THRASHER

SUPERJOINT RITUAL
by George Petros

They’re pissed, but they’re cool. They let fly modern metal, but their hearts lie in country and southern rock. They’re peaceful, but they kick ass. Sometimes the contradictions get outta hand; sometimes a familial vibe smoothes it all out. They’re SUPERJOINT RITUAL, a supremely cool supergroup based in beautiful New Orleans.

The line-up reads like a who’s-who of heavy music. One member once fronted the coolest band of all time. Another member hails from the heartland of Americana, his lineage traceable to musical royalty. Yet another member comes out of the sludge itself. So, how does the music float so gracefully, with all that hard-ass shit below it??? Answer: the band fashions its music upon clouds of great pot and mountains of talent.

Phillip Anselmo, former Pantera principal, belts out vocals. Standing on stage, he makes hand gestures to which audiences respond by running this way or that, crashing into each other, getting crushed for their hero. He utters a few words and they go nuts. Hank Williams III, grandson of the folk legend, caresses his bountiful bass. His lushly strummed notes buoy the band’s bombast. He simply looks happy as he cranks it out.

Two amazing guitarists, Jimmy Bower and Kevin Bond, intertwine twangy and rough rhythms. They come outta bands such as Eyehategod and Crowbar, both of which exemplify that New Orleans-style subterranean riff, as distinctive a local product as a Bourbon Street whore or a riverfront peddler’s Po‘Boys. (Jimmy played guitar and drums for COC—a combination rarely heard these days.) Drum killer Joe Fazzio, also an Eyehategod alumni, keeps it together in a tight bundle of percussive pleasure. It’s all here.

According to Phillip, this band is essential: “I think Superjoint is exactly what kids need today, because most of the stuff shoved down their throats is absolute bullshit. Superjoint is the real fucking thing.” He’s right on the money, and offers this subversive message to American youth: “It’s refreshing to hear the truth instead of sugar-coated reports on television.”

A long history of political incorrectness endeared the singer to many. Consider this lyrical gem among the jumble of transgressive messages on A Lethal Dose of American Hatred, the new album: “American citizens: The most pissed-off motherfuckers in the world.” Although this guy loves to scare people (remember his House of Shock, the NOLA Halloween attraction?), he’s quite serious about seeing his threats through. Nothing less than a satanic revolution will satisfy him!

Similarly, Hank III harbors a dark demeanor. He’s a cool cat sitting atop volcanic fury. Fierce music is in his blood. Hank, how did you come to play bass with these guys? “Heavy metal. Hard rock. Anger, aggression, you know—that’s the intensity of this band. It’s old school-style heavy, hard shit. And here I am doin‘ it.” About the band’s bad attitude he says, “We’ll never end up in jail because we get our aggressions out through the music.” What would you be doing if you weren’t making music, Hank? “No tellin‘, man, no tellin‘.”

Each member’s idiosyncratic style blends into the blissful mix, like ghosts doing graffiti on a wall of sound. Anger and the musical impulse come together, creating a non-stop ambience of hate. Audiences fall under the spell, unable to get enough. Kevin Bond, a profusely tattooed dude, states: “We’re more than a band; we’re a scene.” They share the spotlight with zillions of pissed-off stagedivers and headbangers. Phillip snarls, “Full-on energy, kids jumpin‘ off the stage—that’s how every show has been. Full-on.”

All kinda shit happens as they blaze across the country. Hank: “We see all that good and bad shit all the fuckin‘ time.” Joe: “Every night there’s something that happens. We were on a tour with Danzig. In Mesa there were literally 800 kids on stage with us. They broke through the barricades. We kept playing while gettin‘ bumped into. We finally quit playing so that they’d chill out.” Jimmy offers this wisdom: “Out on the road it’s 23 hours of boredom and then one hour a day you jam, like in war.” Jimmy’s lovely girlfriend Danielle adds, “But it’s amazing how that one hour affects tons of people for tons of hours for the rest of their lives.”

Hank again: “We had a guy have a heart attack at a Superjoint show. It was a security guard workin‘ the barricade. The barricade was so intense and he was so out of shape, and tryin‘ to hold back 800 kids. He had a heart attack, and Phillip had to stop the show. And, there’s been fights. Being on the road, you’re around a bad environment most of the time.”

Kevin explains how it works: “You gotta have good people, good management, a good attorney, and a .357 Magnum.” Jimmy: “9 millimeter.”

A Lethal Dose of American Hatred certainly reflects the band’s real-life day-to-day dealings. Quickly paced, with each song segueing seamlessly into the next, it’s a homage to the golden age of crossover. “Our new record kicks ass. That’s it,” says Kevin. He ought to know. Joe: “We’re very proud of it. It rocks. It’s not ProTool-ed to death. It’s a real live hardcore record. It’s crossover metal-and-hardcore.”

Hank contrasts their efforts with the flavor-of-the-month: “Everything’s gotten real electrical. It’s about the dance—” What, then, should it really be about? “Music is basically about a band. It’s not about a dance or a loop played over and over.”

Tell us more, Hank. “Superjoint’s good stuff to skate to. It’s totally that style. Back when I was young, in order to pull off those good tricks I was listenin‘ to something with some angst in it.”

That brings up the guys’ favorite mag. Kevin observes, “Thrasher’s always been a killer mag. They didn’t do that many bands, but the bands they did all mattered.” Like Superjoint Ritual? “Exactly. Totally. I’d be flattered to know that kids were skatin‘ and listening to us.” Kevin: “I had skateboards but I was more of a BMXer.” Jimmy: “I had a banana board. I love skateboards.” Hank: “I got an old Misfits article from ”87 from Thrasher hanging up on my wall. They always had their ear to the ground as far as hard rock and stuff like that goes.” No doubt about it!