Hard Rock

This guest Violation post is brought to you by Disinformasiya, editor and second-in-command of Heavy Blog is Heavy. If you aren't familiar with HBIH, it is a fellow metal blog "dedicated to heavy music and all of its friends, featuring metal news, reviews, and other nincompoopery", as opposed to my blog, which exclusively focuses on the latter. You can visit www.heavyblogisheavy.com, "Like" them on Facebook, or follow them on Twitter.

Enjoy!


Newsflash: hard rock is not metal.

Well duh - but seriously, just sit your fat ass down and listen, because clearly some of you need telling.

Wikipedia terms hard rock as "a loosely defined genre of rock music", which I guess is accurate in so far as it makes your mother's panties loosely defined. Hard rockers are so manly. They so bad. Just look at them, with they long hair and they soul patch beards. Your grampy woulda bust a vein if your momma had gone off on the back of some Stephen Tyler ape-a-like's motorcycle, which is why she had to marry your dad.

Truth is though, this was actually a much better outcome, because what I shall now only refer to as 'butt rock' is such bullshit that it's even less metal than Justin Bieber in a dress riding a unicorn. It gave her the opportunity to spawn you, and despite your questionable progeny, you are undoubtedly way more metal than Saul Hudson's retarded top hat.

Let me explain: as is well documented around on That's Not Metal, there is nothing less metal than being a try-hard (as well as its subsidiary categories 'poseur' and 'sycophant'). Jussy B has never tried to pass himself off as anything other than an insipid, sugary buttmunch, and so credit where credit's due; but hard rock, with all its tattoos and flowing locks, is NOT metal, no matter how badly it wants to be - and it does want to be (who or what wouldn't?), trust me.

Case and point: Mr. William Bruce Rose, singer, songwriter, high grandmaster of douchebaggery and bane of my ever-loving existence. "Oh hey, you like, like, heavy music, right? You must love those funny Guns N' Roses guys, they're so bad!" No. Just...no. This insipid dicksneeze has an ego the size of Yellowstone and a destructive capability to match (and by 'destructive' I mean 'the ability to piss off rooms of literally thousands of people"). He probably thinks he has every right to act the big man and throw a wobbly if he doesn't get his way, and that this is an acceptable way to act. Well I got news for you, asshat: getting sand in your vagina over the size of your rider is about as metal as a butterfly fart. Yes, truly metal men like Bill Robinson get angry, but at real things like THE MAN and THE POLICE taking his weed. Would you see him losing his rag over a bunch of grapes?

Axl Rose: From grungy thrash kid to guido mob boss. -Brenocide

Let's compare and contrast with the legend that is Henry Rollins. This man is so disdainful of vapid prima donnas like this that he posts notes such as this backstage at his shows:

In fact, he's pretty disdainful in general. He hates shitty rave music. He hates shitty drugs. He hates pathetic drivel, and he HATES BUTT ROCK. Check it:

So we've determined that these two men are polar opposites. One is metal; one is not. But this isn't about Axl Rose. This isn't even about Henry Rollins. This is about the whole damn package, and you can bet there's more to it than poorly aping the characteristics of metal.

Mattassacre has quite rightly called sex out as being completely False. The opposite sex serve only to distract us from the pure joy that is metal.

So how many times have you seen some so called 'rock star' with a ton of bitches on his arm? What, you think they're gonna play scrabble? No; they're going to bang, right after the show, leaving the oft-bearded roadie to strike their stage and tuck their beloved guitar in for the night. What's more, they play this 'bad-boy' butt rock in order to get these women; this is the end goal - NOT the creation of awesome tunes. The feck is that all about?!

When you are tr00, you pursue only metal. If the behemoth attractiveness of your mighty facial folicles and the pure animal magnetism of your manly aroma are somehow not impregnating every woman within a fifteen foot radius, then so what? Unimportant. Do not - repeat, NOT - compromise your integrity and write "I Would Do Anything For Love". I, for one, will NOT do that...

- Disinformasiya


Let it be known that I actually fucking love Meatloaf. - Brenocide