Sometimes it's hard to even know where to begin.

As I sit in front of my computer today, last night's events still have not totally sunk in. I know what I saw, I know what I heard, and I now know a bit more about what happened behind the scenes, but I still have trouble wrapping my head around it. So I'll start from the beginning, and we'll see where my mind wanders.

I arrived at the Black Cat at about 8:15, hoping to buy a ticket before grabbing a pre-show bite to eat at the restaurant downstairs. People started to file in to the club's downstairs bar, appropriately named the Red Room, and I could see that the return of Pentagram would draw a mighty crowd of old school metal fans as well as the usual DC concertgoers. When the doors finally opened a bit after 9:30, I was one of the first to get upstairs and marvel at the wall of speakers on stage. I made my rounds through the room, visiting with old friends I hadn't seen in a while as well as the dedicated rockers who attend every show in the greater Washington area. By the time Alabama Thunderpussy took the stage at 10:00, at least 200 people were huddled around the stage and bars ready for the night to begin.

I've seen ATP eight times now, but never with this kind of audience. The band dedicated its set to Dimebag Darrel and seemed extra energized, both by the large crowd and the privilege of opening for two of the area's metal legends. ATP tore through a set that began with "Wage Slave" and finished with the happy-go-lucky "Sociopath Shitlist", and the return of "Hunting By Echo" and "Dryspell" to the set list made me a very happy Thunderpussy fan. The crowd, which at this point consisted mostly of older veterans of the 80s metal scene and numbered in the 400-500 range, received the band warmly, and I think it's safe to say that ATP will draw a larger crowd the next time they play a show at the Warehouse Next Door on the other side of the city. I can't wait to see them open for Gwar at the Recher Theater next month.

I'd said before the show that I'd be just as excited if any one of the three bands on the bill were playing alone, as ATP and The Hidden Hand put on absolutely amazing shows when I saw them in the closing months of 2004. ATP put on a set that blew away its December 3 show in DC, and I had every expectation of The Hidden Hand outdoing its October 29 show at the Black Cat. Sure enough, Wino, Bruce, and Dave came through. Other than the saddening news that Dave might be leaving the band, Wino's latest power trio couldn't do anything wrong. Even the usually annoying "Screw the Naysayers" and "Travesty As Usual" got my head bobbing and my foot stomping on this evening, while "Falconstone" and "Five Points" put a hefty exclamation point on a very, very heavy set. It's always a pleasure and an honor to see Wino play, and I couldn't stop smiling at the idea of seeing back-to-back performances by "living gods."

When Place of Skulls played at the Warehouse last summer, a crazy-looking old man with frizzed out hair took the stage and tore through three songs with Victor Griffin and company to finish off the night. Bobby Liebling looked like something out of a Mary Shelley movie that night, but he was also the most entertaining, engaging frontman I'd ever seen perform. I was completely captivated by his stage presence -- the crazed look in his eyes, the passion in his voice, the way he paced the stage like a boxer looking for a fight. Sure, he also looked fragile and more than a little worn down, but it didn't matter. This was Bobby-fucking-Liebling, and he was a living legend.

With that performance in mind, I had plenty of reasons to believe that Pentagram would, indeed, return to the stage on January 15, 2005 and tear the roof off. My friends and I made jokes about Bobby's reputation for missing shows, of course, but it was the kind of nervous joking that happens on shakey airplane take-offs and old, wooden roller coaster rides. We watched Bobby's latest bandmates -- the instrumental 3/4 of the fantastic Internal Void -- set up their gear, and the air filled with anticipation. Bobby hadn't shown his face all night, and we all expected him to make a grand entrance as the crowd roared with metallic appreciation.

Unfortunately, that isn't exactly what happened.

From my vantage point at the front of the stage, just two feet from guitarist Kelly Carmichael, I saw Bobby come through the backstage door and stand at the side of the stage. He looked shakey and weak, and he seemed to have trouble standing. I turned to my friends and commented, "This doesn't look good." When Bobby seemed to have trouble getting up to the stage, which sits a good three feet above the ground and lacks any kind of stairs or ramp, I tried to assure myself that he's just an old man who has trouble with tall steps. But as everyone has no doubt already heard, Bobby is not simply an old man with wild hair and a golden voice. He is also a 20-year heroin addict. And after he was finally lifted on to the stage by people who love him, this particular heroin addict could not stand up. He crawled across the stage on his hands and knees, adorned in a leather jacket and wearing a silver crucifix around his neck. Half the crowd screamed and high-fived at Bobby's arrival, while the other half stood in stunned silence and waited to see if he could get it together. Bobby crawled over to Kelly's feet, trying to pull himself upright using Kelly's microphone stand and pants leg. When that didn't work, two of his friends rushed over from the side of the stage and hoisted him to his feet by the armpits, standing him in front of his mic and telling him that it was time to play.

