The Rock Hall Triumph of Judas Priest

"We don't accept defeat, we never will retreat..." - "Freewheel Burning"

Tough as leather, armed with a steely resolve, and road warriors to this day, Judas Priest finally enters the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame this Saturday, November 5. It's a triumph for these metal gods, and for the heavy metal faithful across the globe. 

It's also an exceptionally overdue honor, and one that unfortunately required special intervention by the Hall to even happen. Judas Priest, upon their third nomination this year, still didn't earn enough votes from the official Rock Hall votership to be counted among the Class of 2022's seven "Performer" honorees (Pat Benatar & Neil Giraldo, Duran Duran, Eminem, Eurythmics, Dolly Parton, Lionel Richie, and Carly Simon). As a result, they are being given the Award for Musical Excellence.  

Ian Hill, Glenn Tipton, Rob Halford, K.K. Downing, Les Binks

Ultimately, the Hall arrived at a solution. Some observers are OK with it, some are not. But the institution had to take action. How could they continue to snub Judas Priest, arguably the second-most significant metal band after Black Sabbath? If Hall voters continue to reject this genre (Iron Maiden was on the ballot last year, another swing and a miss!), measures need to be taken. Maybe it's not perfect, but as Winston Churchill once said, perfection is the enemy of progress.

In many ways, this "other" honor is quite appropriate, and one truly hopes the Priest camp fully embraces and understands it. These guys wear their outsider status on their studded sleeves, and have soldiered through their career on their own terms. They are the embodiment of heavy metal, which is not a path for the faint of heart — these guys had to have wanted it. Officially formed in 1969, with their debut LP Rocka Rolla released in 1974, the group has overcome daunting challenges: label woes; personnel changes; world tours; a 1990 court trial where they were accused of putting subliminal messages in their music; and Rob Halford's difficult decision, as a gay man, to stay in the closet during Priest's most successful years (he came out in 1998). More recently, guitarist Glenn Tipton was diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease in 2018, leaving him unable to perform full shows, though he still performs encores with his mates, and will fortunately be present at this week's ceremony. Despite everything, Priest have delivered on their vision for over 50 years, making thunderous, exhilarating music for hardcore fans and mainstream rock audiences alike. 

Musical excellence? They've excelled indeed, from the sonorous vocals and haunting riffs of "Victim of Changes" to the revving, concussive "Hell Bent for Leather" to radio/MTV hits like "Breaking the Law" and "You've Got Another Thing Coming." On 1990's Painkiller album, they pushed the limits of speed and thrash metal to gloriously punishing effect. And these high points are just the tip of the iceberg — at 18 studio albums, the Priest discography is rewarding and vast, with 2018's Firepower earning rave reviews as a thrilling return to form. A new album is due in 2023.

Priest's induction feels rather special; there's a definite "triumph of the underdog" narrative here for both the band and its disciples. Suddenly, a worldwide community of marginalized metal believers, angry with the Hall for years about this snub, finally feel seen. For generations of lost souls and high school rebels, Priest has been a sanctuary. Their music is a rite of passage, sure, but it's also a lifelong companion. 

Judas Priest represents so much. They are the smoking kids on the corner outside your high school. They are every Eddie Munson with a Dio backpatch. They are the rowdy denizens of heavy metal parking lots where zebra-striped shirts get soaked with beer and sweat. They are the sound of a teenager's bedroom door slamming after a fight with a parent. They are a backwoods kegger, where bonfires rage and bad choices are made. They have been there, reliably, to offer their faithful catharsis, community, and the credo "One life, I'm gonna live it up." And that's why they belong in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, by any means necessary. 

Further Reading: Why Judas Priest Belongs in the Rock Hall

We Are the Robots

Kraftwerk 3-D
Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall

July 8, 2022

Why are we here? What is our purpose? Is life a dream or an elaborate, predetermined program? Are we more machines than man now? Perhaps it's best to let German robots explain all this.

