By Kat Renz
It’s official: San Francisco is too brutal for the world’s most brutal band – or at least, Adult Swim’s most brutal band. Or maybe it’s the other way around. In any case, I was fully prepared to go forth and die, as promised, to the eagerly awaited, sold-out Dethklok show at the Fillmore. Instead, I went forth and left.
Opening band Soilent Green, who performed as the crowed continued arriving, was awesome: supertight – and frontman Ben Falgoust, who windmill headbanged along, had great energy. It boded well for the night. Then, in the midst of the third or fourth song, a Fillmore employee took the mic, calmly announcing there was a “slight big emergency” and we all had to exit the building – just as we were settling in, getting our cells resonating at the speed of some grinding Louisiana metal. Thankfully I had yet to buy beer.
So, 10 minutes after getting patted down and hand-stamped, we filed out of the building – a herd of bratty sheep. Young boys gave their full cups of beer the college chug and the curious, confused, and complaining fans were, to say the least, vocal at the offense of the inconvenience. Stepping a steel-toed foot into the chilly outside (damn, why did I coat-check my hoodie?!), I knew the sirens, with their reverse Doppler effect, were destined for us. Fire at the Fillmore. How metal is that?