19 June 6 - 12, 2024 dallasobserver.com DALLAS OBSERVER Classified | MusiC | dish | Culture | unfair Park | Contents War Is Over Heavy metal giants War Beast suffered a loss with the death of singer Bruce Corbitt. But they’re ready to rock again as Beast of War. BY CHRISTIAN MCPHATE S ince his lead singer’s death in 2019, Scott “The Beast” Shelby had given up on his rock ‘n’ roll dream to slay metal fans on the international stage with his monstrous ax as part of the Texas metal su- pergroup Warbeast. Shelby formed the Fort Worth-based band with veteran ’80s metal rockers Rick Perry from Gammacide on guitars and Bruce Corbitt from Rigor Mortis on vocals. They were joined by Alan Bovee on bass and then newcomer drummer Joey “Blue” Gon- zalez, who was only 17 at the time. It was their chance to recapture the lime- light that Corbitt, Perry and Shelby had only briefly tasted in the late ’80s and early ’90s before the mainstream music industry turned its sights on alternative music. Over the years, Warbeast lost Perry and Bovee and gained an assortment of members such as Bobby Tillotson from Demonseed (2010–14), Andre Karst from Infernal Ag- gression (2012–13) and Casey Orr from GWAR (2013–14) before the final lineup set- tled in in 2015 with Shelby, Corbitt, Gonza- lez, Drew Shoup on guitars and Corbitt’s stepson Lyric Ferchaud on bass. Warbeast landed a recording gig at An- selmo’s Housecore Records and released several albums, reaching a pinnacle most lo- cal bands can only dream of. Their stage presence, their passion, their desire to reach the success that only one other Fort Worth metal band, Pantera, had achieved. Nothing could stand in their way. Then, Corbitt was diagnosed with heart issues in 2015 and throat cancer in 2017. He died two years later, and the band broke up. Five years after Corbitt’s death, Shelby is reforming the Texas thrash metal super- group, following the path blazed by AC/DC, Ozzy Osbourne, Metallica, Pantera and Slayer, all of whom lost original members only to continue their musical legacy. Only they won’t be called Warbeast. They’re calling themselves The Beast of War. Shelby has reunited with a couple of former Warbeast members, Gonzalez and Shoup; they just need a singer and a bassist. “I see this as a beacon,” Gonzalez says. “I needed something to do. I’m dying to play fast and cut my teeth with this man. He taught me some of the important les- sons in life. We grew apart but that loyalty never went away. I’ve always looked up to Scott. I don’t see this as retaking the thrash throne. This is bigger than myself. … We’re the same dudes, and now we can sally forth and write the best shit we can and not have this black cloud of bullshit over us. “This is so big and important. We’re go- ing to write the sickest riffs. We’re not emo, and we don’t write sad songs. I think it’s go- ing to show.” The earliest incarnation of Warbeast was known as The Texas Metal Alliance, a su- pergroup that had formed to play a benefit show for a local metal fan in 2006, says Rick Perry, who had just finished rehearsing with his band, Iron Jaw, for their June 1 show at The Studio in Deep Ellum when he spoke with us late one evening in early May. Corbitt wanted to do the benefit concert with his old band Rigor Mortis and with Perry and Shelby’s old band Gammacide, but Perry said a few of their members lived out of state and couldn’t make it. Perry said he told Corbitt, “Why don’t we get together and you can sing some Gam- macide, and we’ll play some Rigor Mortis and do the all-star thing.” The benefit concert was a success, and Perry and Shelby decided to keep jamming with Corbitt. They started playing shows, but realized Texas Metal Alliance wasn’t a good name for a band. As Perry recalled, it “sounded like a support group.” Corbitt wanted to name the band “Ludus Magnus,” a gladiatorial arena in ancient Rome. “That was a horrible name,” Perry says. “I don’t know why he loved that name.” He loved it so much that Corbitt wrote the song “Ludus Magnus” for Rigor Mortis’ final album Slaves to the Grave in 2014. Shelby recalled wanting to name the band Beast of War, but it would be Perry who would receive a blessing of inspiration from the gods of metal. “I wanted War- beast,” Perry says. “I thought of that name. I wanted a name that if you open up the Dal- las Observer and see a band named War- beast, you’d have no doubt what kind of music they are playing and know it wasn’t jazz. I wanted it to be full on metal — spike, leather and Satan.” The musicians checked online to make sure no other band had taken the name. They didn’t find anyone, though guitar maker B.C. Rich has a guitar called War- beast, but that simply solidified the “spikes, leather and Satan” angle Perry