Sunday, September 27, 2015

Review: Stonefromthesky - Orbital

Yep, looks like a one man band's cover art.

Stonefromthesky is  a one man band from Kiev, Ukraine. Strike one right out the gate is being a one man band. Usually the term implies "Pretentious Douche". The description the artist provides of himself doesn't help much either. "The project started in 2012 as means of individual self-expression. Soon it grew into an experiment to see what one man could do on his own.". Unfortunately "what one man can do on his own" turns out to be a complete waste of time. Here is his explanation of the genres his music incorporates "Though his music has definite electronic roots, stonefromthesky’s style also combines elements of atmospheric sludge, post-metal, stoner rock, ambient, glitch, IDM, breakbeat and whatnot.", which sounds like a fancy way of saying industrial music with distorted guitars and yelling, and unless Ukraine's definition of metal is drastically different from the one true definition as etched into stone by Tony Iommi, that is not metal.

The album all tends to blend together. In the five or so listens I can find nothing remarkable, let alone metal, about this album except that portions of the track Irreversible sound like they could have come off the soundtrack to Pi. Ignore the terms sludge and post metal. They are there to lure you in. Like a trapdoor spider, this album seems safe on the surface with it's description of a experimental metal with digital elements. But what it really desires, is to let it's true nature grab you from the below the seemingly safe surface and drain the metal from your body, leaving you a husk of what you once were.

The main problem I have with this album isn't the music itself. It's that it was sent to a metal website for review, which is actually not Stonefromthesky's fault. It's your fault. You poseurs that listen to Rammstein and attempt to speak their name in the same sentence as Ministry. Ministry earned their place in metal, Stonefromthesky has done nothing to prove that he belongs in our hallowed halls. Contrary to what Marilyn Manson and Nine Inch Nails fans may tell you, industrial music isn't metal. It never was, and it's disgusting the way it seeps into metal and tries to taint it. If your favorite metal bands include Rob Zombie, you aren't metal. Take your fancy sound effects and shove them up your ass. It's as if you're talking to someone about steak, the most metal of meats, and some cock brings up imitation meat with steak flavoring. It isn't steak. Its a monstrosity that appropriates a portion of it and pretends to be on the same level.

If you want to have a spider incapacitate you so that you may host it's young until they are mature enough to devour you alive click here. There is also a video for those of you that feel the questionable urge to see the visual aspect of what one man can do on his own. Watch it here.

Sagecutioner

Friday, September 25, 2015

5 Tips on How to Dress Like a True Metal Elitist

Coming to a metal show near you; and then every one after that.

Deth Leppard: Since the very first overdriven power chord rang out from the plucked strings of an amplified guitar, the genre of Heavy Metal has always been defined by its aesthetic along with its tone: long hair, denim, leather, spikes, chains, boots, makeup, body mods, extreme album artwork, jagged band logos, and the black on black, none more black attire. To speak of Metal sonically is to only tell half the story. Heavy Metal isn't simply a genre of music, but a way of life. Metal is its own culture. To even refer to it as a "counter-culture" would be to deny its awesome worldwide influence on the entertainment market. Metalheads aren't some group of underground ragtag rebels -- far from it -- we are a global force of listeners, consumers, event attendees, collectors and enthusiasts.   

Many folks will agree that you know a metalhead when you see one. People with a penchant for extreme music will often have the extreme look to match. Attend any live metal performance and you will bear witness to a sea of this concept in practice. Just think of the term "metalhead", and what sort of person comes to mind? Does he have long hair? Does his wallet have a chain? Is he wearing a denim vest covered in band patches? How about some redundant leather wrist wear? Studs, studs, and more studs? If any of this rings true as your definition of a metal fan, then congratulations, friend: you are a poseur thinking about other poseurs. 

"You mean this doesn't look cool?"

I can already sense your confusion from the other side of the internet. When I say "poseurs", I must be talking about those djenters and deathcore kids, right? Think again, Chandler Chinbeard. I'm talking about you "metal warrior" ultra twat tryhards with your stringy locks clinging desperately to a perpetually receding hairline. You dudes holding up horns with leather wrist straps that some overworked Chinese forgot to install a watch in at the sweatshop. I'm tired of your shit, you out-of-touch goofball. Whenever LeatherMetalSpikesAndChains clonks his black army boots across my path at a show, me and every self respecting metal fan in the vicinity rolls our eyes so completely fucking hard that they just about roll out of our bleeding sockets. It's 2015 already. Fuck you. Grow a personality. 

