These are some reviews and interviews from zines, websites, ect.
The airwaves of current mainstream radio are permeated with the strains of heaviness. A rebirth of hard music has led to the creation, and success, of many new riff chunking, pain-screaming bands. Papa Roach sings of life “falling to pieces”, while Limp Bizkit tells us what we can do with that cookie. Korn, one of the original bands in this reincarnation of heavy, is still touring eight years after it hit the scene, which is a record with most of the fly-by-night groups that make up the mainstream. Creed, with its blend of melodic overtones and low end, grinding progressions, dominates the charts with “Higher”, and the new movie Dracula 2000 features two survivors from the old school of metal, Pantera and Slayer, on its soundtrack, along with many capable new-schoolers. On MTV, on the radio, and in the stores, it’s go heavy or go home.
Welcome to Statesboro, population: lost. With 5 viable venues – Blind Willy’s, The Mellow Mushroom, Archibald’s, Cavalier’s, and Horizons – Only Horizons regularly features anything but Hippy rock. In the ‘Boro, the only roach you’ll hear about on the live music scene is the one the lead guitarist burnt before the show. As for biscuits and corn, they only serve to satisfy the munchies. Higher? You bet your bell-bottoms. For the practitioner of the heavier musical arts, Statesboro is a desert. Why, when the world is screaming for lead-weighted songs and stomp-groove choruses, is the ‘Boro stuck in Woodstock?
“It’s just too loud,” quips Mellow Mushroom owner Hilton Johnson. His bar by itself is responsible for keeping alive at least half of the dozen Widespread Panic clones that call Statesboro home. His response exemplifies the feelings of a majority of the bar owners. If the music isn’t conducive to conversation, then they can’t peddle overpriced beer and weak liquor drinks to the burnouts discussing the new Phish bootleg.
Horizons, proud sponsor of mayhem-driven music since 1999, when Blind Willy’s lost its spot as the top heavy venue, is doing its best to introduce a little culture to the hemp-brained and the tie-dyed. Tony Fountain, deejay and booking agent for the bar, does his best to keep the calendar padded with such acts as Silent Decree, a local Christian band, and Pig Equals Donut, a band out of Cochran. He also works with the group Snatch, which a Savannah paper has termed, “The heaviest band in Statesboro.” The band’s singer, Darrel Richards, is a promoter himself. He had a big hand in the A.U.R.A. Fest that took place January 27th.
A.U.R.A. is an annual festival that showcases bands that perform heavier styles of music. This year marks the third, and largest, incarnation of the festival. With 13 bands, two of which were Pig Equals Donut and Snatch, the festival lasted from 11 a.m. until midnight. The attendance and energy level were through the roof. At $8 a head cover, everybody made his fair share of profit. Pig averaged $75 a member. The crowd was diverse, ranging from new school (green hair and baggy jeans) to old school (combat boots and leather), with a few ravers and average Joes thrown in the mix. Parallel this to the average crowd at a hippy show, and the figures are much better as far as numbers and diversity. And, as an added plus, no Hippy funk.
The crowds at A.U.R.A. were starving for the pumping rhythms of the hardcore grinders taking the stage. I myself only made it in at 2 p.m. to see Pig, but the view of the rabid crowd I received upon arrival was enough for me to judge the show a success. Clift, the guitarist for Pig, is a six-foot tall, hulking mass of energy with hair to his waist and a laugh like an eight-year-old looking for something to break. When he plugs in, he is in his zone, and Clift loves his zone. As he puts it, it’s the only time during the week that “I can do whatever I want and not get in trouble for it,” and he makes the most of it. As Pig cranks up, so does Clift. Hair flying, he rips into the frenzied passages that put the crowd into motion and powers the two singers, Eric and Joey, into action. They compliment each other with a series of venomous lyrics, grunts, growls, and howls that surge through Clift’s wall of tone as the bassist, Heath, pours forth a tide of low-end. Underneath it all, the replacement drummer Chris, a manic in his own right, pounds his set to give the madness method.