was aiming for. Perry says Anselmo’s Housecore Records came up with the band’s logo, loaded with references to anarchy, black magic, Satan and, of course, KISS, a legendary rock band whose acronym conservative Southern preachers in the ‘80s thought stood for “Kids In Satan’s Service.” Anselmo released and reissued several albums for Warbeast with album covers from the fever dreams of a thrash metal fan: 2013’s War of the Gargantuas, 2014’s Destroy and their final album, 2017’s Enter the Arena. Though Perry and Shelby had equal parts in creating the band, Corbitt became its face. “Bruce had a distinctive voice and com- manding stage presence,” Perry says. “For someone who wasn’t a professional musi- cian, Bruce kind of approached it from a fan perspective. He had his shit down and never messed up and never forgot his lyrics and never missed a line or had bad timing or anything like that. “He will be hard to replace. But they at least have the right try.” After Corbitt’s death, Shelby gave up the stage and attempted to live a regular life. He met a girlfriend who wasn’t a metal fan, bought an acoustic guitar and started learn- ing a different style of music. He also experi- enced his own share of tragedies, including a heart attack. Shelby realized he needed to turn every- thing bad to good, be grounded and sur- round himself with positive people. They can be difficult to find nowadays, especially on social media. Last year, he received an offer to play in Toby and the Terrorizers, a cover band that played on a stage in the backyard of the house of a guy named Toby. He said the cover band was kind of like Texas Metal Al- liance with a revolving door of singers. He described their style as music from Alice In Chains, Audioslave, Exodus, Heaven & Hell, Black Sabbath and AC/DC. “I’d never played in a cover band and al- ways played originals,” Shelby says. “It was all good. I got a taste of blood ’cause I’m still me if I’m playing Alice In Chains. I’m still The Beast.” Then, Shelby’s daughter asked him, “Why are you wasting your talent?” It’s a question he had no doubt been ask- ing himself since Corbitt’s death. “My ex-wife said playing guitar defines who you are,” Shelby says. “That statement stuck with me. Hot chicks want you to play guitar, and I had some mental problems. But now I’m back on fire.” Shelby had lost touch with Gonzalez, the only other original member who had re- mained with the band until Corbitt’s death in late January 2019. He’d been pulling dou- ble duty as a drummer for Warbeast and the Illegals. “When I got this spark, I first called Philip [Anselmo, from Pantera] to see what he thought,” Shelby says. “He seemed more excited than anybody, super excited and su- per positive.” Shelby began contacting other members to make sure they were in a good place — physically, mentally and musically. He wanted to run “the unit professionally. No bullshit and no singers who are one-sided. Warbeast is the public band and the child of a bunch of legendary Texas bands together. I want to try it one more time, but we’re doing it my way.” He started with Gonzalez and went to catch one of his shows. His former drummer had been playing in a couple of bands since his stint with the Illegals: The Dover Broth- ers, a rock band from Houston, and Perico, a local metal band known for its “beans and rice beatdowns.” “I had some concerns where he was at,” Shelby says. “I was checking on the brother, making sure he’s all right. But he was seri- ous, and I caught a badass show [and thought], ‘Alright, you’re back.’” Gonzalez wasn’t the only one to return. Shoup dusted off his electric demon and also joined up. Ferchaud, on the other hand, did not. In early May, Shelby said that he had spoken with Bruce’s widow Jeanna Corbitt out of respect before he decided to move forward with the band. He said that his plans were to honor Corbitt and keep his music alive by sharing it with new fans. “Of course, the only reason I started pro- moting this whole campaign was because I got her blessing to go forth without any kind of slack, and then after a while of me campaigning and getting people worked up, it did backfire,” Shelby says. “A lot of politics involved,” Gonzalez says he replied. “Telling people and everyone and their mother, this is who it is going to be. Friction turned into hearsay, turned into un- true stories. Scott had completely shed skin to just kind of move forward. Now the haters can’t do anything because he changed the name.” If you’re interested in trying out, contact Shelby, Gonzalez and Shoup at [email protected]. | B-SIDES | t Music Jason Janik The late Bruce Corbitt (left) and Scott Shelby slayed with metal band Warbeast. The band is now picking up where it left off.