Look brother, I don't mean to be so harsh. It ain't your fault that you've been so misguided with proper metal attire. The "metal look" has been perpetuated throughout decades of shitty music played by shitty musicians who are all show and no substance along with their shittier fans. Bands like Satyricon have looked like Satyricon since the early 90's and people who listened to Satyricon always thought they were supposed to just dress like Satyricon at a Satyricon show. Or wherever else they ended up in life, like family holidays with their humiliated parents or bagging my fucking groceries at the only job they can get. 

It seems like the guys with the long hair, soul patches and leather jackets; these are the fruit loops that you'd expect to cry "false" more than anybody else in regards to others who listen to or play metal music. So it's easy for you to believe this is what makes them the "metal elitists".  But truth is, they're the biggest phonies of them all. You guys are wannabes 101. How are you gonna go around calling other people "poseurs" when you spend 45 minutes getting "geared up" to look like everybody else in your favorite music videos? I'm secure enough in my metalocity that I don't need to make a superficial spectacle of myself to everyone around me. You're not. Them's the fucking breaks, pal. I can exist as a human being with a modest sense of style while still listening to infinitely better metal music than you. I don't have to prove shit to anybody, because my shit is actually true.

I hear a lot of metal 'elitists' scoffing about "hipsters" ruining the genre with new music. These are the same people that listen to Fear Factory without batting an eyelash, mind you, but think of Liturgy as a complete farce. First, allow me to explain that "hipsters" are not a new thing. "Hipster" is just a new name for a type of individual that has always existed. So you can't call shit like Deafheaven or Kvelertak "hipster metal", just because of who's playing it. The person you're referring to is just a creative type or vaguely eccentric type from his generation. Someone who is following his or her current generation's trend in fashion and media. Leonardo Da Vinci, for example was not a "hipster".

Although it's debatable. 

To bring this concept to somewhere more relevant, Dave Mustaine didn't grow poofy long locks and wear ripped up jeans so he could go around looking metal. He just went to high school looking like that  -- and then subsequently band practice looking like that -- he was just existing with the look all the other nerds in 1980's high school had. That shit didn't make him metal. His musicality did. 

Dork.
Let this fact sink in deeper than you're tattoo ink and linger longer than you're body odor: you're not a rebel. You're just mainstream from 30 years ago. It's time to totally clear your mind of the falsity of the "metal warrior" look. From this point onward, that concept is dead in regards to true metal fandom. Put down the black nail polish, and stop picking out metal bands you like based on the length of their hair like a fucking idiot. You might think that's an unreasonable assumption to make about you turds, but I still find myself in conversations with guys that base the "great Metallica sellout" moment as the release of "Load". 

But what do I do? What should I wear if I want to look like a true metal defender of the faith?

Don't.

That's the secret. Fucking stop it. Be yourself. And no, bullet belts are not "yourself", Sepultura Steve. You have options now, so at least try to dress in a way that makes most women want to bang you, as opposed to just a select few women who are already banging guys that accomplish that very niche look a lot better than you. Do that shit and then just listen to metal music anyway. If you maintain an honest metal fandom without doing everything you can to look like a supreme edgelord; you'll get good jobs, make more money, and have more sweet moolah to buy records, band shirts, guitars or posters your wife/girlfriend won't let you hang up. If you happen to be a woman? Well, let's be honest; you couldn't walk around looking 'metal' in a band tee without getting quizzed by some spergoid piece of shit who didn't believe you knew anything about the band you were wearing, due completely to your vagina. It shouldn't be that way -- I know -- but you know how the ol' patriarchy goes, right? It just is that way. You might be allowed to vote now, but you're another century or so away, at least, from not being part of a deeply rooted culture where you're harassed about your grindcore tee. Sorry, ladies.

Ok. What are you still doing here? You're all set. Were you expecting a "top 10" or something? Do I need to break down a bullet-point list for you to fucking click on and read anything anymore? You sheep brained poseurs. No wonder you walk around looking so stupid. You have no proper guidance whatsoever. I suppose that's what I'm here for, so with the much appreciated input of Brenocide here's your step-by-step guide to how exactly you should dress yourself as proper metal snob who's true above all the rest:

1. Cut. Your. Fucking. Hair. 

Coming to a school shooting near you; and then everyone after that.

