If Public Enemy's Chuck D joined Black Sabbath, the result might
sound something like Rage Against the Machine.  That rap/rock combination
proved explosive when Rage performed for a full house Sunday night at
the Astroarena.

	Rage Against the Machine isn't the first band to meld hip-hoop and
hard rock.  Run-DMC and Aerosmith joined forces 10 years ago on
Walk this Way.  Ice T has had some success with his metal band Body Count,
and the Beastie Boys have taken punk/rap to a whole 'nother level.

	But Rage, which hails from suburban Southern California, might be
the most unusual hybrid rock/rap band yet to hit the scene.  The guitarist,
Tom Morello, is an African-American Harvard grad.  The lead vocalist,
Zack de la Rocha, is a Mexican-American Bob Marley look-alike.

	Rage was forced to postpone an earlier date in Houston because of
de la Rocha's bout with strep throat.  Given the strain he puts on his vocal
chords, it's a wonder he can even make it through a show.

	The band then made the crowd wait another 55 minutes after the end
of an opening set by the Stanford Prison Experiment.  But when Rage finally
hit the stage with People of the Sun--from the platinum, chart-topping album
Evil Empire--it had the crowd jumping from the start.

	While the Beasties have the edge in terms of lyrical flow over de la
Rocha, they offer nothing to compare with the sonic explosions laid down
by the guitarist Morello and the driving rhythm section of bassist Tim Bob
and drummer Brad Wilk.

	Although he is the die-hard rocker of the crew, Morello wowed the
crowd with his guitar imitation of turntable scratching during
Bulls on Parade.

	On songs like Bulls on Parade, Vietnow and Without a Face, de la
Rocha shouts out a revolutionary social message similar to late '80s hip-hop
groups such as Public Enemy and Boogie Down Productions.

	On Bullet in the Head he warns about the perils of heedlessly
following your gang or, for that matter, your government.  With a powerful
call-and-response chant of "They say jump, you say how high," the song
demonstrates what is missing in these days of tired, gotta-get-mine
gangsta-rap.

	But the message is not what this 20-something-and-under crowd was
after.  Instead, it was moved by the pulsating, earth-quaking, ear-splitting
blast of wailing guitar, thundering bass and booming drums.

	With Bob, Wilk, and Morello wrecking shop, the mosh pit action on
the arena floor was energized to a fanatical plane.  The combatants--those
who were not asked to leave early by the security, that is--were able to
depart sporting smiles to go with their cuts, scratches, bruises and
black eyes.

	The Stanford Prison Experiment's 40-minute thrash-rock set seemed
more like an experiment gone awry.  The band had no presence and no concept
of how to get the crowd involved.