A metal crowd set in motion is a wonderful thing. It has always been my belief that a mosh pit is a creation of terrible beauty, much more of a force of nature than an expression of dance. The pit in front of the Pig stage develops much like a rose coming to bloom, beginning in the center with a small swirl of motion, then rapidly spiraling out to encompass the entire floor. Rage and delight, both fed by the band’s intensity, rule the crowd.
Now, let’s look at the Hippie’s again.
“Dude, do you think that Panic’ll play “Wrangler” this year?” Patchouli Girl drawls over her beer. “No way, man,” responds Hemp Boy. “They just played it last year. J.B.’s got standards.” All the while, a poorly rendered Grateful Dead rip-off band drones on in the background. Back to the pit.
By now, Pig is 15 minutes into the set and is on the third song. Clift’s hair keeps getting caught in his strings as he rips clumps of it from his scalp. He doesn’t care...he just came to play. The crowd has been whipped into a full frenzy, and the only safe havens are at the bar or to the sides of the walls. Joey dives into the audience, bouncing off of a mosher who towers over him twice over. The swirl and sway of the pit send him back to the stage in time for him to finish the song. The love in the room is outstanding.
Pig Equals Donut commands the stage for another 20 minutes, and then their set is up. Clift is still pumped, and is badgering the bar owner for another set. The other members begin discussing a late lunch.... it’s hungry work being evil. They decide on the Mellow Mushroom. Hippies beware.
“I’m outta hear,” murmurs Darrel later in the evening. It’s late afternoon, a while before Snatch, his band, goes on, and Clift has drawn him into talking about next year. Darrel is planning on moving to Savannah and opening a club that features live music, mostly Hardcore and Blues-Rock. Suddenly, the skinny teenage brother of Pig singer Eric runs between us screaming. He speeds up the five-foot-high wheelchair ramp that leads into the dining area of Horizons, startling two young women so badly that one of them drops her beer, and flops over the guard rail into the shrubbery. Darrel shakes his green dread-locked head and laughs. This is the scene, and the energy level carries out into the parking lot. Long live the scene.
By the end of the night, Horizons has seen more madness than your average padded room. Everyone is drained, sweating, and extremely happy. In the afterglow, we find the marquis changed from “AURA FEST ALL DAY” to “ANAL DAY”, with some the younger bystanders pointing and laughing. Hey, it’s pretty dumb, but it’s a small price to pay to keep it all going.
Sadly, the A.U.R.A. fest is a rare occasion here in the ‘Boro, as most venues frown on the heavier vein of music. The problem is not the venues, however; fault lies with the people in the scene. Being in a local heavy band, I can attest to a lack of communication between groups in the scene. Unity is the only way to get our music promoted. The fear that money will be lost is invalid, if the bands will only come together and support each other by coming to shows and telling others about them. The conversation aspect of the bar scene I see like this: You don’t go to see a live band just to talk to the same people you see everyday, you go for the music. Maybe if we bring the metal heads together, and get the Hippies to stop running their mouths, we can get this Time-Warped Town into the ‘90’s. - Robert Kelly
PIG=DONUT
"This shit is heavy! That's probably one of the best ways for me to describe it. The guitarist, Clift has some great guitar licks and the bassist, Heath has some pretty tight riffs too. Having two really good lead singers (Eric and Joey) makes this band all the more heavy. If you like anything heavy, you'll like these guys,I guarentee it." - Brent Hopkins, Hoamtown Productions
"Among the stately magnolia trees, underneath the moody light cascading form the campus's antique-style street lights, and in the warm wash of the setting sun, strange music and seemingly tribal drum beats poured from the open doors of the Russell Hall Auditorium. Showing some of the most unique musical talent in the state was the headlining act of the odd named Pig=Donut. The metal band composed of two vocalists, a guitarist, a bassist, and a drummer urged the more than willing audience for participation in the show by inviting everyone on stage." - John Hinson, Bleckley County News
