JUDAS PRIEST/SHADOWS FALL
Mohegan Sun Arena, Uncasville CT. 8/29/04
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Imagine being cut off from so-called Civilization for a day and a half, only to make a crash landing back into it, welcomed by the sight--no pun intended--of Rob Halford marching out of a huge eye pupil. It was a synapse melting experience to be sure and I hadn't had anything stronger than a diet Coke.
I wasn't initially planning to write a review of this concert, which I went to largely for reasons of personal nostalgia. But goddamnit, Judas Priest put on such a vital, throttling and fun show that I can't help but want to sing their praises.

Just a little background, though. I had been camping in Vermont for the last 36 hours and had barely had time to hop over to Mohegan Sun for this gig. I find the casino experience surreal enough, even without having just spent time in the dead of the woods. Couple this with the fact that the place was swarming with heavy metal fans of every age and denomination from Earth Crisis kids to toothless bikers and you have a real bit of sensory overload to contend with. No matter though, it was Judas Priest with Halford at the helm once more. I'd missed my chance back in '91 when my deadbeat brother had bought tickets to see them with Motorhead. At the last minute he'd passed me over for some detox floozie, so no "Operation Rock & Roll" --as the tour was called--for me. Somehow over the next decade plus I'd never gotten to see this Great British Export. I even fluffed my chance to see them with Tim "Ripper" Owens manning the vocals. At the beginning of this summer I swore that I'd see this gig, come hell or high water.

I was still picking off the ticks and shaking off the pine needles when openers Shadows Fall started to bring forth. Their brand of dreadlock flailing chugga chugga was impressive enough, though I know next to nothing about this act so it's impossible for me to make any sort of judgment on their performance. Respect must be paid to the drummer, who was wearing a neck brace but still managed to rock out. All told, decent if not mind blowing.

As mentioned, Halford started the show by emerging from the pupil of the gigantic eye that served as backdrop for the stage. Even in this jaded day and age, it's hard not to be purely captivated on some level by this legendary metal mouthpiece. Was it the mirrored shades? The tattooed and shaved noggin? The floor length studded leather duster (one of several he wore throughout the show)? None of these trappings? All of them? No matter. Halford is a man who means business and after thirty years he still sets about his task with zest, or he's just one hell of a good actor. I'm prone to cynicism, but I'm inclined to think the former.

It's hard to imagine any big name rocker of the HM variety growing old gracefully, feted as we are by the spectacle of the Korsakov and media addled Ozzy, but Halford is pulling it off nicely if this gig is anything to go by. He doesn't charge about the stage trying to recapture past glories, but he's a long way from creaky. His current niche seems to be somewhere between the histrionics of old and a new, understated, but still compellingly watchable presence. Manically pacing the stage like one of those mechanical toys, he brought to mind Ming the Merciless, primo era Vincent Price and even a bit of Marty Feldman. The rest of the band, K.K. Downing, Glen Tipton, and the others have seemingly charted similar territory. In short, the Priest are old, but they know it, don't try and hide it, and are comfortable enough with their legacy to relax as they bring forth the goods.

All the goods were there, too. The opener of "Electric Eye" and "Metal Gods" wasn't exactly novel, but it wasn't stone cold predictable either. The crème center of the show was the trio of "Heading Out to the Highway", "Diamonds And Rust" and "Breaking The Law". Everyone sounded to be in great form, with Halford's ball-grabbing shrieks once again the sonic centerpiece of the band's assault. Of course, I don't have any basis for comparison but I know this band has had their dud periods like everyone else. Surprises came with "Sad Wings Of Destiny" and "Green Manalishi", neither of which anyone would have missed, yet everyone loved when they were trotted out.

The whole concert seemed like one big finale, which made it all the more riveting when Halford finally did appear on his custom Harley and let us have it with "Hell Bent For Leather", "Living After Midnight" and a rousing rendition of their secret Oi number "United". (A tune which Sleazegrinder once told me he thought was "one of the stupidest fucking songs ever").* The show closer of "You Got Another Thing Coming" was predictable, but no less the exultant for it.

It's hard for me to be objective about Judas Priest as they are tied in with vivid recollections of my late brother. I can distinctly remember us cruising around Allston/Brighton with "British Steel" jammed in the tape deck, heading toward the Merit station just over the bridge that crosses the Mass. Pike at two in the morning. The brightest parts of nostalgia are seemingly random moments like these, so this review is respectfully dedicated to his memory.
-Sascha G.

* I believe my actual analysis was "one of the gayest fuckin' songs ever", but either one works. It should be noted that we have British Steel in rotation in the Sleazemobile, and the first time Stacey heard "United", she remarked, "So, really, none of you guys figured out Rob Halford was gay?"
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pix: Judaspriest.com