17 November 30 - December 6, 2023 dallasobserver.com DALLAS OBSERVER Classified | MusiC | dish | Culture | unfair Park | Contents Social media has helped introduce younger listeners to heavier music, Pember- ton says. He jokes that he’s going to “sound like a Boomer” before explaining that, back when he was in school, algorithms weren’t there to reinforce exposure to a certain genre. For example, Pemberton would wake up for football practice early in the morning, turn on MTV while getting ready and watch whatever random music video was on. Whether he actually liked what he saw was the luck of the draw. But kids today can take deep dives into subversive music that used to be less acces- sible. “Now, everything is algorithmic; you seek out something that you want to seek out,” Pemberton says. “It’s like you have blinders on and the algorithm is only going to point you in that direction.” North Texas’ metal scene is diverse and boasts “all types of genres, subgenres, peo- ple, ages,” says bassist Dave Spencer of De- vourment, the Dallas slam death metal behemoths. The region’s success can be at- tributed in part to the availability of venues that still host extreme music: “So many other areas of the country have lost those opportunities.” Foreign touring bands love to stop in Texas, Spencer says; the fans here are highly dedicated and friendly. Death metal here has earned substantial respect from around the globe, he continues. Saying you’re from the Lone Star State “car- ries a heavy weight.” And North Texas thrashers have succeeded in perfecting a sound first spawned in the 1980s. The three best words to describe the scene, according to Spencer? “Dedication, pride and family.” B lack and silver beach balls soar through the air at Wrecking Ball Metal Madness, punctuated by a sinister riff. Frozen Soul vocalist Chad Green orchestrates a Magic: The Gathering match, directing the crowd to form a circle pit around the fantasy trading card game. “Let’s go — faster! Faster! Faster!” Green bellows. The pit accelerates, rushing coun- ter-clockwise, as the players kneel and sit cross-legged on the beer-soaked floor. The moment went viral on social media and attracted write-ups by Metal Injection and Loudwire. Frozen Soul has accomplished much since the debut of its 2019 demo, Encased in Ice. This year, the band released sophomore album Glacial Domination to glowing re- views; Blabbermouth’s write-up awarded it a 9/10 and lauded Texas as “the epicenter of death metal right now.” One evening in mid-November, Green calls from a greenroom at a gig in Chicago. Frozen Soul is on a weeks-long tour and the shows so far have been packed, close to if not fully sold out. It wasn’t that long ago that Frozen Soul was playing venues across the U.S. in sup- port of titans like Napalm Death, Dying Fetus and Black Dahlia Murder, Green says. Now, his group is headlining many of the same spots: “It’s a little bit surreal, be- cause it kind of feels like we’re not sup- posed to be there, but it’s cool. It’s really cool.” To Green, the heavy music scene in North Texas has seemed healthy since his arrival. As someone who’d been a “loner,” he immediately made a ton of friends upon entry. Riley Gale was one of the musicians who was “super nice and super inviting” to Green. Power Trip’s takeoff helped to cement the region as a hotbed, he says. They were for Dallas and for Texas the way that Pantera had been. “I think like 2008 when Power Trip be- came a band, that’s when it really ex- ploded,” Green says, adding that Gale’s previous outfit, Balls Out, used to play rowdy rooms. “It was packed and it was awesome. Everyone had a good time and it was violent, and everyone left with stories and bloody noses.” Violence was no stranger to Power Trip shows. Fans at one local, dimly lit gig in 2012 hurled tables, swung folding chairs and lit banners on fire. Green used to play in other North Texas heavy bands: All Will Fail, End Times and Vulgar Display. Then he met Frozen Soul guitarist Michael Munday and started writ- ing death metal. Green says that many up- and-comers have followed the lead of Power Trip, the “first band from DFW to get out there and really tour hard” and carve out a name for themselves. The way Green sees it, Texas’ geography also plays a role in its unique scene, which he earnestly counts as the best in the world. We’re separated from the country’s major markets, and it takes considerable time and resources to travel out of state. We’re the largest state in the contiguous U.S. and situ- ated in the center of the South. Instead of searching beyond our borders, everyone in Texas looks to one another for inspiration and aid. That’s why “you have such a condensed amount of sick bands,” Green says. “I think that being separated and not having the luxury of driving an hour to go to another state … just added to that Texas charm that you hear in all these bands’ mu- sic, because we had to make do with what we have,” he continues. “We couldn’t get out and go do the cool stuff you could see on the internet, you know? Texas fucking rules and that’s it.” Heading into this story, I sought a suc- cinct answer to a central guiding question: What is it about DFW-bred subversive mu- sic that sets it apart from the rest? A light- bulb went off after I heard Green’s theory. It’s groove. From Pantera to Power Trip, North Texas is steeped in a groove-centric, rhyth- mic sound, Green says. If a song doesn’t hit in that way, then it won’t live up to the re- gion’s standard. That je ne sais quoi is still present in current bands like Frozen Soul, Creeping Death and Tribal Gaze, plus Kub- lai Khan, Ballista and Soledad. But it goes beyond groove. Dallas’ singu- larly inclusive scene, one that so seamlessly bridges the divide between hardcore and metal, also acts as a “big family.” Three days before Halloween, back at Wrecking Ball Metal Madness, ice-blue hues bathe Green onstage as he takes a beat to thank the crowd. “From this point on, the rest of this set goes out to the ones we lost,” he says. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it until the end of time: Mental health is not a fuckin’ joke. Take care of each other, please. Please take care of each other. Call your friends and family.” Green honors those who’ve lost their lives too young, including his late brother Cory, Wade Allison of Iron Age and Gale. He then growls a command. “Move this fuckin’ pit!” The pit abides. Elijah Smith Frozen Soul vocalist Chad Green performs at the Wrecking Ball in October. www.dallasobserver.com/signup go to WEEKLY EMAIL D SIGN UP FOR OUR WEEKLY EMAIL LIST for feature stories, movie reviews, calendar picks and more!
