It’s been a long time since Riki Rachtman went skydiving with Megadeth, and honestly, mainstream metal programming hasn’t fared well since (sorry Jamey… it just wasn’t the same). So in theory, the prospect of a new metal talk show (featuring guest interviews, trivia, round table discussions, heated debates, etc) sounds pretty badass. Well… leave it to VH1 to take that concept and water it down (ie: piss on it) to the point where watching even 5 minutes seems like a chore. To call That Metal Show trite is almost an understatement, as there’s basically nothing “metal” about it whatsoever. (Is it me, or does the set look like a smoking lounge at the Playboy Mansion with a few Motorhead albums laying around?)

TMS suffers from a plethora of issues, but to make a long story short (too late!), it’s just plain stale. Stale format, stale jokes, stale guests and worst of all… stale metal. I shit you not, I’ve watched (suffered) through at least 8 episodes, and the most modern band I’ve heard mentioned was Slipknot. Uh… what? Yep… that’s the kind of rip-roaring metal commentary you can expect to find on TMS. Now, forgive me… I understand that it is VH1 we’re talking about here, but unless you really give a flying fuck about what the former guitarist for U.F.O. is up to these days, you might be better off watching John & Kate Plus Eight; because that’s easily more riveting (and more metal).

Despite the lack of tr00 klvt being found in the same stratosphere as TMS, what makes it even more unbearable are co-hosts Jim Florentine and Don Jamieson. With such impeccably poor comic timing, it’s difficult to tell if they actually write their own jokes or just leave it up to the interns at VH1. The only original material these two losers can seem to come up with is some variation of the words “Eddie Trunk” and “pie” being used in the same sentence. Eesh. But that’s not all… a recent episode featured both Florentine and Jamieson committing the most blasphemous act imaginable in the world of metal… admitting to preferring “Nü-tallica” to “Old-tallica”. If that’s not cause for getting the show canceled outright, I don’t know what is.

As I’m sure you could’ve guessed by now, the interviews are pretty much a disgrace as well. At least half of the guests that I’ve seen on TMS (Lita Ford, Yngwie Malmsteen, Ace Frehley, Gary Cherone) make Ghaal seem more poignant than Barack Obama. “Tea with Lemmy?” Are you kidding me? Who comes up with this shit?

If TMS does have one redeeming quality, it’s that for 22 minutes a week, old dudes like me can feel young again.

If you’re a television sadist, TMS airs on VH1 Classic on Saturdays at 11/10C… right about the time that their target audience is hitting the local karaoke bar to belt out some Creed tunes.

Justin’s Rating:

King says: “This show stinks worse than the seat of Grandma’s rocking chair.”

Mark’s Review:

I’m going to cut to the chase: VH1 Classic’s That Metal Show isn’t just an insult to metalheads everywhere, but it’s pretty much an abomination of basic cable television programming. Watching the show is like enduring a Bataan Death March through some of the worst joke-writing, on-air banter, and canned comedy bits this side of Public Access. I’d rather suffer a good, longwater-boarding than watch comedians Jim Florentine, Don Jamieson and radio host Eddie Trunk, “talk metal”, but apparently, the brass at VH1 and Viacom think this is the cutting edge of underground culture. What results is a giant pile of shit that makes Heavy Metal and those who love it look incredibly stupid.

There’s so much wrong with this show, it’s hard to know where to start. Florentine and Jamieson shoehorn painfully lame jokes into every interview, and when they’re not doing that, they’re dropping worthless nuggets of information about old Accept or Kix records (ie: shit no one cares about). The interviews with metal stars such as Lemmy, Geoff Tate, Lita Ford and Mike Portnoy are hurried in order to awkwardly segue into the next pre-taped, cheesy bit. Even the editing is shitty! Every episode features several drawn-out shots of one of the hosts staring into space, chin-fucking the guest while they speak off-camera. The worst part of TMS is by far Trunk, who has somehow parlayed his gig as a sub-par DJ into this. (Editor’s note: Nice glamor shot Eddie… so totally Metal!!!)