Deth Leppard: Yeah, I said it.

Brenocide: Oh boy. Shots fired.

Tuesday, September 22, 2015

Review: Satanic Cake Off

The Cakemageddon is upon us.

Want to know why this is better than something like Blackosh? Intent. The one time you can break the rule of what black metal is about is for intentional comedy. Where Blackosh comes off as steaming load of insincere bullshit using black metal as a pretense to make themselves look evil, Satanic Cake Off is up front about it's intentions. It doesn't grab my interest in a way that will make me keep coming back, but at least it isn't pretending to be something it isn't.

Satanic Cake Off, is a web series in which members of metal bands decorate a cake in an attempt to outdo Big Winter, the host of the show. A black metal song that describes the building of each cake is played as they are made and after they are finished the cakes are presented to concert goers to vote on and the losing cake is destroyed.

I appreciate the work put into it and I certainly think that when the right audience sees it Winter's work will really shine. Cake based antics may not give me a throbbing metal erection but it is sure to be enjoyed when seen by the right person. So go ahead and watch because, as Anthrax and Gwar have taught us, there is always a place for comedy in metal.

Sagecutioner

Monday, September 21, 2015

Review: Bring Me The Horizon - (Smells like) That's The Spirit


I hope you all learned a valuable lesson. I hope this hurts.

I'll admit I'm a pretty stubborn guy. If I decide I don't like somebody, the chances of me ever warming up to them is slim and slimmer. But now I can say that for the first time in my life, my heart goes out to a group of people I've spent a decent chunk of my existence completely loathing and disrespecting. A group of individuals that I never considered would be on the receiving end of my empathy and understanding. A collection of young folks who deserve not only my heartfelt condolences, but my undying sympathy.

I'm referring of course, to Bring Me The Horizon fans.

It was upon the release of 2008's Suicide Season, that I first got my chance to completely despise BMTH. Along with their shrieky, chuggy, chanty, by-the-book deathcore music, their fans came along for the ride of my animosity. The stretched earlobes, the viper bites, the cliche tattoos, the eye-covering, swoopy black hairdos. Scenesters through and through. Weirdos with a set of extreme high-school age sensibilities regarding life, love, hate and rebellion. At the time, BMTH was a bunch of children making music for children. Lead vocalist Oliver Sykes gave voice to the screaming in the heads of every sexually frustrated pubescent adolescent that wasn't willing to conform to the ease and general acceptance of pop radio taste.

And yet, despite the cartoons you all had scarred into your pale skin; time took its toll. The lot of you had to grow up, just as your parents always cautioned with every newly acquired haphazard body mod. You got whatever jobs you could with the newly formed, gaping anuses you've wrought upon your earlobes. You've already long since graduated from, or dropped out of college. Adult life is not only an abyss staring back at you from the edge, it is a black pit that has long since enveloped you years ago. As you desperately try to keep the college loansharks at bay with a measly Mcjob paycheck, you now reminisce back to a simpler, happier time: when you were still copping feels from allegedly willing, raccoon-eyed scene queens, and plugging your iPod Nano into the aux cord of the tape adapter in your hand-me-down Buick; still full of youth and vigor as you raced towards the local Hot Topic while blaring "The Comedown" at top volume with your windows down, purposefully upsetting the peace and quiet of the white suburbia that surrounded you.

It's the reason your dad gets pumped when he hears Led Zep's "Black Dog" for the 48 millionth fucking time on the radio. The music of your youth will always be important to you. But as previously stated, you're not a youth, you haven't been for a while; and BMTH's new music is now not for you. It's for a newer generation of pissed off teenagers who even at their edgiest, still greatly appreciate house music. The very artists that you once idolized are now preparing music for a younger, more open-minded, more well-rounded listener. A new mutant breed of teeny bopper growing up as part of the Spotify generation. Where any song from any artist from any genre of music is just a mouse click away, and it's a fucking miracle if they get through the several minutes of a single song to its completion. With That's The Spirit, BMTH totally accommodates these broad minded, all-loving, entitled little alternative fuckos, and just like 90% of your Facebook friends, BMTH stopped giving any sort of shit about you a little over seven years ago.

Just like many a rock/metal band before them, Bring Me The Horizon adjusted their sound to match the needs of a current demographic. They were once children making music for children, but now, they are men making music for children; in the same vein as Staind and Linkin Park in their prime.

