The previous theme that I had recently christened my blog with ended up being trashed, in favor of a larger, more detailed layout that better allowed for expansion. By expansion, I mean the ease of adding items to the right sidebar (a position I’ve avoided with navigation menus for ages) as well as the fact that the main post columns have expanded. This is most important for the posting of YouTube and Animoto videos, the latter of which is still non-functional in a standard post; but, as one will see just by checking out the right-hand side of the page, it can indeed be added to the sidebar, as can my collection of userbars.

It’s almost time to head to bed; tomorrow I hope to accomplish a lot. Two more things before I go: a pair of interesting make-your-own-site links in my del.icio.us RSS feed today. The first was for JottIt, the second for Pagii. The former is excellent in its simplicity; it’s basically the easiest blog that you will ever use, and is able to take HTML in nearly every form that I’ve tested thus far. My own sample page can be found here.

However, Pagii is the most revolting thing I’ve ever seen — it looks like a bastard child of MySpace and a 5-year-old’s generic $5 clipart-and-graphic software that you find in the clearance bin at computer shows. I made a page, but I’m certainly not proud of it; furthermore, I’m worried that the interweb mutants that seem to serve no purpose besides perverting the internet with their violently epileptic MySpace page designs will find this page, and capitalize on it. Eventually everything might look like the world of Idiocracy, and, for the sake of humanity, let us NOT let that happen.
Time to finish things up and head to bed.

There is one band that I believe will continue to reign until the end of time; they have reigned as masters of the thrash metal scene that their frontman created, for almost 30 years, and with the health and musicianship of its members at a level that has been unmatched in almost a decade, they will most likely continue to reign as the biggest and most welcomed metal band in San Francisco’s history. Who is this band?

None other than Megadeth, who returned to San Francisco for the third time in the last few years on Tuesday, September 11th — an auspicious day that invoked the curiosity of metal fans who know how politically charged Dave Mustaine, the band’s charismatic frontman, has always been. Would there be a speech? Special once-in-a-lifetime performances of classic tracks? The anticipation had come to a head as two thousand metalheads marched into the Warfield Theatre, raving and shouting for mayhem and music; indeed, the crowd was several times more violent than the last time I saw Megadeth at the Warfield, back in 2004, and restless in the anticipation of their heroes.

A ubiquitous law at a metal show — especially one where the headliner has been around long enough to carve its name into the history of forming the genre — is that no matter whom the opening band is, no matter how good they may or may not be, they will be universally hated by the audience, until the main act steps up to show the rest of the bands “how it’s done.” That being said, the performance by openers The Confession — an Orange County based band that threw together every metal cliché they could muster into an enthusiastic performance — was almost entirely ill-received, with belligerent thrashers flipping the band members off instead of “throwing up the horns”. While the music was decent, the band just couldn’t make the crowd respond; their attitude began to seep through near the end of the set, so it was a slight relief to the calmer members of the audience when they left.

Hailing from Megadeth’s home of Los Angeles, California, the members of metalcore band In This Moment decided not to take their status as “openers” lying down — the band was nearly twice as energetic as their evening predecessors, and the appearance of singer Maria Brink — dressed for all the world like a twisted Alice In Wonderland — was much more well-received by the testosterone-ridden crowd. While the band’s music also received a better response than those before them, the excitement of their uniqueness wore off quickly and gave way to an even more restless crowd, who formed numerous, small mosh pits, the circles growing in size and violence as the set continued, before turning into a massive spread of grabbing, punching arms as the band finished their enthusiastic set.

It can be easily said that when the house lights snapped off for the third time that evening, signalling the arrival of Mustaine and his fellow mischief makers, the roars and screams had reached a tumultuous volume. Seconds into the opening riffs of Megadeth’s first song, the newly-written “Sleepwalker”, the floor went absolutely rabid with chaos. The smallish mosh pits formed for the openers merged into a large abyss of violence, with innocent bystanders left and right being grabbed by the metalheads, who seemed to be out for blood, such adrenaline fueled only by the blistering music that echoed relentlessly through the theatre. And it didn’t stop there; the thrill of Mustaine’s new work had barely faded when it was replaced by another, as the band roared into three more classics, with no break in between: “Take No Prisoners”, “Wake Up Dead”, and “Skin O’ My Teeth”.

