Thousands of people streamed down first one aisle, flowing past the stunned security guards, only to be matched by a wave of even larger dimensions on the opposite side of the Coliseum. Quickly admitting defeat, security looked at one another and, wisely, decided to just let it all happen. After all, this was a RAGE show, and the audience was entitled to their fare share of fury, right?

So the floor was mobbed from wall to wall, and even before Rage started, and I mean after Gang Starr did a very lukewarm set to an extremely cold audience response, the mosh pits were going full force. To give you an idea, a friend told me afterwards: “I was in the third pit on the right.” Got the picture? So with the testosterone flowing freely, the band kept the crowd waiting a good forty-five minutes after the stage was set, a seemingly calculated move designed to build the excitement level even more.

The stage had a nice backdrop with a reproduction of the cover of the new album emblazoned across it, but instead of Los Angeles, it said “The Battle Of New York”. In all reality, it seemed unbelievably tacky for a band like Rage, especially since the “New York” looked like it was safety pinned on, and didn’t really match the backdrop’s colors correctly. Nonetheless, the band finally hit the stage and all was forgiven.

One of the most powerful performances you could ever hope to witness followed. There has never been an more appropriate name for a band, I think. The pure Raw Power that they displayed would have made Iggy Pop And The Stooges proud. Zack de la Rocha’s inimitable vocal rants were often obscured by the slightly muddy mix, but the crowd didn’t need to hear him (obviously), singing along word for word with every song. Tom Morrello’s guitar work was simply stunning. Sounding like a phaser set on stun one second and a buzzsaw cutting straight into your heart the next, he played his guitar, and accompanying electronic equipment, with a style all his own. Along with Tim Bob’s sprite bass playing the two created a major force to be reckoned with. Often drifting into territory that might even be called fusion jazz, the two played with expertise rarely seen in “alternative rock” today. I wouldn’t want to forget Brad Wilks’ more than able drumming... without him, this foursome would surely be lacking.

With a set list that included all the songs you’d expect to hear: among them “Bulls On Parade,” “People of The Sun,” and a couple from their new disc, the band played for one hour exactly and then abruptly left the stage. Not quite what everyone expected. Returning for an encore of three songs, the concert was stretched out a little more, but it definitely left a weird aftertaste, realizing how long the evening was, and how little of it was filled with Rage actually playing. And I wish I could say more than that the music was unbelievably powerful, but this was one of those nights where the event itself was as compelling as any music created that evening.

Nonetheless, it was, as another friend put it days later, “one for the history books.” I saw at least a dozen boys walking around looking for their shoes (or one of them) after the show. And when I asked a security guard what “...all that weird white stuff on the floor was,” after the show, he replied, “That IS the floor!” The moshing was so intense that layers of the surface were actually ripped to shreds! One for the books all right. I couldn’t agree more. But I don’t think Nassau Coliseum will be welcoming Rage back anytime soon.