So despair. I welcome thee, fellow poor, unfortunate souls.

Welcome to the sell out:





Well, we can easily call it a sell out. We can bark and hiss and moan and cry foul. It makes sense to say that the reason the bands of our youth so drastically change must be for the sake of continued commercial success. However, if you were to use your head -- you know, the thing you failed to do when you got that sweet ass Tommy Pickles tat -- you would realize that there was a time when BMTH spoke directly to you, when they got your money. And they did all this, when you were exactly a 17-year-old in 2008. If you, a former BMTH fan, is upset with their current musical direction, you only have yourself to blame for mindlessly enjoying these cunts and their edgy Kids Bop in the first place.

Don't feel too bad. Hormones make you stupid.

But you see, this is what BMTH does. They make 17-year-old kid music. There was never a moment in time when these young Englishmen weren't making music specifically for pissed off teenagers. A modern day high school sophomore who falls in love with a song like Throne is highly unlikely to go backwards in the band's discography and find much to enjoy with a song like Alligator Blood. The same is going to be true in the reverse situation. Every album they've released has gotten that much significantly softer, synthetic and various that they are not even remotely the band they were only half a decade ago.

However, can we not say the same of Metallica with their 90's alt-rock? Can we not demand to know from Morbid Angel how one goes about "killing a kult kult"? How can I, with a straight face. blame the irked BMTH fan when I felt that knot in my stomach twist upon hearing Mastodon's ballad of violent goat-related disagreements? Bands good and bad, true and false; they change all the time. Some only to stay current, some for the sake of artistic endeavor. While most will purport the latter in these circumstances, it's often times too easy to tell when the former is true. That's The Spirit is an extreme example of blatant popification. The album cover to cover is chock full of hard rock, uber-catchy, hook-laden, electronic thumping, radio friendly alternative anthems. It's so genre bending from track to track, it may as well be the aforementioned Spotify playlist that BMTH's current demographic lives by. There's simply no way a BMTH fan of former albums can listen to this music and enjoy it. If they outright suggest otherwise, they are Randy Marsh-esque hasbeens clinging desperately to the concept of staying current, so as to stave off the inevitable reaper known as adulthood. This isn't your music anymore. No. It's something much younger, much fresher, and much much worse. Move on and grow up. Take it from any one of us old fart former Slayer fans, it only goes downhill from here.

You know times are tough when I can be disappointed by a band I already very much hated. I'm sorry BMTH fans. You deserved some terrible things, but nobody deserves this.

- Deth Leppard 
  

Saturday, September 12, 2015

Some Metal News: In Which Jaygular Will Piss Off 90% Of You

Like most metal hermits, I don't pay attention to current events, even if they're related to metal. Cynic's breaking up? Good. Their music was so pretentious Varg Vikernes was biting his lip in perpetuity. Donald Trump is a candidate for presidency? So what, he's probably the most honest potential president you dullards have had. He's an asswipe and he makes no effort to hide it, just like pretty much all of you Americans.

I seriously could not give that much of a shit about all this. Knowing about something unmetal, whether you like it or despise it, will invariably make you unmetal, even in the slightest. I had no idea something unrepentantly asinine like Metalachi existed, and thanks to Sagecutioner, I have something else to hate, and am forever tarnished, even if it is slightly so.

On a slightly more serious note, the past few weeks have been kinda putting the classic (translation: popular) bands in the spotlight. Albums released, tours announced, and the sort. Since I'm here out from under my rock, and not having my own band, I'll talk shit about some of it.

Iron Maiden - The Book of Souls

Fuck, even the album cover's lazy.

This has to be the weakest album they've released in the last 15 years, and this is a band that put out A Matter of Life and Death. It just drones on and on, Bruce Dickinson's voice is good for it's age, but he's just falling back into the same old routines that he's been doing since Dance of Death, and there's still so few good riffs per song, it's just lazy.

Can we all come together and just admit that their last, good, cohesive album was Brave New World? That album was a fucking monster, and now they're just a shadow of themselves with Janick Gers fairy hopping around stage, Steve Harris milking the same god damned bassline as if nobody's heard Run to the Hills, and...fuck it, I don't need another reason. These guys have been riding on their past success for a decade and a half.

Motörhead - Bad Magic

FUCK.