Mustaine was surprisingly talkative to the crowd as the night wore on and on; after a brief hello and request for acknowledgement of the day (”We must never forget what happened… we must not let them allow us to forget what they’ve done since that day…”), Megadeth tore through more of their catalogue, old and new, before coming to the speech of the night. Mustaine preempted his next new song, “Washington’s Next!”, with a discussion of the conflicts, the conspiracy, and all of the war that had come out of the tragic events that had happened six years ago on that same fateful Tuesday, in 2001; surprisingly, it was well-received by everyone, even the cynics and naysayers who seemed to prefer when Dave stayed off of his political soapbox.

Following a thundering set, including classics like “Hangar 18″, “Tornado Of Souls”, and “Peace Sells… But Who’s Buying?”, the band finally closed the first part of their set with “Symphony of Destruction”. Returning for a killer encore with “Holy Wars… The Punishment Due”, the band suddenly gearshifted halfway through the song into an even greater classic — “Mechanix”, a killer piece from the band’s debut album. The combination of two long-loved masterpieces merged into one epic piece was enough to drive the metalheads in the theatre to a point of disorder that no one had thought possible; the air was positively thick with adrenaline as the bodies across the floor jumped, thrashed, punched, kicked, and slammed against each other in the throes of song.

And then, it was over; another night of chaos, of blood, of metal. Though I was barely alive for the band’s commencement and their kickoff of the thrash scene, I thoroughly believe that tonight, like the other 3 Megadeth shows I’ve been to in the last three years, was quite a lot like the metal days of many years past. With the 90-minute, monstrous setlist coming to a final close, the band locked arms and took a bow for their army of followers, which was greeted with cheers of a volume not yet heard that night. Mustaine himself said it best, to finally bring the evening to a close…

“You’ve been great. We’ve been Megadeth. Goodnight!”

I know there aren’t a lot of readers on my blog, but I just wanted to update it for those who do. This is the new template that I will be using, and it will undergo some changes in the next few days (hopefully). For now, you can see my Twitter feed, up on the side; pretty soon I’ll change the coloration of things and also add a Flickr badge or two. I also hope to upgrade to a new version of WordPress soon, and also create a blog for my photography and concert experiences.

Chiefly, the title has changed. Originally it was lexicon, which, in Greek, is closest to vocabulary; now it is more appropriately titled diarium, which is the Latin word that “diary” is derived from (diarium literally translates to “daily allowance”; the word journal comes from the same root — diurnalis, “daily”). I’m trying to keep a theme with all of the NAK’TURN sites, which are all being incorporated under the header of nocturnum instead.

Anyway, I’m babbling now and need sleep. You’ll see updates to this, I am sure.

Gogol Bordello. The name itself, in the punk rock community, has come to be synonymous with frenzy, otherworldly roots, thunderous shows, and a message of revolution in amongst all the complainers. Everyone who finds themselves attending a Gogol Bordello show will be struck dumb by the amount of energy, both onstage in the band and rampant through the crowd, which is likened to a rush of adrenaline that simply has a life of its own. It is safe to say that Gogol Bordello ought to be on every list, ever made, of “bands to see before you die”; to miss such a performance is, while not unforgivable, definitely saddening, as one will probably never see so much zest in any other musical collective.

This show, at the Fillmore, was my fifth time seeing Gogol Bordello, and third time seeing them as a headliner instead of an opening band. It was also the first show to introduce the freshest additions to their song catalog, care of the new album, Super Taranta!, which was released in early July. To say that I was in rampant anticipation of this show does not do it justice; it’s been the one show I’ve literally waited for all year, after seeing them with a short, wild set when they opened for Primus in December of 2006. This marked one of their biggest appearances to date — even though they performed in early 2006 at the Warfield, with Cake, their following was not nearly as large as it was tonight, when the crowd poured into the sold-out Fillmore auditorium at the end of this warm August day.
The crowd was first greeted by a darkened stage, manned by one DJ Scratchy, a character who, despite having impressive taste in bands that spanned across Eastern Europe, Asia, and most of Central and South America, was somewhat lackluster as a performer. Having seen professional DJs in numerous shows, I can tell that it doesn’t require a huge degree of concentration and skill to simply flip between CDs, with maybe a few fancy wah effects thrown in from time to time. As previously stated, however, the breadth of his collection was enough to make up for the simplicity of his performance. It was only moments after his departure that the lights began to dim. The moment was at hand!

