Ahh - the amplified squall of young male aggression.
The all-day Budhafest music fest on Saturday at Clearwater Beach, just outside of West Des Moinesí city limits on Grand Avenue, wasn't an endorsement for a specific religion, as the name might imply. Nor was it a plug for the King of Beers - though roving four-wheel ATVs cruised the beach with coolers strapped on, acting as mobile Budweiser sellers.
Budhafest's purpose from the start, according to organizers (and brothers) Damon and Thor Mareno of the band Vivid, was to provide a hassle-free fest for hard rock and metal fans that would promote unity among its 20-plus bands drawn mostly from central Iowa but also from bigger Midwest cities, such as Minneapolis and Chicago. A crowd of about 2,000 - Damon's estimate that sounded reasonable accurate when eyeing the assembly on the beach - showed up before sundown Saturday to listed to the music and share in those goodwill vibes.
Musically, Budhafest-goers were inundated early in the day with a lot of bands that all worded from a similar screaming-guitar-bass-drums template. Metal and hard rock singers don't require a "pretty" voice so much as a healthy set of lungs fit for Jurassic-sized roars, and early performers proved that point.
And the emotional range in most of the bandsí songs pretty much alternated between simmering anger and full-blown, primal rage. The day's opening band, Dimentia, from Oscelola, bemoaned the imprisonment of "These Four Walls." Later on, the energetic, muscle-bound lineup of Des Moinesí own 12 Volt Revolver stirred up the mosh pit to activity for the first time with lyrics: I hate you! You hate me, too!
Some bands did diverge from the norm, though not all successfully. the near-performance art style of Elsewhere, a Des Moines duo, wasn't all that well received; one song was built on reciting the alphabet. Sporeís lead singer wielded a better voice than most, and he took time out for a political rant against the Internal Revenue Service. Ames' Grubby Ernie was the day's concession to ska-punk, and a lighter mood. Shiloh Church was an amusing punk band whose lead singer ate paint - seriously. And elementary school-age drummer Hunter Masolini, with father and guitarist John, converted the concession stand area into a mini-blues club amid the fest. Fans cheered and shouted, "Tear it up, little guy!"
By early evening, Des Moines quartet Squidboy by far displayed the tightest musicianship and best songs, though singer-guitarist Eric Kennedy had some kind of out-of-place feeling.
"We're the weenie band," he told the audience from the stage. "We're the comic relief before the heavy (stuff) comes back on." Later, 35" Mudder (Ames), Deadfront (Des Moines), and Release (Minneapolis) would close the fest.
Organization-wise, Budhafest offered fairly easy access to parking, food, drink, toilets and other necessities. Two side-by-side stages (facing the lake) minimized between band pauses.
But Budhafest wasn't a big-money fest featuring national, big-name talent. On its own terms of providing both easygoing fun in the sun for fans of hard-edged music and bigger-than-normal exposure for its fledgling bands, Budhafest succeeded.
And it's indicative of a larger trend. The metal-rap realm is hot right now among young males around the country, and Budhafest was a smaller, grassroots rally of that crowd.