Ozzfest 2005

Arriving to find the second stage ahead of schedule, we sadly missed female-fronted Arch Enemy from Sweden, though we did catch The Haunted and they ruled! They tore up the stage with their meticulous rampaging. The excitement of Ozzfest started to infect my being with a cancerous rate of acceleration.
The anticipation for Mastodon increased as Bury Your Dead, Wicked Wisdom, Gizmachi and A Dozen Furies hyped up the crowd. When Mastodon hit the stage, I was in bliss; a beautiful, brutal, metal bliss. Their latest album, Leviathan, is my new favorite album, but in person I was powerfully impressed by their serious presence and underground, super authentic style and attitude. The massive live sound was perfect, and being there, I was almost in disbelief. From what I could see of the crowd’s faces, there were expressions of awe.
After Mastodon, I found The Haunted’s bus for a spontaneous photo shoot and maybe an interview. This was my first time on a super-sleek, rock star-type RV. Inside, the coolness from the AC was calming and the band members were all speaking in Swedish. These five men, four of them having gorgeous long hair and Nordic blue eyes, looked weary and maybe slightly annoyed, or maybe just a little shy. Matt Egenes, my co-worker, threw out some questions and we found out they were bored. Singer Peter Dolving claimed that there was not much for them to do but hang in the bus and “piss off your wife,” since there was booze and drugs and girls to ruin their marriages with. They did make it out to see Mastodon, though — apparently, they love Mastodon. After some more chatting, mostly with guitarist Jensen, and photos, we left, but not without Dolving offering us some cheese since Matt told them to say “cheese” when he took their picture! I look forward to seeing them again when they tour the US in December.
As Rob Zombie approached the stage, the whole area seemed to increase in tension, and a ton of people showed up out of nowhere, including security. A roadie almost got in a fight with someone trying to steal his gear. As Rob approached the stage he looked, well, just like Rob Zombie, and with former Marilyn Manson guitarist John 5, they played a typical Zombie set, as Rob commandeered the audience.
Main stage acts were mostly one big yawn. Sweden’s In Flames kicked off the evening, and I noticed some members of The Haunted in the crowd came to see them. Black Label Society began with one super-long guitar solo and Zack Wylde was so much like his cartoon version on Aqua Teen Hunger Force that it cracked me up. Chad Gray of Mudvayne came out in a furry black suit with a bowler hat, bloody face and a baseball bat, but they were so lame that I couldn’t even watch.
Then Iron Maiden descended from their Rock God throne. It was like an opera, with curtains of Iron Maiden zombie art changing for each song. So did Bruce Dickinson’s theatrics and costumes as he ran around with his outstanding charisma, riling up the crowd. Everyone was standing, clapping and singing. I was enchanted. During “Number of the Beast,” a huge, mechanical, almost Buddha-like goat rose up with flashing red eyes, nodding over the crowd as “666” flashed across the back of the stage. The highlight was when a giant zombie walked out on the stage and followed around members of the band, as one of the guitarists wildly swung his guitar into it.
Nothing could have prepared me for Black Sabbath. Ozzy teased the crowd behind the curtain in his English accent and ran across the stage, opening the curtain with his hand until he popped out from behind it. He was adorable! He had the biggest smile the whole time, frequently hopping and quivering his hands in the air and clapping slightly off-rhythm. He looked like the happiest man in the world. Black Sabbath actually sounded great as they played most of the classic faves, except no “Sweet Leaf,” to my regret. However, none of that mattered when the onstage screen showed live shots of Ozzy up close and the crowd getting swallowed up in flames as Ozzy sang “watches those flames get higher and higher,” during their signature song, “Black Sabbath.” The screen made it look like we were all in hell, but when I turned and took in the amphitheatre glowing with lighter flames as Ozzy proclaimed his love to all just a few feet before me, I thought, “oh no, not hell at all. I am in heaven!”

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