It was the “Heavy Metal Bangers” festival and on stage Viúva Negra was doing a soundcheck with “Symptom Of The Universe” by Black Sabbath
By Ricardo Batalha (*)
I was so obsessed with Heavy Metal and so thirsty for new music that when I went to play basketball on weekend afternoons, I would go so far as to take my Broksonic Walkman with me so I could quickly get out of the locker room and tune in to Metal radio programs to record them. I can remember the feeling and the exact moment when I first heard Tank's then-new song, "The War Drags Ever On," a track from the album "Honour & Blood" (1984). Those who live in the streaming music era have no idea of the crazy things fans did to discover new bands.
My "addiction" was so strong that I would take blank cassette tapes and record programs to listen to the new ones later. And I did this all the time, even when I was inside the Morumbi stadium, watching São Paulo games. A fan nudged me once, asking: "What's the score of the Palmeiras game in the South?". I couldn't say, because I wasn't tuned to Jovem Pan AM, still with the narrator José Silvério, but listening to and recording Heavy Metal. Despite having had the best teacher in this subject, Walcir Chalas, I discovered several bands because of radio programs. My brother, Frederico, was amazed by my addiction to music. "Even here in Morumbi?" Yes, it was. "Metal forever," as Jack Santiago, former vocalist of Harppia, says. Apart from that, I never liked listening to Roberto Carlos or Samba during halftime at the stadium that had hosted Queen and Kiss concerts – thankfully, now it's Rock thanks to Rogério Ceni and Andreas Kisser's (Sepultura) cover of the national anthem!
We became the “dangerous ones,” the “damned ones,” the “enemies,” but this exposure also made many others embrace Metal in their hearts
At the club I was playing for in the mid-80s, besides the friendships I made with some other players and members who enjoyed and consumed Heavy Metal, I was lucky enough to attend a festival organized by the independent record label Baratos Afins at Paineiras do Morumby on March 23, 1985. I was fourteen years old and, that year, fans of heavy music – still called “Rock Pauleira” – were euphoric, as the first edition of the “Rock In Rio” festival had taken place months earlier, in January. There was great prominence given to Heavy Metal and Hard Rock bands, the so-called “enemies of New Wave” or the favorites of “metalheads,” as Rede Globo insisted. We became the “dangerous ones,” the “damned ones,” the “enemies,” but this exposure also led many to embrace Metal – Accept’s “Metal Heart” came out in 1985. The initial push came earlier, during Kiss’s tour in Brazil, but “Rock In Rio” was fundamental for the expansion of heavy music here.
Brazilian bands were seeking their place, and I followed them. I was never one to just enjoy things at home. I went because I liked the sound, the music, and I wanted to experience everything. I'm always grateful to Luiz Carlos Calanca, from Baratos Afins, one of the first record stores in Galeria do Rock, for believing in Brazilian Heavy Metal. I proudly bought the first edition of the compilation "SP Metal," released in 1984. I even got a button!
On the other hand, what was happening in the more glamorous Brazilian rock scene couldn't even be called competition. There were the pioneering heavy rock bands, as well as heavy metal, punk rock, or the so-called "underground" bands, such as Fellini, Cabine C, Voluntários da Pátria, Akira S, and Smack. Well-supported by the media, these Brazilian rock bands had their work released by major record labels and, consequently, enjoyed enormous popular and media acclaim. Just to give you an idea, on that same day in March 1985, the Ibirapuera Gymnasium hosted the "California Rock Concert." The event, which had all tickets sold in advance, brought together Ultraje A Rigor, Lobão e os Ronaldos, Lulu Santos, Paralamas do Sucesso, and Caetano Veloso. But I was somewhere else. And without any pomp, as was customary at metal shows.
I started hearing, from a distance, the distinctive sound of a band doing a soundcheck and preparing their equipment for a show…”
I remember arriving at the Paineiras club that Saturday morning, not noticing anything unusual, and I went down to the gym. We were facing the always strong EC São Bernardo team. We gave it our all, but we left the court defeated and went to the gym's locker room where we literally got a cold shower. Then, as I was putting on my club tracksuit, I started hearing, from a distance, the characteristic sound of a band doing a soundcheck and preparing their equipment for a show. Bass drums pounding repeatedly, echoes of distorted guitar, people saying those usual words – “test, one, two, three, test”. I skipped the lunch voucher we got, win or lose, and ran upstairs to see what was happening in the club's hall. The music always spoke louder.
Upon arriving, still wearing my team's burgundy uniform, I managed to enter the main hall without major problems with the security guards. Not even the most truculent and unprepared guard, something commonplace at that time, would have asked me if I was indeed a club member while wearing that tracksuit. Moments later, I was astonished to see all the activity. "What do you mean, a Lira Paulistana at the club where I play?", I thought to myself, remembering the place that hosted several shows at the time – the first Viper concert, in yet another of Celso Barbieri's projects, took place there a little less than a month later, on April 8th.
Even though I was embarrassed for not wearing my heavy metal attire, with jeans, patches, and band buttons, I had yet another commitment to heavy metal
I immediately started asking for information and discovered that the program would feature bands like Korzus, Vírus, Performances, Viúva Negra, Improviso, and Veneno Negro. It was the “Heavy Metal Bangers” festival, and on stage, Viúva Negra was doing a soundcheck with “Symptom Of The Universe” by Black Sabbath. For someone who frequented Praça do Rock, at the bandstand in Parque da Aclimação, and had already seen several “SP Metal” bands in action, feeling that concert atmosphere in the club's main hall, noticing that the space had momentarily become a Sesc Pompéia, seemed almost like a miracle. I stood there, frozen, staring at the stage as if the world had stopped. I remembered the shows I had seen by Centúrias, A Chave do Sol, Salário Mínimo, Abutre, Avenger, Ano Luz, Mammoth, Harppia, Anthro, Lixo de Luxo, Gozometal, and so many others. I may have lost the game on the court that Saturday, but I won much more in the hall.
I quickly left and went to tell my father that I could no longer leave the club at the agreed time, asking them to pick me up only after nine o'clock at night. I wasn't wearing my worn-out leather jacket, but that was okay. Even though I was embarrassed for not wearing my Heavy Metal attire, with jeans, patches, and buttons of bands I liked, I had one more commitment to Heavy Metal. Now, thirty years later, I'm still focused, hooked, and living the "SP Metal" experience.
(*) Ricardo Batalha is editor-in-chief of Roadie Crew magazine (roadiecrew.com) and director of ASE Assessoria e Consultoria (asepress.com.br).
Recommended views:
Korzus – Warriors of Metal (SP Metal 2):
Vulture – When the fire starts to burn :
(*) Ricardo Batalha is the editor-in-chief of Roadie Crew and director of ASE Assessoria e Consultoria..
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