Randy Blythe, solistul formatiei americane LAMB OF GOD, va lansa la jumatatea acestei luni volumul „Dark Days”. Acesta va prezenta intreaga poveste axata in jurul incidentului din Cehia, din anul 2010, atunci cand un fan a murit dupa un concert Lamb Of God.
Cateva fragmente din carte in care solistul descrie episodul devastator din Cehia pot fi citite mai jos. Textul intreg publicat de muzicianul american poate fi citit AICI.
„What do I remember about the set we played that night? Not much. It was just a show like any of the hundreds of other shows my band has played in its career. It was loud. It was hot. I dumped a lot of water over my head to cool off. There were a lot of people dressed in black with long hair smashing into each other. We seemed to go over okay with the crowd. Nothing particularly spectacular or horrible occurred to my remembrance. Only a few things stood out when I searched my brain for any sort of clue.
„I remember that right from the beginning of our set, there seemed to be a lot of people onstage. People who did not belong. People who were not in our band, crew or working as security. As a matter of fact, I don’t remember there being security of any sort present in the area near the stage, because people kept on hopping up, bumping into me as they ran across the already crowded platform and leaping into the crowd. At every show my band plays, there is a signed contract with the promoter of the gig that states what Lamb Of God as an organization requires in order to put on a show. One of these requirements is trained security and a reliable barricade placed properly in front of the stage, both measures meant to ensure that audience members do not jump onstage and that both the band and audience are safe. Sometimes certain things are struck from a contract or rider depending on the promoter’s budget for the show, but never, ever security or a barricade. Lamb Of God draws a rowdy crowd, to put it mildly; if there was no security at our shows, then more than likely our equipment would get knocked over every night, we would get knocked off stage, and eventually someone (probably several someones) would get seriously hurt. On this night, not only was there seemingly no security present, but no real barricade. If there was one, it was flimsy and pushed up flush with the stage, because fans were leaning on the stage, and kept hitting my feet whenever I would prop one up on a monitor, irking me quite a bit and causing me to back away the two or three feet I had into Chris’ drum kit. I began to wonder where in the hell security was, and couldn’t wait for the gig to be over. This show was a disaster – the club sucked, my crew was pissed off, the stage was tiny and crowded with our equipment. A crowded stage is a dangerous stage for me, because I hop all over the place constantly when we play, despite not seeing well because of my lack of glasses and the stage lights that constantly glare into your eyes. The fans punching my feet and running around on stage made it even worse, and as the nonexistent security did absolutely nothing to stop them, I began to get very annoyed.
„I was particularly annoyed with one young blond-haired fan who jumped onto the stage again and again, trying to put his arms around me as I tried to sing. I watched him fly into the audience at one point and hit the floor pretty hard, only to reappear on stage not too long after. He had already made two appearances prior to this instance, and despite my pointing at him, shaking my head to communicate my displeasure, here he was again. I decided at this point I had had about enough of his shenanigans, figured that he was drunk or crazy, and decided to teach him a lesson. As he came toward me, I reached out with my left arm around his neck, slipped my hip behind his, and took us both to the ground. Once we were on the ground, I wrapped one of his legs with my left leg in what my middle school wrestling coach would have called a half-grapevine, then straightened up a bit and grabbed him around his throat with my left hand. I didn’t choke him, but applied enough pressure to let him know I meant business, and in between singing lyrics into the mic I had kept in my right hand the whole time, I began to yell something to effect of „No! No more, you asshole!” into his face. I suppose the best analogy of this whole physical confrontation would be that of a mother dog when she puts one of her pups on its back with her mouth and growls at it – Hey, knock it off kid. I’m serious.
„This young man apparently didn’t think I was serious, because he began to grin and raise his hands at me in the horns (the clenched thumb and raised index and pinky finger salute you see audience members doing at all rock concerts now), almost giggling beneath me. I must admit, this slightly pissed me off – I was trying to work, he seemed to think that it was his right to come up and drunkenly disrupt our performance, and now the little shit seemed to be smirking at me. I held my temper in check though, didn’t throttle the grin off his lips, and just continued singing and yelling „No more!” in his face until he decided he had had about enough of being on his back and tried to get up.
„Oh, no. That wasn’t about to happen. You wanted to be up here so badly, you little fucker, I thought, and now here you are. With ME. You’ll leave when I decide it’s time for you to leave. He began to look a bit panicked, and started to struggle some more to get up, so I took my hand off his throat, wrapped my left arm around his neck and pressed my whole body down on him. I gave up yelling „No” at him, and pressed the microphone into his face as I kept screaming the lyrics into it. This really seemed to freak him out – he couldn’t move and I was screaming into his face from just inches away. I held him there until he looked truly shook up, then I let him go. I figured I had made my point and he would not be returning to the stage. I do not remember him leaving the stage, but I do remember my bassist John looking at me and saying, „That was fucking awesome.„