An Orchestra of Fists

Being on stage as the vocalist in a hardcore band was exhilarating.  It was like being a music director, except instead of an orchestra pit with woodwinds and brass instruments; you controlled a mosh pit with spinning feet and fists.   Electric. Something like that is hard to walk away from.  It took George Bush activating my Army National Guard unit in 2005 to drag me kicking and screaming from the middle of the stage to the Middle East.  Just like that it was over.  All I’d worked to build blew away like sands on the wind when I traded a microphone for a machine gun. 

Hardcore has a way to make the weak feel strong.  It makes the lonely and misunderstood find brotherhood and purpose.  The scene was still fairly underground at this time and it felt special being a part of something both violent and beautiful.  I started going to shows in the late nineties at Armories or other impromptu venues but in 2000 it really took hold.  Some weeks I went to shows on Wednesday nights in Charlotte, Friday in Greensboro and Saturday shows in Winston-Salem or some version of that.  All those old haunts have been condemned, closed or otherwise erased from the map.  They still live on in my mind’s eye as if it were yesterday. 

During the latter part of high school, I started a band with a couple guys I knew from skateboarding.  This band was somewhere in the rap-core genre that was big at the time thanks to bands like Incubus and Limp Bizkit.  We played a few parties and bonfires but that band died on the vine fairly quickly. Our drummer at the time was more interested in partying, and would pass out drunk in the middle of our sets, falling heavily off of his drum stool.  The guitarist, Dave, and I answered a classified ad to play in the “heaviest hardcore band in High-Point.” 

We started a band with those High Point guys that was a direct rip off of bands like Poison the Well, From Autumn to Ashes, and the myriad NC metal core bands we all loved.  This was the first band I screamed just about every lyric.  We chose the name “According to Perception” by closing our eyes and flipping through a dictionary and landing on those words.  We shortened it to ATP most of the time. 

That was the first band that played “real” shows at actual clubs and venues.  Most of our shows were in the Piedmont and Sandhills of North Carolina within an hour from home.  We even got our name on the marque outside a large club in Winston.  That felt like a milestone for us at the time.  We didn’t even care they spelled it wrong.  We also didn’t care absolutely no one stood near the stage while we played.  It turned out we were the only metal band in a primarily punk rock line up and well, in those days punks and hardcore kids often didn’t get along for whatever reason.  The irony there is both of our musical genres were rooted in the same place; different branches from the same tree.  We were just happy to be playing. 

According to Perception (2000/1)…they were close enough on the sign for us. Left to right: Dan Riedel, Chris Downey, David Jett, Me, Brian Pennington, Sean Downey

At that time in musical history, metalcore wasn’t anywhere near as culturally acceptable as it would later become.  So, right as we were getting decent gigs and a small following, I decided to join the Army.  I dropped out of college on the first week of school and joined the Army National Guard to pay for my education.  It felt like some sort of calling at the time.  I had to quit the band when it was time to ship off to basic training.  The dudes were bummed but they understood, especially later that summer when 9/11 happened.  I just felt I saw the writing on the wall and needed to establish some sort of future for myself.  Music was in my blood, but I needed something more.  I knew it wasn’t over for me.  I Just had to hit pause for a while. 

Fast forward to 2003.  I was starting to get the musical itch again.  I began going to shows almost as soon as I came home from basic training and AIT the year prior.  As long as a show didn’t fall on my drill weekends, you’d see me windmilling and spin kicking to breakdowns in grimy basements and smoke-filled venues.  I started to fall back into those old rhythms.  I played around with a few side project bands but nothing stuck. 

My friend Aaron was the vocalist of another band that we’d played a ton of shows with, and he was (and still is) likely the most dialed in person to the North Carolina hardcore scene.  He knew everyone.  He also was somewhat of a mentor of mine. Growing up in the scene, he always treated me like a younger brother by looking out for me and turning me on to new bands and new music.  He told me a band he knew was headed to the studio to record a demo, and their vocalist quit.  He said he could set me up with them for a try out in the studio. I said what the hell, let’s see if I’ve still got it.  

I showed up to the studio, a real recording studio, which meant something back then.  I nervously wrote lyrics as the guys I’d just met recorded their two-song demo.  We hit it off quickly which was a relief, and their music was heavy and chaotic just like I loved.  When it was my turn to do vocals, I felt like I was going to be sick.  I was so nervous.  It was do or die.  I wrote a song about the Iraq war called “End of Babylon” because the new war was looming on all of our minds in 2003.  I wrote another song about a friend who had killed herself while I was in basic training.  That’s what I took into the vocal booth with me.  I did pretty good for having never heard the songs or met the guys prior to that day.  They liked it so much that they took one of the lyrics from “End of Babylon” and renamed their band “Red with Vengeance.”  I got the job.

We practiced a few times a week.  I’d make the hour-long drive to and from practice giddy that I got to hang with these dudes and make music that was truly something I loved being a part of.  We started playing shows within a few months of that recording session and gained some steam locally.  In late 2004 after shifting our line-up and adding a couple solid guys, we recorded a six song EP entitled “Our Ways Upon Them” at that same studio in Colfax, NC where it all began for me.  Just as we were about to release that CD (back before everything was digital) I got the call from my unit.  We were mobilizing.  Damn it, George Bush.  This was that kicking and screaming part I mentioned in the beginning.  I hated to leave those guys. I never got that CD release party. I helped the guys pick my replacement in early 2005 and I shipped off to Iraq.  They played a few shows and had quite a few more lineup changes.  Not long after I left, they changed the name of the band and played maybe another year.

Me, Josh Platt, Gregg Brown, Michael Whitaker, and Clyde McKenzie made up this lineup that recorded the RWV six track EP.

In 2007 we decided to play a reunion show with most of that original lineup from the EP recording.  Those two final shows were some of the best shows I ever played.  Mostly, because I knew how special that band was to me and a handful of our friends.  Like I said up top, it was electric.  Seeing guys I idolized in the scene, like Joe Musten of Advent and Beloved fame dancing to our songs made me feel like I was somebody.  Even if only for a few minutes in time.  That’s a feeling that’s hard to replicate.  Also, I think Joe may have injured a bystander with how aggressively he was moshing which was awesome to watch.  Again, I was the maestro of mayhem and I loved every second of it. 

Those shows in 2007 were the last times I’d played heavy music in front of others.  I miss it dearly.  I played briefly in other bands, mostly fumbling at bass guitar in various other genres.  I even did a couple one-off side projects on vocals with one as recent as 2021 called Rebuked.  Nothing will ever compare to playing shows with my best friends in RWV all those years ago. 

Last year, out of nowhere, we were asked by a local record label if we’d be interested in doing a re-release of our 2004 EP on vinyl.  This was another Aaron Penn connection; I’m telling you that dude IS North Carolina hardcore.  I said yes before even asking the other dudes.  I was that elated.  For me, this is more than reminiscing about a former band, it allows me some small place in history where I can finally see my name on that album, with words I wrote and music I helped shape with friends that I love like brothers. 

Almost twenty years after we originally recorded those songs, they got remastered and released digitally.  The date for the release of our vinyl record will likely be sometime early next year, and for me that’s going to be better than Christmas. It’s proof I existed in the hardcore scene; concrete evidence that I wasn’t erased with time and hard drive failures.  There’s even talk of a reunion show next year, although it’d take a miracle to get us all willing and able to play those songs again, but I believe in miracles. 

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Check out Force of Reckoning Records website or their Instagram (and our Instagram too) in the coming weeks for info about our Vinyl Record release.

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Our music is available on all digital platforms

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