Before Deadpool takes the stage, Mistress Juliya, hostess of Fuse TV’s heavy-metal countdown, orders the crowd upstairs to put their devil horns in the air. The audience does what she says, of course — she is, after all, a pretty lady from the magical talking box — but it quickly becomes obvious that shaping their hands into the international sign for loud music (slash “hook ’em Horns” slash “your wife has made you to wear the horns of a cuckold”) is just about as metal as this crowd of non-moshers is willing to get.
But that’s not to say that Deadpool isn’t mosh-worthy. Chris Wolfe pounds a relentless rhythm on his massive drum kit, providing a savage beat perfect for punching strangers. And guitarist Carlos Lopez, celebrating his recent Halo Guitars sponsorship decked out in a company T-shirt (the Houston-based instrument manufacturer also sponsored the concert as part of its Slave to the Metal Tour), interprets the solo as a masochistic form of finger-endurance test on a shiny custom-made six-string, one of the perks of working for the man.
Lead screamer Gordon Ireland’s monstrous growl could soundtrack a snuff film. “Everybody jump,” he commands in “Deadpool Society,” the band’s musical ode to alcohol-fueled mob violence, but he gets hardly a hop. Several people in the crowd, the few who aren’t sitting down at tables, are snapping pictures of the band with camera phones, occasionally making lazy devil horns with their free hands.
Speaking of blasphemy, the band’s backdrop alone — a reworked version of Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam in which the original dude is touching fingers with the horned one himself — should’ve merited a few bloody noses. Satan didn’t invent the metal show for the benefit of your Photobucket pages, kids.