “Evil never sleeps.”

– Jason Scales