I actually haven't listened to a single god damned note of this album, nor have I read any reviews, or even seen the cover art before finding it for this article. I just know that it's perfect because it's fucking Motörhead, god damn it. The day that someone presents me with a bad Motörhead album is the day that I skullfuck a lying bastard until they get a lung infection.

Black Sabbath - The End

It ended five years ago, just let it die already.

So, Black Sabbath's final tour, eh? Figures, they don't exactly have the resolve of Lemmy, I'm not surprised that they'd go out-they're doing it with Ozzy? And just like that, you lost me. No, I am not denying the Ozzy Osbourne era as wildly influential on heavy metal as a whole, and more specifically, doom metal. Yes, I like some of those albums. Yes, I even like the first couple solo records of Ozzy... Not enough to get me to listen to them again, but I do. And yes, I really like 13 a lot. No, the album, not the age of Roman Polanski's preferred fuck.

Do you know what I like more? EVERY OTHER ERA OF BLACK SABBATH. The Dio years kick the shit out of every other Black Sabbath release, that's including The Devil You Know. "Oh, but they changed the name-" fuck you. Heaven & Hell was Black Sabbath and you know it. When Iommi brought in Tony Martin, Black Sabbath became one of the most awesome, pure, uncut, black tar heavy metal bands you will ever hear. The Seventh Star (Which for the record is actually Tony Iommi's first solo album) was the progenitor to that with Glenn Hughes' bluesy tone gliding in and out of each verse. And don't even get me started on the pounding, groove ridden musical heroin that is Born Again.

Here's the thing. Ozzy is not a talented vocalist, nor is he a decent writer by any standards. Can he sing? Sure, why not. Is he a good singer? Fuck the hell no. Witchfinder General is practically a carbon copy of Black Sabbath, but even if their vocalist is a rip off of Ozzy, he's still a better one, and can actually cut past that annoying nasally whine. "So what? I'm going there for Black Sabbath-" Fuck you, no you're not. You're going to go see Ozzy songs, not Black Sabbath. Queen fans have to put up with this same kind of bullshit. You wanna hear Ogre Battle, Sheer Heart Attack and The Hitman? Oh, I'm sorry, our current vocalist has trouble hitting notes that aren't flat! Now lets play all the songs from our greatest hits album!

And it's not just that Ozzy can't sing songs from other albums, he has no interest in actually trying any of them. Yeah, there's no way he could hit the dog whistle notes of Ian Gillian or leather lung fury of Dio, but he doesn't even want to make an attempt to own the song himself. I give Iron Maiden a hard time for being lazy, but Ozzy Osbourne? He contributed jack and shit to the original albums and the only two solo albums of his worth listening to. Ozzy and his fans can suck my balls, is the point I'm trying to get across here.

Lemmy Cutting Shows Short and Dropping Dates



In a world where the metal heroes of old take extended tour breaks and release a new album roughly when enough of their fans die, Motörhead has been boldly lifting the finger and shouting "No, motherfuckers, THIS is how it's done!". But I'm saddened to admit that those days may be over. And not in the way I want it. Recently, Lemmy had to cut a few shows after only playing a few songs, and even halfway through them. Then he had to flat out cancel some shows.

Fortunately for fans, after taking the bafflingly wise move to go to a doctor, Lemmy discovered that he had a lung infection aggravated by some high altitude or air pressure crap. So now he's back on the road. Fans have been shouting on social media to get Lemmy to take a fucking break already because they want to wring some more years out of the guy. So far, He's taken the infinitely more metal (or in his case, Rock 'n' Roll) decision to say "Fuck you, I'm gonna do it anyway.". This warms my heart, and I hope he gets sick again soon.

Now, before you all jump down my throat, you need to bear with me. Lemmy has been writing, recording, drinking, smoking, snorting, touring and fucking for over four decades. He has not stopped for long since. Not only does this god of steel and stone seem immortal, it's more than likely a fact. But it's inevitable that he's going to go out. And there's only one way for it to happen.

Lemmy needs to die on stage.

I'm not trying to be mean, cruel, or morbid, but GOD DAMN IT. LEMMY. NEEDS. TO DIE. ON STAGE. Not just because it's a popular prediction among fans, colleagues ranging from Tony Iommi to Rob Halford, or even because it's the only thought that gives me an erection nowadays. He needs to die on stage because it will literally be the most metal moment of all time. From here till the supernova of our star, not a single thing shall possibly match it! I don't care if you turn into a giant demonic grizzly bear to uppercut a cyborg Jörmungandr while Bal-Sagoth are playing a concert, you will NEVER. FUCKING. TOP THAT. Allow me to capture your imagination for a brief moment.

