Black Label Society Concert 17&18 May 05

This is Club Quattro. Nestled away within the bowels of the Shibuya district of Tokyo, it is one hard motherfucker to find. It is a sports outlet on the first 3 floors and a night club that seats roughly 6-700 people on the 4th & 5th floors. Talk about a stark contrast.

I had been here the first time in 2003 to catch Zakk Wylde perform with his band the Black Label Society and spent a better portion of the day trying to locate this place, despite having recieved directions from a cute Japanese girl at the near-by Tower Records. Having not been back for 2 years, I was surprised how with relative ease I was able to rediscover its location. Like Lemmings plummeting to their deaths off a cliff, I too was lead by instinct to this sea of rock n roll.



Upon seeing this sign I knew I was definitely in the right spot! Sweet! Zakk was scheduled to play for 2 nights here, 17 & 18 May and no way was I about to fucking miss it for the world. Fuck no! My justification was that for the past 10 months I've been stuck hiberating in Korea and this was the first good thing to come along that gave me reason to wake up and get out of my shell. The whole 'Mom and Dad are watching' mentality is virtually non-existant in Japan, unlike the ROK. Leadership is so much more relaxed and for all the right reasons in my opinion. I figured I would hang out and be the first in line to grab a kick-ass spot up in the front. Last time I waited I met Zakk and his wife Barbara-Ann before the concert since they showed up 2 hours early before the show began. I spoke with his wife for a little bit, thanking her for what she and Zakk have both done to bring something so wonderful to this part of the world. They're both really great down-to-earth people. Honestly.

I decide after a while of waiting with nothing showing up, I would go get something to eat at the nearby McDonald's just down the street, when I bump into this weird looking dude named Terry. Terry flew all the way from Tennessee to give Zakk a custom made guitar he did for him and thought I was somehow part of the roadcrew. I was wearing my BLS Harley vest, the same kind they wear, which was easy to mistake me as being with the band.



"Are you looking for the club?" he enquired me as I turned around to see who it was that was talking.

"No, actually I've already found it - thanks!" I replied back.

This guy reminded me of the manager dude from the movie Rock Star starring Mark Wahlberg from a few years ago, in which (ironically enough), Zakk has a part in the film where he plays a guitarist for the band Steel Dragon. Anycase, not to digress, Terry is what you get if you were a stoner from the 80's that has partied too much and still thinks that now is then. The dude was in his mid-40's, reeked of day-old beer and smelled like a nasty high school gym locker room that had soured over the weekend before the janitor came in and opened the windows first thing Monday morning. Yes, that fucking nasty.

Terry starts to tell me stories how him and Zakk partied in Los Angeles the Friday before flying out here by drinking one another crazy. Now I've seen Zakk chug 10 beers at his concerts and the man can hold his own. Judging from the looks of Terry's enormous beer gut, I could say the same about him. Anycase, he goes on to say how he's going to hang with Zakk later and I tell him how much I would appreciate it if I could meet the guy too. After all, I've flown all the way from Butt-Fuck Korea to see the show and Zakk's a big supporter of the military. Certainly Terry can pull some strings for me backstage!

Hell no.

Terry just says that shit to impress people and use it like some special kind of power. The way I figured it, this was one of the few things in his life he could brag about not fucking up, and wasn't about to let anyone else join in on the fun. I suppose if I were in the same boat as he was (aging Hessian loser with not a dime to his name), I would hold on to what little scraps of achievement I could too.

We continue talking for a while and then from out of nowhere, the roadcrew pops out from behind us at Club Quattro and slip out for a bite to eat. They had come through the back door to set up the stage and had finished early.



The dude in the middle with the Amish beard is named Stewie. I'll get to him in a little bit. I thanked the roadcrew for doing such a kick-ass job taking care of Zakk and all his shit since it's truly a team effort to make a concert run smoothly, and these guys don't get shit for recognition. They scampered off to the nearby Outback Steakhouse just around the corner which was the last I saw of them before the show started. Terry asked if they were set up and he went inside to see what was going on.

People start to slowly gather and by this time it's close to 6pm. All of a sudden, ZAKK FUCKING WYLDE shows up - like the roadcrew - by using the back entrance. HOLY SHIT!



People start rushing Zakk for an autograph as he's trying to get to the elevator. Since I'm the only person there that speaks English fluently, I muster the courage to say something to him.

"Hey bro! Thanks for coming out tonight! Your shows kick ASS!" I said without trying to sound too much like a pussy.

"Thanks man. Tonight's show is gonna be great - I need to go put my tampon in before we start." he replied jokingly.

One thing I admire about Zakk is how fucking down-to-earth the guy really is. I know I said that already, but I had to drive the point home once more.

By now I was REALLY excited for the show to begin! Fucking A! I'm going to get a great spot now! Right?

Wrong.

The Japanese, in their perpetual quest for efficiency and organization have decided to assign people NUMBERS on the bottom of each concert ticket, dictating when they're allowed to enter the building.

You've got to be shitting me.

I've waited 4 goddamned hours in line just to be the first! Fuck if I'm going to let some slope bastard tell me I've gotta let some dickhead that shows up 10 minutes before the show starts ahead of me because his number is lower than mine! Fuck him AND the asshole with the lower ticket number! I was number 371 or something when I looked at the bottom of my ticket. So that means I have to let 370 people ahead of me.

Goddammit.

Okay. I'm going to cause a scene, I mean after all there has to be plenty of kick ass spots available once I get in. And sure enough there was.

