As we pulled into Jones Beach (easily my favorite amphitheatre in the tri-state area), the sky turned an ominous shade of grey, a perfect, if but slightly annoying atmosphere to catch four classic metal bands side by side, and certainly a stellar way to spend a Sunday evening.

Fortunately, only a few drops of rain hit throughout the evening, so I wasn't forced to break out my badass pink poncho (the store was out of all other colors, I promise). Otherwise, the Masters of Metal show was a nonstop onslaught of some of the best classic heavy metal still in existence.

We were fortunate enough to have three different vantage points for four different bands. Our game of musical chairs started in the nosebleed section, where we caught both Testament and Motorhead's set. We sat beside a prime slice of heavy metal youth, headbanging away for Testament's blend of more thrashy, growling set. Curiously enough, this influential band, whose roots date back to 1983, were the only American band on the bill, the rest all shipping over from the UK.

Second on the slab was Motorhead. Of all four bands, they were the one I was most interested in seeing, and they certainly disappoint. Even as the sun shone on (just as strange as catching Bauhaus at this same venue under the same circumstances), Motorhead played loud and relentlessly, treating the audience to a good dose of amped up rock n' roll. Interestingly enough, the seats weren't packed for their set, and later on we discovered that most tried and true metal fans don't embrace Motorhead and their more punk/rock n' roll ethics. Poppycock, I say...The three piece played a classic and hard-hitting set, through and through, and definitely deserved their slot on the tour, even though I reckon their sound would have fared better in a much more intimate setting.

I wasn't terribly excited to see Heaven and Hell (a renamed second-wave Black Sabbath, with Dio at the helm), so we wandered down to the VIP area, a little grassy island patch to the extreme right of the stage, to devour nachos and hang with a few friends. Though I can't say I'm a huge Dio fan, I still enjoyed the band's set, if but from a distance. It took a few minutes for me to accept that this in fact WAS Black Sabbath in so many words. The riffs still meant business, heavily descending in just the right way with that classic hint of doom and destruction, and even if I prefer the band's original vocalist by a longshot, Dio still got the job done. Meanwhile, Heaven and Hell were the first of the four bands to employ any theatrics, as the stage was covered with gargoyles, and occasionally burst into flames.

Last on the bill, but certainly not least, was Judas Priest. We knew that both our mediocre nosebleed seats and severely flawed VIP vantage point wouldn't be enough, so we wandered to a closer section in search of better digs. We settled on the third section from the back, a bit to the left of the theatre, an area which was empty even while the rest of the venue was packed. Score! The improved view made Judas Priest an especially satisfying experience. As red mutant eyes lit up the stage, the band immediately launched into a hard, powerful set, not wasting a lick of their limited stage time.

For being on the top of their game for over 35 years (not quite counting solo ventures and their original disbanding), Priest were damn impressive, and Rob Halford's trademark yelps sounded as intense as ever. I expected a bit more theatrical elements, but the band still were a blast to watch, occasionally weaving in and out of formation during more extensive solos, and Halford changed outfits continuously, sporting his trademark leather at every turn*. The crowd relentlessly chanted "PRIEST...PRIEST...PRIEST" in between tunes, and Halford rewarded them here and there by leaving a few choruses to their own devices. Not my favorite rock n' roll gimmick, but certainly an effective one, as the missing choruses were sung loud and clear by thousands of devoted fans.

The highlight of the band's performance was the 1990 tune 'Painkiller,' a juggernaut which closed their truncated set on an explosive note. They were the only band allowed an encore, and soon after, Halford rode out on his trademark motorcycle, singing a few more numbers in his patented biker ensemble. Cliche, perhaps...but damn, it was awesome... Though we shuffled home both exhausted and cold, my inner metalhead was perfectly satisfied. At least, until next time...

*It is my duty to inform you that Judas Priest and company have claimed they sport pleather, especially after some PETA controversy at the turn of the century.