The time, 1984. The place, Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. The venue, the L'amour nightclub. The band, any. Walking into this former auto body shop one would have been overwhelmed by three things, the stench of cigarette smoke, voluptuous women in skimpy leather clothing and headbangers.

Things have changed since 1984. Things have changed since Dee Snider of Twisted Sister ripped down the banner saying "L'amour Disco" and burned it in effigy on stage. Things have changed since the days of shredding solos, chainsaw guitars, and luscious long hair. The headbanger has become an endangered species and it truly, truly saddens me.

My jaunt to this year's installment of Ozzfest is what brought this all about. Normally, I would avoid Ozzfest the way I would a bible convention however the lineup this year was far to enticing to pass up for the ludicrously low (for the bands that were playing) price of $57. When it is announced that Slayer, Judas Priest and Black Sabbath all with their original lineups, in that succession are playing, you just go. You drop your belongings, get out the door and drive until the metal hits you. That is what it's all about.

Ozzfest has two stages, the second or useless stage and the main stage. The second stage begins at 9 AM and usually doesn't have anyone worth waking up that early to see. We showed up around noon to be hit with the stylings of "the Egyptian Goddess" Otep who is neither a goddess nor Egyptian. She looks more like some white trash ex-porn star who rips off Angela Gossow rather than having original ideas. The second stage, to its credit has improved over the past few years. It used to be a showcase for god-awful nu metal bands but has since transmogrified to a showcase of metalcore and modern hardcore often called "screamo" or "shit in a blender." These bands try to draw in metal fans and hardcore fans with a mix of emo style music with rough guitars and screaming. These bands are eager to fellate anyone who can lend them street cred with metal fans and it sickens me. Be metal or go home. Be true to the classic styles or die. The best way to get street cred is not to play homogenized crossover malarkey and to focus on what the metal forefathers did.

I can easily do without eight hours of this music. Sandwiched in between all of this nonsense was Lacuna Coil, a band I have raved about in the past and will continue to do so in the future. Their gothic rock stylings are immense and well crafted. It is a shame that this wonderful and unique band only gets a 20 minute set despite their latest release recently passing the 100,000 mark in sales, usually considered astronomical for a metal band on an indie label (though the case can be made that Century Media is not so much an indie label anymore). The second stage headliners consisted of Connecticut suburban hardcore leaders Hatebreed and everyone's favorite vapid and moronic band of minstrels, Slipknot.

The main stage was what I paid to see and did not disappoint. Dimmu Borgir and Slayer turned in magnificent sets and Priest sounded as good live as they probably did 14 years ago. Halford was spot on, hitting all the highs and blowing everyone away. The 80's stage show was replicated in perfect form reminding me how awesome metal can be in its most primal incarnation. And then there was Sabbath. What else can be said about a band that spawned all of this? A band that blew me away in 2001, 2002 and again last night with a subdued but superb live show. Unreal.

The real disappointment wasn't "screamo" or metalcore or even Phil Asselmo's latest experiment in idiocy. It was the demographics and the management of this spectacle. When families and day camps start attending these festivals, it's time to throw in the towel. When I see 7 year-old children decked out in Slipknot shirts that extend to their knees hand in hand with mommy, it's proof to me that what all the true headbangers fought for from the 80's to today is void. How can any parent encourage their child to listen to music about how much they hate their parents? Then we have the mall kids, sporting flashy Hot Topic attire or unsightly trend wear, trying to hide the mountains of fat that protrude from their incomprehensible 15 year-old gut. I have never seen a larger collection of 250+ lb. adolesants ever. Not even at a Con. No true metalhead allows apathy to creep into their life. We don't provide for loafing around, viewing television, wasting life on computer games and whining until you get more cash from daddy. Metal is about getting out there. It's about DIY. It's about killing yourself to live. It would of course only be natural for bodies constructed of triglycerides to run inside when the skies opened up before Priest. The true fans didn't mind getting a little wet to enjoy something that has been 14 years in the making. Of course, you have many people my age, letting locks fly about despite and anticipating the next several days of neck immobility. The vast majority have short dyed and gelled hair, wear visors and look as though they share fashion tips with Brian Warner. I was so happy to see crusty, hardened metal fans from the 80's in support however, still wearing the same denim jacket with faded out and dirt layered patches, unwashed and still true after years. They didn't sell out and neither will I.

Ozzfest is a Sharon Osbourne commercial enterprise. Bands do signings but at the cost of the fans needing to purchase the album to be signed for jacked up prices (thanks FYE) before getting on line. I stood 10 feet from Kerry King but couldn't get him to put pen to my ticket stub since I didn't feel like paying $20 for a copy of South of Heaven. I bought that album several years ago. Doesn't that count for something? Doesn't it prove my loyalty to the band? Somehow if it was 1985, I would like to believe that Kerry King would have pulled a Hulk and smashed down the barricades to join the loyal. I would have loved to get Lacuna Coil's autograph again and was denied. I was denied meeting a band that has made an indelible mark on my body. Luckily, they are truly metal and hung around the venue, signing stuff even after their official session ended (Side note: hanging out with Lacuna Coil was Anthrax drummer Charlie Benante who also signed my ticket stub. I mentioned meeting his nephew on the 4th of July however he seemed uninterested.).

Some rage must be leveled at The Tommy Hilfiger Theater at Jones Beach operated by ClearChannel Communications. $5 for a 16 oz. water? $7.50 for a slice of re-heated pizza? And we wonder why kids pass out at these shows. Even the second stage bands were pleading with security staff to hose down the pits. The fans upfront gave a shit less about set lists and drumsticks but viciously fought over the precious water thrown their way.

So as I sit here, doped up on ibuprofen to ease my aching neck and severely sun burnt forehead and arms, in some ways, I'm glad L'amours has closed. If Ozzfest has gone this astray from the path, it would have only been a matter of time before Nevermore shows were filled with preteens past curfew. It's a good thing that these metal glitterati never felt like venturing to Bay Ridge; otherwise the metal scene may never have existed. Blatant and embarassing commercialism like this has no place in metal and it must end.