It was in a less-than-humble Texas town, at a more than humble Texas music venue which boasted rough log-lined walls that would have made Lincoln himself long for home. It was amidst the pungent aroma of raw wood and stale spirits mixed with the musty smell of blood, sweat, and beer from the sea of diehard metal fans who eagerly flooded this enlarged log cabin to witness the nostalgic glory of what was once a rebellious riot in the world of mainstream metal.
The town was Austin, Texas, and the venue was Come And Take It: Live. Not only a multi-level music venue christened with the battle cry of the Texas revolution, but now the epicenter of a different kind of revolution, one of the mind and, most importantly, one of METAL. This was the setting as we gathered to listen to the legends themselves, Max and Igor Cavalera, make their mark as The Cavalera Conspiracy. Little did I know that this mark would be made by ripping open a wound made 32 years ago by the long-revered and never forgotten Sepultura.
Direct support act Fear Factory took the stage as we arrived at Austin’s metal Mecca. With new members looking and sounding just like the original line-up, Fear Factory had a strong showing of fan support. So much so that it was nearly impossible to see the stage from anywhere but within the anarchy of the mosh pit. The only thing in the air that was thicker than the humidity was the excitement and anticipation of the headlining band coming on next.
There was so much hype in the air that security staff was deployed to penetrate the crowd with flashing lights and brute force as Dino and the boys tore into “Zero Signal,” kicking out several violent patrons who were likely kicking themselves in the ass as they were ejected from the venue and prevented from seeing what was soon to come; indeed, what we were all really there to see.
All that to say, I was fully aware of who I was there to see, but nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to witness. A crowd drenched in sweat and packed like a sardine can started to cheer uncontrollably as a replica of the bound man from Michael Whelan’s Chaos A.D. cover art was hoisted and raised from the rafters, dangling directly above center stage as LCD screens played a montage to honor the historical album these brothers first berated us with. Shortly afterwards, the band stepped onto the stage and addressed the crowd.
The cover-inspired mummified mannequin served both as homage and as foreshadowing while it hung so low that the house cameras could hardly capture Max’s face bellowing ear-blistering vocals from behind. When he first approached the microphone, Max cried out, “Chaos A.D.!” As the inevitable cheers of old-school fans began to subside, Max finished his sentence by shouting, “FUCK SHIT UP!” It was at this time that the band began their set with the Sepultura song “Refuse/Resist.”
The audience was filled with a swarthy mix of excitement in the moment, melting together with memories of the past, as The Cavalera Conspiracy became Sepultura in the eyes of their onlookers, and we all realized what was in store for us. This was the night that we all were about to hear, to see, and to witness the entire 1993 album played in full, live and with full force, albeit in a different order. The passion of the band as they played was only rivaled by the potent zeal of the crowd in front of them. Moshers fled from the pit scarcely halfway through “Refuse/Resist,” pleading for their lives, while others rushed like fools into the sweaty, suicidal chaos of Chaos A.D.
The intensity of the band and the revelry of the audience easily overshadowed the two meager video screens, one on each side of the stage, that served as their multimedia accompaniment. It might also have been the surprising lack of politically outraged imagery or clips of hated world leaders or orange-faced tyrants, but what flashed on the screens was at no point the focus of anyone’s attention.
The in-house streaming of the live performance onto the house’s wall-mounted screens was impeccable, showing that the years had been much kinder to Igor than they had been to Max. A service much appreciated by two-thirds of the turnout, who had to resort to watching on the screens to actually see the band through the sold-out, max-capacity of occupants. As the Brothers Cavalera and band played track after track under the red wash of crimson stage lighting, it slowly became very obvious that the lyrical content of each song rang even more relevant today than it did upon release. This setlist hit like it was written in the last five years, embodying the very definition of being ahead of its time. Finishing the set with their first big hit, “Territory,” I was taken back to the early 90s when I had heard them for the very first time, and my life was forever changed.
Halfway through the final song, I managed to escape the resounding glory of everyone’s sing-along nostalgia and was able to clearly hear that Max’s singing voice remains unchanged and perfect to this day. Of course, the masses demanded an encore. And, of course, the band was happy to oblige. Lead from the stage, the entire building joined in the chant, “Fuck ICE! Fuck ICE! Fuck ICE!” This continued until Max, Igor, and some guest musicians – including Dino Cazares of Fear Factory – started to bring down the house with Brujeria’s “La Migra.”
What remained of the evening was a mixture of anarchy, brotherhood, and sheer joy that came to an end with Max beating the microphone against his head while pounding on his guitar with his fist. All in all, this long-time fan of Sepultura couldn’t have hoped for a better experience seeing The Cavalera Conspiracy, and I recommend that you all reading this get off your asses and do the same as soon as possible!
Words by Brennan Richie | Photos by Gonzalo E Pozo