Once again, the Japanese in their quest for efficiency and organization like sitting towards the back of the bar instead of the front where it gets crowded and stuffy. Perhaps it's a metropolitan thing or they're just trying to be chic like Yoko Ono - who the fuck knows - but I was able to get a sweet spot in front, just 2 rows back.

No sooner did the concert start than the Japs all start pushing their way forward and it becomes a giant JapMachineOrgy of flailing limbs and body fluids flying aimlessly. The only cool thing about being crammed so close together is that if some Japanese chick touched my ass or something, it would be the first sex I had experienced in quite a long time. And let's just leave things at that.

One thing I like about seeing Black Label Society perform in Japan is the fact there is no shitty opening act you have to suffer through before the main event. It's 2 1/2 hours of pure BLS bliss. Zakk comes out on stage and the motherfucker looks like a viking. 6'2, the fucker is stacked like a brick shit house and can kick all your fucking asses without breaking a sweat. His presence is that commanding. And he plays guitar like it's nobody fucking business too. He breaks out one song after another - new shit from the Mafia CD that just released, as well as some of his previous shit from Blessed Hellride and 1919 Eternal. Because he used to play with Ozzy Ozbourne, he has a carte blanche agreement that he can play any Ozzy/Sabbath tunes at his shows without having to pay royalties. Pretty fucking sweet, huh? Mama, I'm coming home was played the first night and Iron Man was played the second night. Kick ass. He played a tribute song to "Dimebag" Darryl Abbott in the middle of the concert and Genocide Junkies as a salute to all US servicemembers as the very last song of the night. According to him, every concert ends with him paying tribute to the jobs we do, and does it out of respect for his dad who was a WWII vet.

Remember how Zakk throws down beer like a fucking mad-man? Well, he had 10 beers on the amplifiers and by night's end they were all gone. They had been consumed or thrown onto the audience as he chugged them in between songs, and I got splashed with one each night. I consider it as my baptism into the Black Label Society Tokyo Chapter. My christening had become official the second night when I caught the very last concert shirt he threw into the audience. I swear, he must've known I was military or something and made a fucking bee-line straight at me when he pitched it.



After the concert as people were piling out of the club, I met up with Stewie the roadie and we bullshit for a little bit. I told him I was in the military and he thought it was cool as fuck and how much respect he had for us all. I told him it was because of concerts and the ability to have rock music I tolerate the majority of the bullshit the military throws at me, because at the end of a day I turn to music to blow off steam and recharge my batteries. Not religion, not politics, not sex or family or community has been able to provide me the same comfort music has. It's been there through good times and bad times alike.




It wasn't too long before the band members came out to sign autographs. This is Nick Catanese, the back-up guitarist for Zakk. Nick is cool as fuck and let me snap this pic, despite the asshole Jap bouncer that told me repeatedly not to do it. Fuck you, you dick! It's a public street and you have no right telling me what I can and can't do!




James LoMenzo - this dude plays bass for Zakk and is the god-father of his daughter. James was cool as fuck too. Laid back and chilled, even when on stage. This is a really shitty pic and apologize for such poor quality.

The drummer, Craig Nunamacher, is missing from the photos. If I get one I'll post it here later. He's a crazy motherfucker too!

Zakk didn't stick around too long. He came out of the club and within a flash was in the mini-van and gone. I guess he just wasn't feeling it that night.




Here's a pic of some of the cool Japanese dudes that showed up to the concert on the first night. One thing I really notice missing at alot of metal concerts is the fair amount of chicks and over-abundance of dudes. It's a fucking sausage-fest and unless you're Rob Halford of Judas Priest you're gonna wanna see tits and hopefully score some free poo-nani. I hate to say it but I've scored more trim at a They Might Be Giants concert than at any band I've seen perform live. Too bad they don't tour in this neck of the woods!


The second night of the concert was more chilled out than anything else. Stewie came out on the stage with a bullhorn and started spouting some hillbilly nonsense gibberish getting the crowd to sing along saying "Oh yeaaaaaah ~!" for about 5 minutes. Naturally the Japanese don't understand the majority of what he's saying and just go with the flow. Once again, I take advantage of being fluent in English and when he starts throwing jokes out to the crowd, I fire some obnoxious shit right back.

"I slept with yo' momma last night!" he proclaimed loudly.

"I'M SORRY! I scream right back.

He starts busting up laughing and replies back:

"I'm only joking."

"So was she!!"

But the funniest part is when Nick Catanese came out on stage wearing a fucking Darth Vader mask like the shitty kind in the Misawa photographs and tries to push the button to do the James Earl Jones voice, only to get it wrong. The Japanese all start singing the Darth Vader song as he comes out and start laughing their asses off. After he leaves the stage, Zakk does a 20 minute acoustic solo which almost brought tears to my eyes, it was that beautiful, to have the band re-emerge for the next song with Craig Nunemacher wearing the Darth Vader helmet portion sans face plate like a World War II Nazi soldier. You can really tell they enjoy what they do for a living.

As much as I wanted to stick around after the concert to shoot the bullshit with Zakk and the guys, I had a train to catch back to Yokota Air Base where I was staying and it takes roughly an hour and a half to travel from Shibuya Hachiko Station to Fussa station, and didn't want to risk missing the last train out. As efficient and organized as the Japanese are, they don't fuck around when it comes to keeping a schedule. You're either present or you're not when it comes to trains, buses, planes, and any other form of transportation or schedule to be kept. So I took off like a bat out of Hell, thanking the powers that be for the 2 best fucking nights I've had this year to date. Hell yeah.



This is the crew from the second night that showed up. Some Japanese guy, some Canadian guy, myself acting like some jack-ass and some German dude.

Fucking goddamned sausage-fest, I know.