Testament back in forefront of scene they helped establish decades ago

By Jason Bracelin

LAS VEGAS REVIEW-JOURNAL

Sometimes they come back, and by "they," we mean dudes in stretchy jeans and bullet belts, those overenthused longhairs allergic to clothes with sleeves.

The thrash metal revival has been in full swing for a couple of years now, denoted by a clutch of musical trademarks that first came to real prominence in the early to mid-'80s: triple-time riffing, hoarse, gruffly melodic vocals, a fusillade of double-bass drumming.

The tunes generally revolved around the Big Important Issues of the day (nuclear warfare, global warming, shark attacks, etc.), the mass consumption of beer and/or the sweaty, bruise-checkered thrills of the mosh pit.

It was a genre that somehow managed to be both escapist and hyper-realist from one moment to the next.

For metal kids on an endless quest for faster, harder, more adrenalized sounds, this was the musical equivalent of the advent of bungee jumping.

It's long been one of the most influential movements in metal, and now thrash is in a period of intense rebirth, questionable fashion statements and all.

"It's very noticeable to see kids in their white high top tennis shoes and their denim vests," says Chuck Billy, singer for long-running thrashers Testament. "It really is like the old school."

And Billy should know.

As a product of the Bay Area metal ranks, perhaps America's most fertile and storied scene, Billy's been manning the thrash frontlines for more than two decades.

Beginning with the band's still-potent 1987 debut, "The Legacy," Testament swiftly distinguished themselves with their blend of whiplash-inducing velocity, near virtuoso guitar playing from lead six-stringer Alex Skolnick, who would later embark on a career in jazz, and Billy's keen sense of harsh, husky melody. It enabled the band to strike a balance between all-out musical warfare and a tunefulness that made them palatable to more than the just the usual battery of heavy metal masochists.

It was a sound that became a blueprint for a whole new generation of young thrashers who have asserted themselves in increasingly prolific fashion in the past two years, spawning a full on resurgence of the movement that has begun to benefit the forebears of it all.

Nowadays, with four-fifths of their original lineup back after Skolnick had been absent from group for more than a decade, Testament is playing in front of sizable crowds again. Their latest album, 2008's "The Formation of Damnation," is a strong return to form, a blunt force instrument with cast-iron hooks that's put this bunch right back at the forefront of the scene they first helped establish decades ago.

"The way I see it, there's always going to be a teenager who's rebellious, looking for something that's a little harder than normal," Billy says of the current thrash boom. "In the '80s, there were only handfuls of bands. Now, there's a lot of new bands that are making good names for themselves, and there's actually a lot of these independent labels that are willing to put up a lot of money to promote their bands. It's helping the whole scene."

Testament's return to prominence is especially vindicating for Billy, who was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer in 2001 and doubted whether he'd ever be able to return to the stage.

"I thought my music career was just done," he says. "I didn't ever think I was going to go on the road again."

The Bay Area metal community would rally around Billy, throwing a benefit concert for him in 2001 with a bevy of seminal '80s acts, including a reunited Testament.

"That was the first time we all actually got onstage together," says Billy. "That kind of broke the ice, and here we are years later, back together, doing it again and having a good time with it. I never thought it would happen."

Eventually, Billy would fully recuperate, and as he slowly gained momentum, so did the scene in which he's long played a pivotal role.

He's an older dude now, in his 40s with a family, whom he occasionally brings out on tour with him.

His life once flew by at a pace nearly as torrid as that of his band's songs.

Those days are gone, even if he isn't.

"I'm really enjoying what I probably slept through or had been hungover through (in the past)," Billy says. "It's like a whole new thing. It's like I'm on vacation as a tourist with my friends, but I just happen to have to play for a couple of hours that night."

Contact reporter Jason Bracelin at jbracelin@ reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0476.