Trunk acts as the “People’s Spokesperson for Heavy Metal”, but his lack of knowledge and disregard for preparation are an embarrassment to anyone who’s ever listened to Ride the Lightning. No where is this more apparent than the extremely awful segment “Stump the Trunk“, where the studio audience gets to ask “metal trivia” questions in an effort to win crappy grab-bag prizes brought out by what I assume is a tranny dressed as Tawny Kitaen . First off, Trunk is unable to answer probably more than half the questions asked, and the ones he does answer all have to do with Kiss, UFO or Scorpions. Second, the viewer is forced to watch Trunk’s sweaty, blotchy face stammering through his replies as Florentine drags out wave after wave of loser, each one uglier and more nervous to be on camera than the previous. These audience members seem to be hand-picked and outfitted by VH1 to look the part of a metalhead. Many feature terrible tattoos, torn jean jackets, faded Kreator shirts or Zubaz.

I think the aspect of TMS that irks me the most is how they paint the metal fan as a complete moron. In the minds of the TMS producers, every metalhead wears a faded leather jacket with studs, is still rocking to WASP, and quit his job cause his boss just didn’t “get” his rebel lifestyle. So, pretty much the complete stereotype of the All-American Imbecile. Also, the guys on TMS feel like they have to explain every detail to the viewer about the topic at hand, expecting them to know nothing about typical metal facts and information. Hey VH1, maybe Trunk and the rest of the staff know nothing, but we do. Many people did not like the Riki Rachtman-hosted Headbanger’s Ball, but at least he treated the audience with respect, and assumed you had a passion for what is new and a knowledge of your metal history. That Metal Show is an out-of-touch and ridiculous reminder of what people still think Heavy Metal is, and it’s broadcast is a waste of airtime and technology.

Mark’s Rating:

King says: “Zero metal = Zero makeup.”

Mark’s Review:

I couldn’t believe the amount of total and utter douchebags that are attracted to Meshuggah! I figured that the crowd on a Sunday night would be filled with prog-metal nerds discussing time signatures, diminished-note arrangements and internet message boards. Instead, the House of Blues was packed with young ass-clowns sucking down beers and pushing to get into a pit that was non-existent (how can you mosh to something in 7/9???). Also… when did girls get into prog-metal??? Did I miss this memo? And I’m not talking about your typical plus-sized she-man with black leggings and an Andromeda t-shirt… I’m talking about regular, hot girls that look like they just got off of work at Hollister. Where were these chicks in 1994 when I was pinned between two sweaty, fat guys in jean jackets headbanging their hair in my face during Corrosion of Conformity? Well, I guess Obama promised change, and here it is. It’s obviously a different time now than it was 15 years ago, which is about the last time Cynic toured the US.

Cynic took the stage after young, tech-metallers The Faceless got things underway. The swell of anticipation covered the crowd as the droning tones and meditative notes of Nunc Fluens began to amplify. By the time Sean Reinhert pounded out the opening fills in A Space for This, you could tell that Cynic was not fucking around, they were making up for lost time. Paul Masvidal and Co. blasted their way through a setlist that perfectly blending songs from 1993’s debut Focus, and 2008’s masterpiece Traced in Air. His vocoder-vocals and headstock-less guitar were dead-on, and he wasted no time with stage banter, letting a pre-recorded “transcendental Yogi” do most of the guiding. Their sound was loud, controlled and confident, and they benefited from by far the best house mix of the night. Highlights were definitely Uroboric Forms and Veil of Maya, which exploded from the monitors and showed off Reinhert’s unbelievable chops. I’ve been listening to Traced in Air pretty much non-stop since it came out, so ending the night with Integral Birth was amazing. Unfortunately, Cynic left the stage to the taunts of the previously-mentioned douchebags, who were happy their “gay” set had come to a close. I mean, sure, Masvidal is a little effeminate, but c’mon, would you yell that at Halford??

I was there to see Cynic because, for me, they were the main course. But I like Meshuggah, and figured it would be like eating a ridiculous dessert after a steak dinner… unnecessary but very enjoyable. I loved obZen and listen to Nothing and Chaosphere pretty often, so I really was anxious to see how they would perform these impossible songs live. Opening with Pravus, Meshuggah quickly took control over the crowd, but there was something missing… VOLUME! Meshuggah does not use cabinets, they pipe everything through the monitors in order to obtain an ultra-clean sound. This is great, but coupled with the tuning on their baritone guitars, led to volume levels that were so low, I could hardly hear anything. Once they began Bleed, I think the sound guys pumped things up a bit, but the fact that I was having conversations with out yelling, was a problem. Now, I was downstairs at the House of Blues, and Justin said the sound was much better upstairs, but it was still a letdown. You see, I think Meshuggah’s power is the fact that their rapidly changing rhythms and swirling riffs seem to engulf you and become this evolving storm that traps the listener. When I listen to an album, there’s so much chaos you lose track of what is up and what is down, all while Jens Kidman is screaming at you. Without the volume to fully crush the audience, I felt a lot of that effect was lost.

