Every day is a good day for beer. (Especially today.)

You know your day is off to a good start when you come to work and four bombers of quality craft brew are sitting in your chair.  Not a whole lot matters after that, because obviously the Beer Fairy is in town.  Or just a grateful/awesome coworker.  (The Beer Fairy should totally be a real thing, though.)  Now, I consider myself a polite southerner, and I'm not going to diss on any free beer given to me, and fortunately I don't have to, because free beer is one thing, but between two Dogfish Heads (Black & Blue and Chateau Jiahu), a Weyerbacher anniversary concoction (knowing Weyerbacher, it's probably stacked to death with hops, and I am ok with this) and Bear Republic Hot Rod Rye, I doubt there's a bad one in the bunch.  We shall see.

The only thing that could top that would possibly be an after-work jaunt to Sam's Quick Shop, so that's exactly what I did, naturally.  I was happy to find another Dogfish Head limited release - Immort Ale (see what they did there?) and Sweetwater's Road Trip.  Read this blog enough and I'm sure you'll catch me singing multiple praises for both of these breweries before too long.

But for now, I figured as long as I'm typing sentences about beer, they might as well be about the beer I'm actually drinking.

Coney Island Albino Python - Shmaltz Brewing Co.

The same geniuses that bring you the "chosen beers" from He'Brew also provide a selection of decidedly delicious beers with decidedly creepy carnival vibe.  And while every beer of theirs I've come across has been excellent, their mascot... Well, here:



I know, right?  I apologize for showing you that, because he'll haunt your dreams, but fortunately he's on another bottle.  The one I'm concerned about is much less offensive (unless you're one of those feminist types or whatever...)



The labels may be creepy, but the beer most definitely is not.  This particular brew is a white lager brewed with spices, and while that's an appropriate description, I find myself enjoying this more than most white beers, or beers with spices.  (Screw you, Blue Moon, I know you're made by Coors!) So many of these tend to be a bit too spicy, or too fruity, or just too wheaty to have anything really interesting going on.  Not the python, though.

It pours a beautiful light orange/amber, darker than most, with the requisite yeasty particulates.  Be warned though, my bomber practically exploded when I opened it - it took awhile for the foam to go down, but once it did, there was a nice thin line that held up for almost the entire time.  The minor explosion was probably my own fault for keeping it in a too-cold fridge, so I wouldn't worry too much about that.  But like real pythons, it was when this bad boy got a little warmed up it's character really came out.

The python's nose is fruity, as one would expect from the style.  Mostly orange, but the aforementioned spices come through as well - I detected cinnamon, and also some ginger, which may sound weird, but don't knock it until you try it.  Every beer I've had that included ginger in some form has been out of this world - it's a growing trend in craft brewing that I am absolutely a fan of.

But what of the actual taste?  This is where the python shines.  Where I find fault with so many hefes, this beer succeeds admirably - namely, everything about it is balanced and subtle without being boring, and the light hint of spice lingers throughout.  As with most lagers, there's almost no hop character to be found, which works for me for this style.  There's enough going on in this beer that it's completely unnecessary. There's a hint of orange at the start that fades to a slight cinnamon/ginger/coriander aftertaste that speaks up just enough to be noticed and says "hey, have another sip."  So I did.  And again, and again, and so on.

All in all, a very drinkable beer.  It's interesting enough for one to sit up and take notice, but not complex enough to limit repeat pints.  A well-built beer that would definitely be easy to drink more than one of on a hot summer day.  Or a chilly spring day, like today.  Or any day, really.

This beer is awesome, go drink some.

Disappointment, thy name is Mastodon.

Ok, that's not 100% true, but maybe it got your attention.  Truth is, as talented as Mastodon is, and as good as they were Saturday night at the Lincoln Theatre, it would be impossible for me to wax ineloquent about the show without mentioning the disappointment that's lingered since.  First the good, though.


Between the Buried and me was also there, and while they don't have the stage presence of a band like Mastodon, the singer can actually sing. So they have that going for them, which is good when your goal in life is to be Dream Theater, only heavier. (Note: this is an awesome goal and I fully support it.)

And of course I would be remiss if I didn't mention the Pure Awesome Fury that is Valient Thor.  They are from Venus and will murder you to death by partying, and you'll love it.  If you don't like this band I feel sorry for you, truly. If you see them live and don't come away smiling, then you, sir or madam, take yourself way too seriously.  I'm not sure I want to be your friend, actually. With a lead singer that is a giant, shirtless, red beast of a man with a look and demeanor that speaks to some unholy combination of Zach Galifianakis and David Lee Roth, and actual musical chops to back it up, these guys party harder than Andrew W. K. Yeah, that hard.

