Grindcore JP 2014 - Built for True Grind Heads

Rolo Lemus sings in a grindcore band called Inanición. According to Rolo, Inanición is the only grindcore band in Guatemala. Okay, sure, there are other bands that play grind-y music in the region. But he insists they’re not real grindcore. These other bands play “gore grind,” with gurgling growls and squealing guitars. Or they’re just metalcore or deathcore bands masquerading as grindcore.

On Saturday, as Rolo mingled with fellow metalheads in an upstairs patio area at the 333 Live nightclub in Los Angeles, he explained to me his litmus test for figuring out if a band is truly grindcore. “I just have one question: Can you tell me who is P.L.F.?” he said, referencing an old-school Houston outfit that only a true grind head would know.

Drawing a blank? “Well, you’re not grindcore, man. Sorry.”

Lemus had come to L.A. from Guatemala City to attend Grindcore JP 2014, a daylong music festival that true grindcore aficionados could appreciate. The fest’s lineup didn’t consist entirely of grindcore bands, but the metal subgenre’s core tenets—growls, screams, brutal blast-beats and cynical political messages—were common throughout the day. And the headliner was a West Coast version of the pioneering L.A. grindcore outfit Terrorizer, featuring the band’s original singer, Oscar Garcia, and dubbed Terrorizer L.A.

Terrorizer emerged in the mid-to-late ’80s alongside other grind innovators, like Napalm Death and Carcass; their 1989 album World Downfall is a classic of the genre. Though it’s been over 25 years since Garcia has tackled songs from that album, onstage he still had a fierce, gruff growl. His bandmates—Carlos Reveles, Rick Cortez, Mike Caffell and Leon del Muerte, who plays guitar in Garcia’s main band, Nausea—also held their own, pulverizing the audience with gut-rumbling relentlessness.

Granted, it was hard to get a nuanced take on what they were doing, just because the acoustics in the cavernous, echo-y room were so bad. But that only seemed to make the band even grind-ier, swallowing up their riffs, blast-beats and growls and churning them into a hideous mash. I mean, really, what more could you ask for with a grindcore band?

Terrorizer broke up in 1989, but reunited again in 2005, then reunited once more in 2009. These days, the band’s original drummer, Pete Sandoval, plays in a more active Terrorizer with a completely different lineup from Terrorizer L.A., which Garcia assembled just for this one show. Kinda confusing, but oh well. “I tell people, ‘We’re not claiming to be Terrorizer. This is our version of Terrorizer,’” Garcia told Noisey as he hung out by some merch tables before the show, just after getting wrangled by fans for a photo op.

“The only reason why I’m really doing this is just for my wife,” he added. “I kept telling her, ‘I have my own band.’ I never try to mix Nausea with Terrorizer. And she just kept on saying, wouldn’t it be cool if I would do it again?”

The Grindcore fest, now in its second year, was organized as a tribute to Terrorizer guitarist Jesse Pintado, who passed away of liver failure in 2006. Put together by his sister, Emma, the fest had a warm, welcoming vibe. There was a strong Latino turnout, and some of the older concertgoers remember checking out Terrorizer and other L.A. metal bands at backyard parties in South Central and East L.A. back in the day.

“We’re OGs of metal,” said Cesar Resendez, a head-banger in his early 40s. He was rocking Locs and a black banana-fedora combo, hanging out with some friends while waiting to see old-school L.A. thrash-punks Bloodcum.

A total of 18 bands played at the fest. Nausea’s set consisted ofstraightforward, crusty grind. I was a bit more impressed by Houston’s War Master: While two guitarists with extremely long dreads shredded on militant riffs, their frontman let out hideous growls and waved around a cutlass—metal’s answer to Jack Sparrow.

But even they had no match for Wehrmacht, a veteran crossover thrash band from Portland. They almost had a melodic, Guns N’ Roses thing going on with their riffs. But their singer—who was rocking a grey beard, a wrist guard and a sleeveless T-shirt bearing a picture of the Palestinian flag—was pure adrenaline, sticking his tongue out and giving the thumbs up while screaming his head off. And their drummer refused to let up on his psychotic, multiple-stab-wound beats, even when their lead guitarist’s instrument cut out.

Towards the end of their set, they shuffled up the lineup a bit to play songs by the ultra-high-speed Santa Monica thrash-punk freaks Cryptic Slaughter. That’s when the circle pit really went ballistic. When people are diving headfirst into the crowd without concern for anyone’s personal safety, that’s when you know you’re at an awesome show.

Of course, a festival called “Grindcore” invariably raises some questions about the state of grind in 2014. Since the days of World Downfall, the oppressive global capitalist machine has only grown bigger and more complex, and music has only grown more extreme. Is grindcore still potent? Is it still necessary? I’d say so. In times like ours—global warming; war in Iraq and Syria; migrant children flocking to the U.S. to flee violence in their home countries; people donating money to a potato salad Kickstarter campaign while others struggle to survive on meager wages—there’s something deeply satisfying about absorbing the frustration and rage of songs like “Ripped to Shreds” and “Dead Shall Rise.”

Also, there’s some comfort in knowing there are fellow blast-beat lovers among us. Consider, for example, the case of “Napalm Tiff,” a 42-year-old Napalm Death fan from North Phoenix.

Tiff is so into death-metal and grind that she came to the show as an ambassador for an underground music club called AZDM, or Arizona Death Metal. “I’ll get my patch soon,” she said, pointing to a patch knitted on her vest that read “prospect.” “I’m representing Arizona right now.” She was here for the music, but also to meet up with Rolo Lemus, the Guatemalan grindcore singer.

These two have been friends on Facebook. But now, they’re friends in real life, too. You see, it’s stuff like this that gives me hope. If there ever is a world downfall—if the warheads fall, the obliteration comes, and the dead do rise—I’m sure some of us shall find comfort and security in the international tribe of grind.

Peter Holslin still isn't over the death of Grind Goat. He's on Twitter - @PeterHolslin

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