LIVE REPORT: CLUTCH, RUSSIAN CIRCLES, AND VIKING SKULL AT THE STARLAND BALLROOM, DEC. 27, 2008

By editorial intern Chris Krovatin

Time in transit from New York City to the Starland Ballroom in Sayreville, New Jersey: An hour and a half.

Number of exits missed: Three.

Best thing about borrowing your folks’ burgundy Acura SUV: It has a GPS system and XM radio.

Worst thing about borrowing your folks’ burgundy Acura SUV: It’s a burgundy Acura SUV.

Number of people in Starland Ballroom: Way too fucking many.

Average level of inebriation: Way too fucking high.

Second worst thing about borrowing your folks’ burgundy Acura SUV: The inability to get totally hammered and jump around like a moron when Clutch play “You Can’t Stop Progress.”

Did they play “You Can’t Stop Progress”?: We’re getting there.

Worst attribute of the first opening band (who’s name I failed to catch): Four pretty-fuckin’-metal musicians wailing out while a bitched-out lead singer bounces around and shrieks like a neutered Chester Bennington.

Oh, man, look at him: He jumped in the air, hoping to land on the final drum crash, and came down at least three seconds too early. What an asshole.

Number of times you’re asked if you want a beer: Six. Driving sucks.

Most predictable opener: Viking Skull.

Number of songs Viking Skull played: One—the same one, over and over again.

Hey, it’s Viking Skull: Did you expect a dance hall rap?

Approximate number of chiggers dwelling in the combined hair of Viking Skull: 75,436.

How the Hell is that dude still wearing his leather jacket?: It is a million fucking degrees in this goddamn place.

Most surprising realization: Starland Ballroom serves pizza.

What the Hell, man?!: They don’t serve pizza at Roseland or places like that in the city! That’s a brilliant idea!

Well, actually, maybe they do: I dunno—getting table service at a metal show is lame as the dickens, so I don’t usually go for it.

Most unexpected opener: Instrumental band Russian Circles. Every song was written in the Neurosis vein of swelling, bulging, and then exploding all over the stage like a badass progressive pimple.

Favorite member of Russian Circles: The drummer. He’s a fucking beast.

Hot damn: These guys fucking slay! It’s like Pelican with a massive set of balls.

Oh, great: Of course, the band ends that song and the whole club goes quiet right as I say the phrase “massive set of balls.”

Cutest sight of the evening: The 3-year-old with his parents in front of me, banging his head like a madman.

Best overheard comment before Clutch come onstage: “Do you think they’ll play that song about muscles?”

Number of false-start lighting fades before Clutch ACTUALLY begin playing: Three.

Hey now: What’s that SMEEEEEEEEELL?!

Number of audience members who go totally bugfuck crazy when Clutch take the stage: All of them.

Number of joints lit as Clutch take the stage: See previous answer.

Approximate number of chiggers living in Clutch singer Neil Fallon’s beard: 75,436

Wasn’t there a chick in Kittie named Fallon?: Yeah, the hot black chick from the original line-up.

Body parts shaken during Clutch’s set: Money-Maker, Groove Thang, That Ass, Tailfeather.

OK, “Can’t Stop Progress”: Yeah, they rocked the shit out of it.

Depressing realization of the night: Clutch are a psychedelic band and therefore are prone to seemingly endless jam seshes between huge riffy muscle songs.

OK, guys, we get it: You can stop having your crunch-out now and play “Elephant Riders.”

Oh, sweet, fellating Jesus: Neil Fallon just cracked out the cowbell, and the hippies in the audience are noodle-dancing in the pit.

Song I most wanted Clutch to play but knew they wouldn’t: “Army Of Bono” off of Blast Tyrant.

Number of audience members smiling at the end of Clutch’s set: All of them.

Amount of alcohol consumed after a safe return to Manhattan: 40 ounces of Budweiser and a double Black Label, neat.

Yo ho ho: And a bottle of rye.