As one of rock's most original bands, the B-52s have earned themselves such a stockpile of Cool Points that they can do a mediocre album or tour and be easily forgiven. But as it turns out, the group's brand-new Funplex disc is rather terrific. And, as demonstrated by last Tuesday's sold-out concert, their live presence these days is quite energized and inspired. Especially notable was guitarist Keith Strickland, who can easily be overshadowed by Fred Schneider's bombastic nerdy flamboyance and Cindy Wilson and Kate Pierson's groovy feminine glam. Fred/Cindy/Kate's distinctive vocal chemistry and Schneider's kooky charisma certainly captivated the crowd; but Strickland, sincerely grinning away and having the time of his life as he ripped through his scorching riffs, was the real propulsive heart and soul that fueled the concert's momentum.

At least half the songs on Funplex rank alongside the B-52s' finest tunes, and those essential Funplex cuts were interspersed with time-proven classics for a top-notch set list. The nearly 90-minute set played itself out rather predictably, opening with the thumping "Pump," the fantastic first cut on Funplex. Next up was "Mesopotamia," a semi-obscure older track for the faithful fan base, followed by an iconic crowd-rousing classic, "Private Idaho." The last song before the obligatory encore-begging break was an extended jam of "Love Shack," the chart hit that made the B-52s a household name.

The encore began with a stellar "Planet Claire," with Schneider generating cool walkie-talkie noise effects and Pierson captivatingly wailing her ethereal space-siren vocals. The last song of the night was a spot-on "Rock Lobster," the quasi-hit for which the B-52s are arguably most loved. And by the way, yes, "Strobe Light" flickered onstage with strobes through its instrumental bridge. Still, it's hard to complain about "predictability" when somebody is handing you what you must admit you wanted most. And really, that the B-52s' first studio album in 16 years is as memorable as it is, and that the band is so spirited and sharp onstage 30 years out - those are some significant unpredictable delights. — Michael David Toth

Testament
Peabody's, Friday, May 2

Friday it rained relentlessly in Cleveland, and indoors it was no different. Packed to the gills and dripping with humidity, Peabody's welcomed two crucial bands in the history of thrash metal, Testament and Death Angel. Some may say it's the water in San Francisco that allowed that city to cultivate so many significant metal bands. Possibly some of that water poured when the Bay Area thrashers swept through town. Either way, metallers of all generations swarmed to hear songs they hadn't heard live in ages. With both Testament and Death Angel resurrected in nearly original line-ups (off by one member each) the excitement and suspense seeped from both bands as they eagerly took the stage by storm.

Testament kicked into gear instantly and stayed strong, defying the heat and thick air. Ripping through rebuffed gems like "Into The Pit," "Apocalyptic City" and "Practice What You Preach," the band had the crowd singing choruses loud. Fists to the sky, heads banging fervently and air guitarists at every turn there was an affectionate resurgence of decades past. Robust front commander Chuck Billy encouraged devotees with smiles, gestures and his own version of the microphone-stand-guitar-solo.Elders crowd-surfed alongside their younger students while guitars were shredded impeccably. "Demonic Refusal," "Trail of Tears," "Souls of Black" and even "Henchmen Ride" off the latest album, The Formation of Damnation, kept the crowd chanting in unison and through the encore. Completing the monumental set with the crowd-pleasing "Three Days of Darkness," "Alone in the Dark" and "Disciples of the Watch," the buzz spilled onto the street where a modern day Heavy Metal Parking Lot ensued.

The night was a thrilling reunion of metal beasts mixed with some newer breeds presented by God Forbid and Soilent Green. But the magic formula seemed to be in the classic tunes from the Bay. At least that's what the guy that puked on the way out was blabbering about. — Hannah Verbeuren

Gigantour
Time Warner Cable Amphitheater, Sunday, May 4

The bands on the metal festival dubbed Gigantour came courtesy of Megadeth, who handpicked them for their sound and level of expertise. Stoner metal/doom band High On Fire opened up the show, playing material off its Death Is this Communion CD. The energy was high and heads were thrashing. Deathcore darlings Job For a Cowboy followed with an equally strong set.

When Finnish band Children of Bodom went on, the swirling crowd was primed and ready for some ass-kicking metal. Melodic death metal/power metal is their business. Most of the set came from their new disc, Blooddrunk, which happened to work a lot of synth and a pinch of pop hooks into the band's heavy, straightforward style. In Flames was nothing short of mind-blowing. Re-Route to Remain's "Cloud Connected" opened up the set. Anders Friden managed to placate the seated audience and the off-center mosh pit of young and old. "Quiet Place" and "Tell My Ghost" were the definite standouts, while "This Is a Call to Arms" made it hard to pick a favorite.

Promptly as promised, Megadeth assumed its place as metal gods. In front of a red Satan backdrop, Dave Mustaine and his mop of strawberry-blond curls rocked Cleveland. For the entire show, it seemed the red flying V he was playing was actually fused to his body. Mustaine is the Guitar Hero. Complex and astonishing guitar riffs and solos were the reward for braving the chilly Cleveland air. "Sleepwalkers" off United Abominations opened the show. With every song, we were treated to the most unbelievable guitar solos. Mustaine's lyrics were almost an afterthought to his flying fingers and his newly rehabilitated hand. The Metallica reject then launched into "In My Darkest Hour," off 1988's So Far So Good, So What. "Holy Wars" from Rust in Peace wrapped up the show. The leather-clad crowd slowly wandered to parked cars, still amped and grateful for a night of ear-splitting metal. — Jara Anton