 | ON THE FRONT LINES with Freak |  |
ON THE ROAD WITH... FREAK BLACK LABEL SOCIETYPOP’S Sauget, Illinois – 3/19/05
If any band belongs in the industrial wastelands of East St. Louis it’s Zakk Wylde’s Black Label Society. The almost artistic blend of abandoned warehouses and litter-strewn parking lots are complimented by the nauseating stench from the billowing smokestacks from the neighboring factories and the muddy Mississippi River. Even the rats and flies prefer to stay West of the Arch.
It’s here that three strip clubs, a liquor store, and Pop’s sit nestled on a small parcel of paradise that our story begins.
We rolled into the lot mid-afternoon. I pulled up alongside the buses, to find the crew setting up targets on the railroad tracks running behind the bar. Beer cans, bottles, and CDs were spread out until a nice firing range was crafted some fifty yards from the front of the bus.
This went on for nearly two hours until sound check came around and it was time to go inside. The owner of the strip club across the tracks came out to investigate the side of his building which had taken the brunt of every pellet that missed the range but didn’t really seem ready to confront the armed group of musicians over the dings in the wall.
The inside of Pop’s is quite the departure from the grey abyss lurking outside. A nice open space with bars in just about every corner of the room, POP’s has a high stage to ensure a good line of sight from anywhere and a few pool tables off to the right hand side. A balcony, decorated with posters from past events, lined the walls of the club and a spot along its railing is the best place to hang for the show.
After soundcheck, Zakk called me over to the bar but it wasn’t for a drink. He handed me three cases of Budweiser and took three himself and said, “Follow me.” We walked out back by the buses where eighty to a hundred people were waiting and just started handing out the beers. When Zakk finished, he disappeared onto the bus and as I handed out the last one, he reappeared with what looked like a glass of Mountain Dew.
“Drink it” he bellowed handing me the cup. “What is it?” I asked smelling the concoction, “Just slam the goddamned thing, it’s the Black label way.” So down the hatch it went, twelve ounces of what turned out to be Crown Royal & Ginger ale. “Atta boy, I’ll see you inside,” he huffed, jumping back on the bus while I grabbed my last can of Stag to chase the drink down.
Inside, I found my friend Jimmy and Phil and joined them at a table along the balcony railing. My empty stomach was getting unruly, so I headed for the bar to get some grub.
Grabbing six orders of chicken tenders, I returned to the table and inhaled at least three of the baskets myself. Then I promptly passed out as the opening act, Meldrum took the stage.
Three chicks with a dude on the drums from Sweden, they were hand-picked by Zakk for the tour but I can’t say much about them seeing as I slept through their set and the CD I bought from them later that night didn’t work. (I want my ten dollars back)
Seeing B.L.S. live is like being bludgeoned in a dark alley. It’s more of a musical assault than a performance that demands your attention and takes no pity on the timid. As soon as the air-raid sirens sounded, the crowd responded by chanting Zakk’s name and we were under way.
Five days later the tour came to Chicago’s House of Blues and I was there early to have a Crown & Ginger with Zakk before he went on stage and, yes, to get my ten bucks back from those Swedes in Meldrum… which I did. | ||
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We went to the liquor store for a case of whatever was on sale and returned with Stag tall boys as Zakk and his “Evil Twin” Nick, hi-powered pellet rifles in hand, were inspecting the terrain. The rest of the band soon joined them and before long, six of the meanest looking bastards you could imagine were randomly firing some fairly realistic looking weaponry as a growing crowd of curious fans looked on.