Those are heavy questions, of course. And while witness accounts of Kraftwerk 3-D may vary, this multimedia presentation seemed intent on exploring universal truths and the challenges of modern human existence. 

Lest you think this whole enterprise sounds uncomfortable — and that, by the end, you'd be imploring HAL 9000 to open the pod bay doors — it was quite the opposite. By way of introduction, the talent onstage is founding Kraftwerk member Ralf Hütter (age 75), along with Henning Schmitz, Fritz Hilpert, and Falk Grieffenhagen. Wearing neon-lined body suits redolent of the movie "Tron," they manned individual, rectangular podiums while an unrelenting spectacle of 3-D-enhanced video played on a giant screen behind them. UFOs violated your airspace, protruding satellite antennas made you duck, sound waves bounced, 8-bit cars sped down the Autobahn. It was a technicolor feast for the eyes, but the subversive Kraftwerk ethos still burrowed into the psyche, going past the optic nerves and straight into the hippocampus and beyond. 

The best concert experiences draw you in, and deliver something unexpected. This futuristic extravaganza certainly did that. Just as the 3-D screen lent a sense of space and depth, the seemingly basic subject matter of songs like "Numbers," "Home Computer" and "Airwaves" blossomed into thought-provoking performance pieces. On a similar note, "Autobahn," "Tour de France" and "Trans-Europe Express" evoked forward movement and human progress, but given our recent history, one could not help but think of another band's theory of de-evolution.

Underneath Kraftwerk's beeps, circular rhythms and cyborgian vocals lies a key question: What happens at the intersection of man and machine? On this night, many answers were possible. "Computer Love," with its lyrics, "I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do/I need a rendezvous, I need a rendezvous" suggests a lot about how people connect in the modern age (and it's quite prescient for a song released in 1981). Elsewhere, the folly of man/machine was laid bare on "Radioactivity," as it called out nuclear-scarred cities and displayed radiation warning symbols onscreen. 

Sobering nuclear outcomes aside, a rapt audience nonetheless sat with cardboard 3-D glasses on their faces while Hütter and crew — relying not only on substance, but resplendent, colorful style — reasserted Kraftwerk's innovation and immeasurable influence. Some of the haunting textures from "The Model" echoed goth-rock, one of many genres Hütter, Florian Schneider, Wolfgang Flür, and Karl Bartos either nudged along or made possible. At other points of the show, robot voices confirmed that things like Auto-Tune and Daft Punk were beamed down from the Kraftwerk mothership. Of course, any musician that ever touched a synthesizer or drum machine after 1970 can thank this quartet. Synth-pop, New Wave, Neue Deutsche Welle, disco, industrial, hip-hop, techno, and a legion of pop and rock acts are all branches of the Kraftwerk tree. 

Masquerading as automatons, the original lineup of Kraftwerk gave their fans much to contemplate around identity and purpose. On this night, the tradition was continued by four men that, for all their amusing stoicism, were still recognizable as living beings. But in a chilling bit of future shock during "Robotronik," four actual robots danced onstage, without a human in sight. It was turbulent and purposeful: a synthetic, sensory-overloading tableau that rattled the cages of our 21st-century souls. It was artificial intelligence reminding us to be human.

Indie Rock (and Cuervo) Gold

Guided by Voices

Revolution Hall - Portland, OR

March 27, 2022

"Who do you think you are, Jethro Tull?" 

This snarky inquiry wasn't from a heckling audience member, but rather, a smiling, self-aware Bob Pollard after a rendition of "Moses on a Snail," a proggy number that culminated in ascendant riffing that found the singer slowly raising his arms and hands in religious fervor. The next logical step might have been speaking in tongues, but fear not, infidels: Uncle Bob picked up his Miller Lite, took a swig and got on with other sacred business.

