Aftershock marked the third time I’ve seen Slipknot, which is pretty remarkable given that I don’t listen to Slipknot.

The keyword there is “listen.”  I may not care for their music, but Slipknot puts on one of the most visually interesting shows I’ve ever seen. A Slipknot concert is like a David Lynch vision of Hell. It’s like rubbing Tabasco on your urethra. It’s your worst nightmare made manifest.

Like Marilyn Manson, the best pics of a Slipknot show are the ones that capture the vibe more than a precise photographic image. That’s good news for me — I can do “blurry hellscape” all night long. Just don’t ask me to shoot clear photos.

Speaking of enjoying the visuals more than the music, thumbs up to Aftershock’s organizers for making the show so accessibile. The translators were busily signing for the hearing impaired the whole time, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many wheelchairs at a show, though admittedly I wondered how some of those guys navigated the plowed field that served as the show’s parking lot.  Nicely done, Aftershock.

Slipknot