Which brings me to the headliners.  Mastodon is an incredibly talented and very likeable band.  I have yet to introduce them to anyone who dislikes them, and unless you go out of  your way to avoid anything heavier than Justin Beiber (whatever that is), you've probably heard them, or at least heard of them in a favorable light.  They are a metal band that's heavy enough for fans of the more extreme stuff (like yours truly) to really get behind, but mainstream enough for your average non-metal listeners to still enjoy and appreciate.  Fact is, these days Everybody Loves Mastodon.  And deservedly so.  Unlike so many mainstream bands, Mastodon has evolved almost counter to their rise in popularity, each album more complex - musically, lyrically, and conceptually - than the last.  There is maybe one song on their newest opus, Crack The Skye, that could fit the constraints of mainstream radio.  Through uncompromising exploration of their talents, they've risen from a humble sludge band from Atlanta to easily one of the biggest metal/hard rock acts touring today, without "selling out", and still maintining their complexity and artistic bravado.  In many ways they are metal's Radiohead.  Except for one small problem.

They can't sing.  At all.

Normally this is as non-issue as it gets for metal acts.  Guttural growls and high-pitched screams are the norm, and that's fine, as it fits the genre.  But true, clean singing in metal is like karaoke - few can do it well, and it's oftentimes so out of place to begin with that when it isn't executed to perfection, it shifts reality just a few inches to the left, and leaves you feeling just a bit uneasy, and if you're like me, with back pain and slight nausea.  Few things can take anyone out of any moment as easily as terrible singing.  To continue the karaoke metaphor - think of your favorite bar or restaurant, then think of the first bars of a song you dearly love coming on.  The excitement builds - you've had a few beers, you're having a great time.  Then imagine the words to this song filtered through the unforgiving pipes of a drunken marmot dropped into a bathtub.

Ok, so Mastodon wasn't that bad.  But it was shocking and disappointing to say the least.  Jarring enough to take me out of the experience several times. When I heard they would be performing their newest (and arguably greatest) album Crack The Skye in it's entirety, I was giddy like a fanboy.  So you can imagine my surprise when, after the awesome intro to the first track, "Oblivion" began, their mouths opened, and I thought perhaps the band had been replaced by some of downtown Raleigh's homeless.  It did get a little better, I will admit, but overall it was just too jarring to ignore.  Ever tried to ignore karaoke? You can't, it's impossible.  But Perhaps it's my fault for familiarizing myself with the album through repeated listens over the past year, but I prefer to blame studio trickery.  (It's just easier.)

Now, I've seen Mastodon before, nearly 3 years ago, and this was hardly an issue.  The problem in between being their release of a more complex, story-based album that relied much heavier on actual singing, as opposed to guttural shouts.  Given the psychedelic nature of the album (LOTS of acid went into this album, just read any description of the story and you'll agree) I wouldn't have been surprised at some differences, and to expect any band to be able to faithfully recreate the studio product is an exercise in futility.  But the vocals never sounded manipulated enough for me to suspect that these guys couldn't carry a tune if it had handles.  This isn't T-Pain we're talking about here, just what I thought was some echo, reverb, etc..  Nothing on the album ever sounds remotely out of what I would have expected their range to be, given their previous work.  I thought maybe they were just drunk, because any time the vocals were anything but heavy, they just plained sucked.

Except they weren't drunk.  And ironically it was their apparent sobriety that brings me to The Good about this show.  Namely, their musicianship.  I stated before it's ridiculous to think any band can recreate their studio work, but vocals notwithstanding, Mastodon did just that.  Not note for note, mind you, but every single member of the band managed their entire set without flaw.  I cannot say enough positive things about what an amazing group of musicians these guys are - what you hear musically on album is very real.  But at the same time, it's disheartening to hear the ugly proof that their vocals are a different story altogether.

Fortunately my disappointment doesn't extend beyond their live show.  I have no problem with altered vocals on-album, especially when they don't sound overproduced, like Mastodon's, and I'm happy to report I'm listening to them as I write this, and am not enjoying it any less.  But my takeaway from this weekend's experience would be to think twice before considering their live show. Especially if you're like me and broke up with a girl after hearing her perform karaoke.  (Note: that may have never actually happened.)




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On another note, might I just add that if nothing else, this outing solidified my theory that the Lincoln Theatre is a terrible place to see a sold out show.  The what-were-they-thinking floor design that seems to be almost all hall & corridor, with the slightly sloped old theater floors that decline *just* enough to make your legs ache afterwards, coupled with the sweaty fratsters (some with six-month-old garlic breath*) that always seem to show up... I could go on but I'll stop.  Suffice to say, make sure you really, really, REALLY like the band first.  Kthnxbye.


*Like the guy in front of me.  It made me want to cry, seriously.

Yay

Hey everybody I haz a blog now. More to come. Hooray.