Instead, Bobby took one look at the sea of faces habitating the Black Cat and stumbled backward to the drum riser, sitting down next to the bass drum and rocking back and forth. A chair was brought on to the stage in the hopes that Bobby could perform from a sitting position, but instead the legendary singer curled up into a fetal position on the drum riser and refused to move. Eventually he was coaxed to come off the stage, and he was attended to by paramedics as the crowd chanted, "Bobby, Bobby, Bobby ..."

It was truly one of the saddest things I have ever seen. I have sat in rooms with musicians smoking pot, I have seen a certain frontman on a cocaine binge, and I have seen plenty of people tripping on acid. But never in my life had I ever seen a smack addict overdosing, much less on a stage in front of hundreds of fans. I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything at all. I just stood there and hoped against hope that Bobby would suddenly jump on stage and take the microphone, screaming "Surprise you fuckers!" and launching in to "Wheel of Fortune". But it was not to be. And if I, a simple fan who had never so much as exchanged basic pleasantries with Bobby, felt awkward and shocked, I cannot even begin to imagine how his band felt. So Kelly, Adam Heinzmann, and Mike Smail did the only thing they could. They started to play.

The set, which I will loosely call "a Pentagram set," was a perfect metaphor for Bobby Liebling's career. It was marred by drug use and crippled by Bobby's addiction, yet the music it produced was as heavy and beautiful as any ever played. Pentagram ripped through "Wheel of Fortune" and "Elektra Glide", with Kelly's incredible solos taking over for the lost vocals and leading the songs. After "Elektra" Dave Sherman (Earthride) and J.D. Williams (Interval Void) called Adam to the side of the stage, and after a brief conversation they jumped on stage. Each man took a microphone, and Sherman explained to all of us that "Bobby won't be with us much longer" and could not perform. Instead, he and J.D. would attempt to fill in for a few songs, taking a "The show must go on" mentality.

I admit that I have made fun of Sherman a lot in the past. He says some pretty outrageous things, and he's still the only guy I have ever seen get on stage and ask with a straight face, "Anybody got any pills?" But last night Dave Sherman earned my respect. He and J.D. made the best of a bad situation, singing with heart and conviction on a slew of Pentagram classics and doing their best to get the crowd into the Bobby-less show. They managed to recruit Skull (Black Manta) and Joe Hasselvander (<i>Sub-Basement</i>-era Pentagram) to help with vocal duties, and the set turned into a Pentagram tribute. Hundreds of people sang along with the classic "Forever My Queen", and Joe ripped "20 Buck Spin" apart with such energy that he spiked the microphone into the stage afterward and effectively ended the dual vocalist part of the set. But I was most impressed by the guys with instruments, because they played their asses off in the face of adversity. They just tucked their heads down and played those songs as well as they've ever been played, and they ignored the occasional calls of "I want my money back!" and "This is bullshit!" I want to particularly stress Kelly's performance, because he really is the most underrated guitar player in this country. If there is one guy who can match Wino's talent and sincerity behind the axe, it is Internal Void's Kelly Carmichael. When you pair a talent like that with songs like those in the Pentagram catalogue, great things will be the result.

At the end of the set, I paused long enough to give the band a richly-deserved ovation. The instrumental portion of Pentagram endured as difficult a situation as I have ever seen, and they still pulled off an incredible, powerful, and heavy set of rich doom metal. I found out afterward that, just as I had feared, Bobby did shoot up before the show, and had to be revived from an overdose just to get him to the stage. The paramedics had taken him to the hospital, and nobody seemed to know how he was doing. Strangely enough, I almost wonder if a lot of those in attendance cared. I felt a tremendous sadness for a human being who had let his life be so savagely destroyed by heroin, and it made me think of how many lives smack has destroyed. It is the one drug that literally ruins everyone it touches, from musical revolutionaries like Kurt Cobain to guys who work at convenience stores and live with their parents. I hoped that Bobby would survive this latest scare and beat the drug that had taken his chance at stardom away, but in my heart I knew that he'd just do the same thing over and over again. So while I felt that sadness and that sympathy, at the same time I couldn't help but be a bit angry. Angry not for me, but for all those people who he had truly let down. For the guys in his band, for the fans who had driven many hours to be in DC on that night, for the friends who had set up the show and encouraged him to get back on stage and "show 'em how." For the people who really had put their hearts and souls into making Pentagram live and breathe again. What right did I have to be sad? I live 10 minutes away and have been a Pentagram fan for less than two years. Screw me. What about them?