This Guided by Voices phenomenon is remarkable, and it endures. But what does one make of these Dayton, Ohio indie rock kings in 2022? They're 39 years into their inspirational story, with nearly as many lineup changes, albums and songs as beers consumed onstage. The center of the GBV universe, of course, is Robert Pollard, a former schoolteacher whose unlikely "parachutist into a boxing ring"-level party-crash of the indie rock world in the '90s still feels like a miracle. And there are fewer more reassuring sights than this fully-invested bon vivant joyfully kicking his leg backward, twirling his mic, and doing his signature high kick when his band launches into yet another irresistible anthem. Pollard is white-haired and 64 years old, but time has not diminished him.

Pollard, March and Gillard

When it comes to choosing songs, where does Guided by Voices even start? Pollard and company are on the road, theoretically supporting their 35th album Crystal Nuns Cathedral, but since it's their sixth album since 2020, there's an always-swelling pile of tunes to craft a setlist from (seriously, there are thousands). "Prolific" is the word that is most often attached to Pollard, and justifiably: By his own admission on this night, he's put out 117 albums, if you count GBV and all his solo and side projects. The task of putting together a setlist is enough to drive a bandleader to drink. Luckily, provisions were acquired, and as usual, a cooler sat onstage, and Captain Pollard fished a bottle of Cuervo Gold and endless beers from it. 

Whatever the setlist yields, though, this band's barley soda-guzzling cult is down for whatever, and ready to sing along. The 49 riff-heavy tunes GBV cranked out at Revolution Hall in Portland (a converted high school auditorium) kept spirits high, and the "G-B-V!" chant inevitably made its appearance a few songs in. And the thrill of surprise — for those avoiding the spoilers of previous tour stop setlists, anyway — was very much in effect. For every predictable, "they can't leave without playing that" selection like "Motor Away," "Echoes Myron" or "Game of Pricks," there were plenty of recent tunes and tasteful picks from the GBV/solo Bob repertoires: "Climbing a Ramp" (from 2022's Crystal Nuns Cathedral), "The Disconnected Citizen" (from 2021's Earth Man Blues), "King 007" (from 2017's How Do You Spell Heaven) and "Love is Stronger Than Witchcraft" (from Pollard's 2006 solo LP From a Compound Eye).

There was a welcome middle ground, too, as the less familiar (i.e. newer) tracks were offset by standout gems from across the colossal GBV songbook, including "Your Name is Wild," "Back to the Lake," "I Am a Tree," and "My Kind of Soldier." There is a copious amount of musical gold to dig for in this catalog, of course. But not everything worked: The harmonies on the reflective "Twilight Campfighter" were sloppy compared to the slick studio version (that is just a tough tune to improve live), while "Man Called Blunder" was a case study in the sometimes plodding, mid-set lull that naturally happens during a two and a half-hour show. 

Overall, though, these guys came to play. Having witnessed this band in action since the year 2000, there's no question of its evolution — there is now a sharpness, a rhythmic complexity, and subtle prog-rock elements dovetailing nicely with the power chords and power pop, lifting Guided by Voices to a higher echelon artistically. Many moments of this performance legitimately felt like "next-level GBV." The chemistry and enthusiasm onstage was evident, and one imagines Pollard is thrilled to have a steady, consistent lineup of GBV to go out there with. Axeman Bobby Bare, Jr., bassist Mark Shue, and GBV vets Kevin March (drums) and sharp-shooting guitarist Doug Gillard rocked an array of material in winning fashion. Additionally, it was charming to see Pollard act paternal with the youthful Shue, calling him "Colonel Whitepants" due to his stage attire. 

On a similar note, Pollard's self-deprecating stage banter is a hilarious aspect of any of his gigs; tonight he lamented that the pop act Fine Young Cannibals (!) was somehow a bigger band than GBV (he even sarcastically sung a line from FYC's biggest hit: "She drives me crazy!" to which the audience automatically lobbed the song's "whoo! whoo!" back at him). However, Pollard, seeing the beer bottle as half full, did remind the crowd that Fine Young Cannibals don't have a song as great as the next one GBV was about to play — "Smothered in Hugs." Fair enough, Bob... we can examine that Jethro Tull comparison another day.