Mark’s Rating:

King says: “That guy from Cynic uses a vocoder?? Hmmm, I guess that’s ok…”

Justin’s Review:

Here’s the thing… with the exception of the sound there, the House of Blues fucking sucks. For a venue that is held in such high regard by the general public, H.O.B. is a shitty place to try and see a metal show. Especially one that’s sold out. The layout there is terrible, and unless you feel like being crammed into the main floor or manage to be in the front row of any other section of the venue, you’re shit-outta-luck.

It’s a rare thing to walk into a venue 15 minutes before the show even starts and have absolutely no place to move or see. Such was the case this evening. As Mark already made clear, Meshuggah seems to have some sort of magical allure that brings nü-metallers out of hibernation, ready to get their drink and mosh on. I simply don’t get it. Is it because their guitars go to 8? Is it the token bald singer?? What the fuck??? I haven’t seen that many stereotypical dipshit metalheads in one place since the last time I saw Slayer. The d-bags were out in full effect, and that certainly didn’t help my attitude or my sight-lines.

The Faceless opened the evening with an impressive array of instrumental finger-banging. Considering half these dudes were probably pooping their diapers when …And Justice for All came out, they certainly know their phrygian scales and shit like that. They lost a little muster once their singer came out, and overall, the hyper-tech-death shtick wore thin after the first 15 minutes, but overall not bad.

By the time Cynic were about to take the stage, the crowd was really starting to get out of control. I swear, you’d think we were at a Justin Timberlake concert surrounded by 14-year-old girls or something, because everyone seemed to want to push their way onto the main floor (it just so happened that we were standing in the middle of the entrance to said floor, so that didn’t help). Apparently, Paul Masvidal & Co. really ARE a prog-snob’s wet dream. In fact, by the time we made it to the upstairs balcony, I think I caught a glimpse of Mark with his hand down his pants. Of course, he might’ve just been adjusting himself, because Cynic put on a boner-inducing show. Rather than reiterate Mark’s synopsis, let me just sum it up by saying, if you have the chance to see these guys live… do so. Cynic rival Neurosis in terms of being both an extremely tight AND incredibly dynamic live band. Drummer Sean Reinhert in particular was a real treat to watch (or in my case… listen to. I’d like to point out that, even though we made it upstairs, we still couldn’t see shit. The only thing we had a better view of was one of the various tv monitors H.O.B. utilizes to run a multi-camera feed of the show).

After the unusually long changeover, Meshuggah hit the stage, tuned down and ready to destroy. Unfortunately for them, the only eardrums bursting this evening were from people getting punched in the head down below. As Mark points out, Meshuggah were left sounding a little flat… especially when compared to Cynic. That being said, there were still plenty of things to enjoy:

• Watching them pull off Bleed live… very impressive.
• Meshuggah has perfected what I deem the “full-body-bang”… sort of like head-banging, but with your waist rather than your neck (I attribute this to very very heavy guitars).
• Meshuggah’s lighting guy. This dude knows his shit. In fact, i wouldn’t be surprised if they had the lighting cues triggered from Tomas Haake’s kick pedal.
• The homage to Tool’s set design. No matter what you think of Tool’s music, it’s difficult to deny how awesome their visual aesthetic is. Meshuggah agrees.
• My cohorts in the balcony attempting to head-bang in time with New Millennium Cyanide Christ. Hilarious and disturbing… sort of like watching Elaine dance.
• Straws Pulled at Random… that song fucking RULES.

Despite an evening worth of solid sets, I’m still going to think twice before venturing out to H.O.B. any time soon (damn you Opeth & Enslaved). I spent $100+ dollars for (2) tickets, parking and (2) drinks… all to basically watch the show on tv all night. Add this to the fact that they don’t allow cameras, and charge $5 for coat check (per coat). LAME.

Justin’s Rating:

King says: “Progressive Metal… good, Corporate Venue… bad!”