But this concert, as difficult and troubling as it was, also proved an old axiom to be true: rock-n-roll lives forever. Even though Bobby couldn't keep his shit together long enough to come through for us and give everyone what they'd come to see, he was the only one. ATP was as good as I've ever seen then. The Hidden Hand was as good as I've ever seen them. And all the people who made the Pentagram set happen, God bless them, were as good as I've ever seen a band in disarray. In the end, I did not get to see a Pentagram set. I got to see a sad, broken old man embarrass himself in front of hundreds of people who wanted to love him and cheer for him. That is a shame. But out of darkness comes light, as they say, and the 14 other musicians who performed at the Black Cat last night brought a perfect sunbeam into the dark club. It was something I will likely never forget, and I can only hope that Bobby Liebling will be as inspired by it as I was. If he can commit himself to cleaning up his act for one final run at life, maybe at the next Pentagram show he can have as much fun as I did last night. And if not, I know now that something good will still come of it. If nothing else, the songs Bobby has given us will always outlive and outshine the failures of the man himself.

ATP:
Wage Slave / Whore Adore/ Dryspell / Infested / Blasphemy / Esteem Fiend / Lunar Eclipse / Hunting By Echo / Sociopath Shitlist

HH:
Travesty As Usual / For All the Wrong Reasons / Oamyata / Screw the Naysayers / Welcome To Sunshine / Five Points / The Crossing / Falconstone / Rebellion / Desensitized

Pentagram:
Wheel of Fortune / Elektra Glide / The Ghoul (w/ Dave Sherman and J.D. Williams) / Walk in the Blue Light (w/ Dave Sherman and J.D. Williams) / Forever My Queen (w/ Dave Sherman, J.D. Williams, and Skull) / Walk in the Blue Light (w/ Dave Sherman and J.D. Williams) / Day of Reckoning (w/ Dave Sherman) / 20 Buck Spin (w/ Joe Hasselvander) / Earth Flight (w/ Dave Sherman) / Mad Dog / Show 'em How (w/ Skull)

The planned Pentagram set:
Wheel of Fortune / Elektra Glide / The Ghoul / Day of Reckoning / Starlady / Walk in the Blue Light / Catwalk / Earth Flight / Mad Dog / Prayer For an Exit Before the Dead End / Forever My Queen / City Romance / Show 'em How / 20 Buck Spin

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"You know, if you made it to prison for some reason it would probably be poetic justice if you became an Asian man's bitch. Well, as poetic as brutal ass rape can be." - Merlot's whiney ass

merlot brougham

Great review Perky. The sadness that I feel is that no matter how many words you or anyone else writes about how good everyone who came to play was, that this show will inevitably be remembered for the disappointment. I really wish I was well enough to attend, first to see my friends, and second to extoll the virtues of the musicians who played their asses off to erase the memory of drug addiction. Unfortunately, I think that will be the legacy of the show.

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Arzgarth

Very well put. Great review, under horrible circumstances.

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I love it when you crawl

Darin

Giving credit where it's due...let it be known that it was not Ronnie kalimon behind the kit it was Mike Smail. Thanks for the review...very sad.

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Dr. Perky

Thanks for the correction; I just went by the credits on Matricide.

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"You know, if you made it to prison for some reason it would probably be poetic justice if you became an Asian man's bitch. Well, as poetic as brutal ass rape can be." - Merlot's whiney ass

winoguy

Great review is right. Is making think about catching ATP open for GWAR coming up in Boston.

What's this about Dave possibly leaving HH?

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PETE

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Anyone interested in trading cdrs email me at peterlugo6@comcast.net I have around 3100 titles of doom, NWOBHM, thrash, hardcore, grindcore, black, death, 70's, classic, sludge, stoner etc.

KNUCKLEBUSTER

Perky, of all the reviews of yours I've read,that's the best one yet. Well done!

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supernerd23

I concur Doctor - that was a most excellent review. Thanks for taking time to write it up.

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Locust Furnace

nice review, Perk.

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"I'm always up for doggy time." - Dr. Perky

Dr. Perky

By the way, I'm sorry that we missed you guys on our way out after the show. I was trying to get away kind of stealthily lest a certain very drunk muscle-bound motherfucker follow me home and try to steal all my JD. Hope y'all had an easy drive back down south.

