We arrived as pilgrims, drawn to Baltimore Soundstage by whispers of the unyielding guardians who wield the fabled Magic Sword. Virgil and I made peace with a fellow devotee who exclaimed that he had been on pilgrimage ever since a past initiation with Mega Ran alongside MC Chris a decade prior. The devotee had brought along new pilgrims who, though novices, sensed the night’s potential magic and awaited their blessings. At the entrance, more pilgrims arrived in elaborate ceremonial garb, exchanging knowing glances — for tonight was a convergence.
At Baltimore Soundstage on April 23, Mega Ran emerged first, an oracle from Philadelphia weaving enchantments through beats inspired by ancient pixelated scrolls. Once a humble sage, Mega Ran now summoned profound truths, celebrating knowledge itself in a hymn. “Gimme the Fruit” resonated as the fiercest ode to nature’s bounty I’d ever witnessed, while revolutionary fist pumps accompanied a prophetic chant derived from Final Fantasy VII lore.
Descending into the throng, Mega Ran gathered us into an intimate circle, lavishing us with blessings by invoking our very names in rhyme—each syllable carrying the magic of personal acknowledgment. His final incantation, a rhythmic tribute titled “Tractor Beam,” was an enchantingly soulful invocation channeling Earth, Wind & Fire’s cosmic energy.
Watch the official music video for “Tractor Beam” by Mega Ran on YouTube:
Starbenders followed, heralded ominously by Carl Orff’s “O Fortuna.” This Georgia-based coven (keepin’ it down since 2013) embodied fierce and youthful alchemy reminiscent of The Runaways, conjuring glam-infused spells peppered with KISS aesthetics and new-wave whispers. Though enigmatic at first, their vocalist soon orchestrated a playful duel of cheers between left and right sections, a charming manipulation of energies. Their bassist declared succinctly afterwards at the bazaar out front, “We’re here to fucking rock,” confirming their intent as conjurers of pure rock-and-roll vitality.
The night culminated in the arrival of the revered Magic Sword, guardians cloaked in mystery beneath helmets that pulsed with red, yellow, and blue — the colors of their sacred duties. A recorded prophecy filled the hall, foretelling their role as defenders against Evil. Their performance was a grand thaumaturgy, synthesizers cascading and crashing like beautiful incantations, drums striking with cosmic resonance, guitars eviscerating the darkness.
During “Sword of Truth,” a sacred ritual unfolded as the drummer borrowed a glowing blade from a congregant (sold at the bazaar outside no doubt), leading a synchronized choreography which transformed the audience into acolytes of Magic Sword. The guardians stood triumphant, brandishing the Magic Sword against the encroaching gloom. Their final offering, a thunderous, thrash — infused “In the Face of Evil,” was a victorious proclamation that darkness would never prevail while these immortal paragons stood eternally vigilant.
Stream “In the Face of Evil” by Magic Sword on YouTube:
Silence befell the room, then the house lights emerged while DMX’s hymns filled the silence. We dispersed, each bearing witness to one another’s blessings.