A torrential roar of cheers overcame the audience as their gypsy punk heroes took the stage. Emerging with his eyes gleaming wildly, singer Eugene Hutz deftly swung his guitar around his back, already thrashing about as the band opened with “Ultimate”, the first explosive piece from the aforementioned Super Taranta!. The crowd was brought to a moshing, slamdancing, bouncing state of hyperactive mania as a massive yellow banner, bearing the band’s signature symbol — a slingshot firing a shining star, with the words “GYPSY PUNKS” emblazoned beneath — unfurled itself at the back of the stage. It was probably less than a minute before the entire auditorium was alive with a violent fervor, with Hutz throwing himself across the stage in a riotous frenzy while the rest of the band raced back and forth around him, instruments being played with a fevered level of energy. In addition to the chaos onstage, the dancefloor had come alive with a furious concentration of energy that ricocheted from person to person, so the massive audience moved as one entity, delirious with its love of the thunderous music.
Old, screaming favorites, as well as surprisingly reworked new live pieces, peppered the eclectic set, which continued nearly nonstop through 10 songs before returning to the three main favorites from the band’s most previous effort, 2005’s Gypsy Punks: Underdog World Strike. “60 Revolutions” brought the crowd, and band, to their fastest thrashings seen thus far that night, and “Start Wearing Purple”, the group’s most well-known work, got the biggest response of the entire night, with numerous punkers scrambling to scream the chorus into Hutz’s outstretched mic stand.

“Think Locally, Fuck Globally” ended the first part of the set with even more insane antics, as Hutz slammed a giant red metal bucket, labeled “FIRE” on the side, onto his microphone, before rattling on it furiously in a jackhammer-paced drumbeat, while two gypsy girls, armed with cymbals and a huge bass drum, flew about the stage. Not to be outdone by any other recent arrivals to the Fillmore, the band continued their show with two encores of three songs apiece, including a solemn, solo acoustic performance of the forlorn ballad “Alcohol”, and — the final highlight of every Gogol Bordello show — a maddeningly dynamite, ever-continuing performance of “Baro Foro”, punctuated with a few of the band members throwing themselves into the churning crowd as Hutz continued to kill himself onstage, his frenzied spirit never even seeming to flicker.
If you want to be part of a show that has an almost limitless capacity for living, breathing, surging, adrenaline-bleeding energy, there is no better show to see than Gogol Bordello. This show was easily their best, of all the ones that I have seen; the entire band was full of energy (though Hutz alone could easily surpass the rest of them over the course of a set), and as headliners, they were allowed much more liberty to take their performance to newer, higher levels of zest and wildfire. This is one band that I will continue to see, no matter how often they come to visit us, until the day I die.

As a long time fan of the Smashing Pumpkins, to say that I was excited to see them for part of their extended vacation at the Fillmore in San Francisco does not even do the slightest bit of justice to the statement. This was a band that I have drawn so much artistic and personal connection with that I cannot even begin to name everything I constantly associate with them; therefore, the opportunity to go to three — THREE — of the shows in their 11-gig stay was truly mindboggling. This essay will chronicle the first of the shows that I went to, as I fully believe that nothing will ever be like my first (finally!) Pumpkins show.

First of all, the extremely elaborate stage setup must be fully explained before the show can even begin to be described — I have never seen a Fillmore setup like this. Metal scaffolding and steel girders crafted a massive futuristic skeleton shell over the stage, covering so much of it that, when the lights were off, you truly felt like you were being taken to another world to watch the bands perform. Speaking of lights: those that adorned the structure — en masse, I might add — not only gave ample spotlight coverage for nearly all of the stage, but there was complex fluorescent tubing covering three long sections across the main metal backdrop. As we discovered when the Pumpkins took the stage, this wasn’t just a neon net of color; the lights actually acted as segments in a massive projector, very similar to the light-infested “metal curtain” that Nine Inch Nails used at the end of their last tour.