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"You know, if you made it to prison for some reason it would probably be poetic justice if you became an Asian man's bitch. Well, as poetic as brutal ass rape can be." - Merlot's whiney ass

Uncle Salty

Nice job, Nick. Maybe by the next time, ol' Bobby'll kick off so he stops ruining everyone's good time.

grooverock

I was at that show. It's too bad I don't know what most of you guys look life in real life 'cause I would've liked to have said hello. Everything perky said was pretty much dead on. I drove 450-500 miles from boston to go (earning myself a speeding ticket on the way down) and, while I won't say I'm sorry I'm did 'cause there were a lot of positive things about the experience, the one negative keeps dominating my memory of the evening.
Before the show I had dinner with friends of mine from both high school and college and had a great time. I was super hyped up for the show becuase I hadn't seen any of these bands before and I was a fan of all three. My friend and old college roomate, Matt, were also two of the first people in the club and we got our spot at the front of the stage, a little left of center. The guy next to us, who looked like bruce from the hidden hand with shorter hair, had flown in from south carolina. Both ATP and Hidden Hand were stupendous. At the end of hidden hand's said, wino said "back when I was a kid I used to go down to a club called (I forget what the name of the club was) and see a little band called pentagram." and everyone went nuts.
I was a little nervous as pentagram set up their equipment as I had seen just about everybody but Bobby watching the opening bands at one point or another. I leaned over the front of the stage to get a look at the set list and was excitied to see 20 buck spin at the bottom of the list. Then, I looked over to the left of the stage and saw a head of frizzled gray hair. I turned to Matt and said, holy shit, there he is. I turned back and he was facing me. He looked horrible, his face was gaunt and pale. He looked like he was in his ninties rather than in his fifties. He was kinda staggering a bit and clutching his arm, he seemed cold and tired. The rest of the band got on stage and took up their instruments as Bobby stood at the edge looking at the stage as it was everest. Finally a couple people lifted him up on to it. When he got on to the stage he was on all fours and as I waited for him to get up and walk to the mic, I thought that it was kind of a funny way for him to launch the new lineup of the band. He didn't get up though, he crawled over to the mic stand. At one point he yawned, revealing the fact that he was missing a number of his teeth. It looked like they had pulled a homeless guy off the street, slapped some leather pants on him, and shoved him on stage. The crowd started chanting "Bobby, Bobby." I don't think the people behind the front row realized how serious it was at that point. I was only beginning to, myself. He tried to pull himself up on the mic stand but couldn't. Finally, a couple people came out, picked him up, and stried to steady him on it. They let go of him before it looked like he really had his balance and he staggered to his left into the second mic stand. The look on Kelly's face when Bobby almost staggered into him was priceless, but not in a good way. Bobby then fell back, onto the drum riser. A chair was brought out from the side of the stage and the people who had been helping him tried to get bobby to sit up in it, but he still couldn't hold himself upright. At this point, the band launched into wheel of fortune and I remember thinking thinking that the nose level wasn't going to help him any. Finally they carried Bobby off stage and the paramedics showed up to take him to the hospital. Perky covered the rest of the set beautifully and I agree fully with his sentiments regarding the rest of the band and all the people who stepped in to sing and worked so hard to put this show together, but I will add this: Earlier in the week, I talked to Adam about doing an interview with pentagram for my radio show. In the course of prepping for it, I read an article about the band which quoted Joe Lally of Fugazi wherein he said "The way Bobby moves on stage - his presence, people don't command the stage like that anymore." I spent a lot of that night and damn near all of the drive back to boston contrasting that comment with the Bobby Liebling I saw crawling across the stage and curled up on a drum riser in the fetal position. There's a trend it seems, nowadays, to glorify musicians' drug use. You hear stories about ozzy back in the stage and Tommy Lee is on VH1 laughing about him snorting ants. "fuckin' ozzy, heh heh." There wasn't really anything funny about what went on at the Black Cat on friday. It wasn't "badass," it wasn't "rock 'n' roll," it wasn't "partyin' hard" or havin' a good time. It was just fucking sad. Hundreds of people showed up at the black cat from all across the country and probably all over the world. Probably enough to sell the place out. All these people wanted nothing more than to see him get up on stage and sing. When you looked over at him sitting on the drum riser, falling over when no one held him up, you could see he wanted to get up and sing, he really did. The shit just swallowed him whole. I've wondered why he was left by himself long enough to shoot up, or if maybe he just did it in front of people, or, worse still, if someone was back stage egging him on. But now I just wonder how he got to be at the point where what should have been such a happy night for him, for everyone there, turned into what it did.
I've never done drugs, I've never even smoked pot, but I can say with some certainty that I don't thing I'll be able to so much as drink a beer for quite some time. My 17 year-old cousin was supposed to go to the show with us that night, and I'm glad she didn't, but in some ways, I wish she had. Bobby Liebling gave the best anti-drug speech I've ever heard, and he didn't have even have to say a fucking word.

Dr. Perky

Thanks for the kind words Mathieu; your site is fantastic.

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"You know, if you made it to prison for some reason it would probably be poetic justice if you became an Asian man's bitch. Well, as poetic as brutal ass rape can be." - Merlot's whiney ass

grooverock

hey man, it was nice meeting you. Your site is fantastic, I was able to do all the research I needed to prep for the potential interview just by going through the history and interview sections.

And congrats on the setlist hat trick, I was only able to get 'em for hidden hand and atp.