Thinking that the doors opened at six rather than seven, I arrived at El Corazon two hours early. Muffled electric guitars and drums played inside the building, warming up for the crowd to come. For an hour there was no one else in the line. I watched the cars on the highway pass by and disappear beneath the overpass. I listened to the security team swear under their breath and exchange jokes with one another. The excitement was tangible in the air as fans began to pour in the line.
The head of security was a scary looking man, and by this I mean that he wore a toughened expression that seemed so natural to him. However, as I observed him, I noticed that he hid the warmest of smiles behind his graying messy beard and his eyes were full of joy and life when he conversed with his coworkers. It was maybe the third time I have been here and only at that moment did he seem like a person that was much more behind his job description.
The venue has always seemed decently large from the outside. For those who haven't seen it, El Corazon is a grungy looking building with the face of a skull pained in front of purple and black walls just above the advertisement billboards. Inside it, however, you find yourself feeling too large to fit in the almost living room sized venue. With all of the fans crammed inside, the room becomes overheated from the warmth of the fresh, sweaty bodies filling up so much space it's difficult to breathe without inhaling evaporated sweat and sticky air and it is practically impossibly to move feet or even elbows.
"As long as you are in the front, you won't be smashed," a teenage boy grinned to a homely looking girl. He looked as if he was about to burst with all of the things that he hadn't managed to speak yet. He was a loud voice in the room.
Since I was in the front of the line, I did not have to do much wriggling to get to the perfect spot in the front- the point where all the band members tend to gravitate towards: the photography honey hole not quite in the middle of the stage but almost there.
Riverpool, Death Therapy, Message from Sylvia, Wolves at the Gate, and RED all created an aura unlike any other metal concert that I have attended. Each artist created a light in the small and dark room. They used their interludes to talk casually with their fans and share their stories, but their work created something much different in its tangibility.
Metal is known as a form of release for the listener. The artists that played on this night not only managed to do so, but created a hopeful alternative on top of that.
I've spent the majority of my teen years gravitating to RED's powerful voice laced together with a unique melody of electric instruments and orchestra string. This creates a blend of the soft violin with soul shaking guitar, bass, and drums that is not like many other metal bands. Their music held the fragments of my younger self together whenever I felt like I had nothing else within me to give or to let go. It helped me restart my day or to end it with a positive note.
The beats of the bass and the drums coursed through me like blood runs through veins. The walls seemed to swell with noise and the floorboards shook. It is in these kinds of moments that revives the soul.
RED filled the crowd with energy the moment they entered the stage. Fans screamed and sang along to the lyrics with their souls attached and tears in their eyes. Songs of fear, of rage, mourning, and even praise filled the room with a tense environment that was thick with emotion and hot air.
Metal provides fans with an outlet to release negative emotion. This genre has an acquired taste. Some may say that this type of music is demonic, weepy, or whiny. As a fan of metal myself, I find it as an outlet that I can relate to or as music to write to when I am stressed. It helps me relax after a long day. RED, as well as the other artists that played that night, fill their lyrics with messages of hope.
"I come to you in pieces so you can make me whole." - RED, Pieces
To view the gallery of the concert, click the link here.