The opening band, Bellingham, Washington’s own Idiot Pilot, crept onto the stage at about 9pm, looking like a crew of indie kids that were slightly confused about opening for one of the biggest rock behemoths of the last decade. Appearances, of course, are extremely deceiving; this was no exception, as within seconds of the first drum kick, the two guitarists suddenly blasted across both ends of the stage like a pair of violently-repellent magnets, axes being flung around wildly as the drummer exploded into a furiously loud burst of sound. The song continued to find both guitarists (the bass is handled on a small iMac that sat plugged into a Moog synthesizer, as is a full backtrack and sample set for each song) artfully flailing around the stage, never missing a note in their chaotic routine. Idiot Pilot seemed to sit in my mind as Radiohead in their early days, with some extreme leanings to the non-sucking screamo scene — the two guitarists traded vocal duties between a morose crooner and an acid-tongued shrieker as they ripped through their short set, never falling in their energy by a single ounce.

As was proved soon after, however, sometimes spastic hardcore rocking-out will still never replace a band with an already-established onstage austerity, in terms of the crowd’s reaction. The Pumpkins’ entrance was borderline epic with the thunderous crescendo of a menacing atmospheric introduction, and within seconds of assuming control of the stage, guitarist Billy Corgan and drummer Jimmy Chamberlain hit home with a sonic boom of guitar/bass drum double whammy — the force and volume of the first notes actually pushed a few folks in the audience back.

As if full of insects struggling to escape their fluorescent bonds, the entire stage came to life in an ocean of seizure-inducing strobes, cascades of colorful spotlights, and the massive tube-light ceiling waking up for the first time. Within seconds, the stage was covered with positively thousands of movements per second, the air above the crowd brought to life by color and shadow. Yet for all the visual calamity that had overrun their stage, the Pumpkins remained remarkably calm, and after a thunderous introduction, they immediately tore into “Doomsday Clock”, one of the first cuts off of their new release, Zeitgeist, that they would play over the course of their three-hour-long set.

As they have been following so far, the Pumpkins’ set had four main elements — albeit spread out in a beautiful mishmash through the set — in terms of the song catalog. These are mostly comprised of old-time favorites (“Tonight, Tonight”, “To Sheila”, and “Bullet With Butterfly Wings”, to name a few), new Zeitgeist cuts (including an epic, 20-minute performance of “United States” that included Billy’s freshly-trademarked whales-on-acid guitar solo); rare treats for hardcore fans (especially the solo acoustic performance of “Daydream” from their first album, Gish, which had originally been recorded with former bassist D’arcy Wretsky on vocals); and brand new pieces, just created during the tour (tonight, it was a solo piece for acoustic guitar and harmonica, which Billy obnoxiously referred to as “Peace and love and all that other shit”). The songs came somewhat in blocks, but spread out, so that no one got disinterested in what surprises were still to come.

Closing the set was the massive Pumpkins epic, “Gossamer”, another recently-written piece that didn’t make it onto Zeitgeist. After experiencing this, I can definitely pick out both of the reasons that it wasn’t put on: it’s too long (this particular performance clocked in at 25 minutes) and it is simply too stunning to see live; a studio cut would never do it justice. Marked by dense guitar passages, plus two fantastic solos from drummer Jimmy and new keyboardist Lisa Harriton (for this song, it was an organ instead of a keyboard), the song simply overpowered the entire show in its ferocity and epic nature. A short encore followed, the band returning to the stage to play one final fan favorite - “Today”.

So despite the band not being truly comprised of the original Pumpkins anymore, did that affect the way I received the show? Not in the slightest bit. This show was borderline synesthesia, with the intensity of the light show and the solid, rampaging solos of the band. Billy took a few moments out to talk to the fine folks of San Francisco and offer out his love to the city, even if it hadn’t been too nice to him; I even met him after the show and was pleased to learn more about the music video for their latest single, “Tarantula”, in the subsequent conversation. This was the first show to finally connect me to the band that had been such an extreme passion of mine in my college years; I can only imagine what the other two will be like.