Motörhead has finished their set. Winding down from playing louder than they ever have, the valley they're playing in forever smelling of whiskey and vodka, they begin to finish Overkill. The crowd is shouting, they can barely hear their own cries through the tinnitus and bedlam. But as the distortion fades for the second to last time, Phil and Mikkey look at Lemmy, then at each other. They know what's about to happen. With a look of steeled resolve, they stand their ground and continue. Lemmy looks up at the crowd, a cigarette appearing in his mouth out of nowhere. He smiles like a fucking maniac and unleashes his bass solo to Overkill.

They keep going, never have they sounded more excellent, never have they rocked harder and never has the crowd been more at their mercy. Lightning begins to touch down, scorching an unlucky fan here and there, but nobody cares. The stage begins to ascend to the skies on a pillar of stone, forming into a mountain. They finish the song, everyone in attendance is reduced to man tears as they see the most metal human being about to leave them. The very SECOND the sound leaves their amps, when Lemmy looks over his world one final time, the lightning reaches his beckoning middle finger and he disappears in a flash of blinding metal light.

A shockwave of pure metal erupts, no longer being bound to a physical vessel. It permeates the world, cleansing the land of poseurs and people with no metal within themselves. Only those who are metal are spared to inherit the earth.

Or you selfish fans can have him die in a nursing home after releasing a couple more albums.

Friday, September 11, 2015

Preview: Blackosh - Whores, Booze & Black Metal


 Blackosh, keepin' it classy.


On November 27th Iron Bonehead releases the first album by Blackosh: Whores, Booze & Black Metal. Should you buy it? I wouldn't.

Peklo nás baví is the first preview track released so far, and it does nothing for me. It feels like some weird cross between black metal and Motley Crue. Not so much in the way the music sounds, but in the way it treats it's subject matter based on the album art and bio that I was sent. Here's a sample: "Whores, Booze & Black Metal brims with that same electricity, a black METAL record that stomps ‘n’ surges with an addictive catchiness – and much like its title, there’s no small amount of devilish fun to be had. ". Sounds like a long way of saying black n' roll, though they manage to avoid the Kvelertak trap of sounding like punk rock with black metal vocals, they definitely still sound like a black n' roll band. They may fall within the sounds of actual black metal but it feels like the antithesis of the genre to sing about sex drugs and rock n' roll.

Here's another gem: "However, Blackosh is more than simply a “retro” trip or retread of past glories. If anything, the manner in which these almost-anthems are rendered – cold, dead, even industrialized – bespeaks a desire to assault the listener with the most un-human of textures, drawing a line in the sand between party time and nuclear fallout.". I didn't find anything in that description within the song I actually listened to except party-time. I have a feeling that if I knew what he was saying, it would be something along the lines of how "super awesome" it is to drink and gang bang a bunch of drunk sluts with Satan.

Black metal isn't about drugs, sex, and fun. It's about satanism, paganism, occultism, hatred, war, and death. Want to make a black metal album? Pick something vaguely related to one of those terms, record 300 copies to create forced scarcity, and sell it on the internet. The fewer copies you make the more trv metalheads will want it. Euronymous should have spent less time planning to murder Varg Vikernes and did more to stop this kind of thing from happening to his genre after he died. It's to be expected though. When I saw the album cover a couple weeks back and noticed that there was a blow job on it I had no illusions about what was on the other side of that play button and so I kept pushing it off to the back of my list. It was better than I expected, but if the rest of the album sounds like this you would be better off saving your money for an actual hooker. The most lasting impression I got was the blowjob and a real bj would be a better memory than this.

Sagecutioner

Hey Metal Bands: Grow Up When you Break Up



Hey guys, just a quick post from my phone weighing in about all the recent Cynic drama.

I'm not gonna mince words here: musicians are babies. Young, naïve, stupid, jaded and entitled. Sometimes, not even young, despite actions that would make you believe otherwise. Cynic is just the latest example of the sort of immature assclownery we've come to expect from artists of any status or age. These are people we once respected, if only out of ignorance of their character. Social media has changed that. The concept of PR is essentially dead. Famous people have smartphones now. They have Facebook, they have Twitter. They, like anybody these days, are just a few thumb taps away from exposing their true colors to the world.

These people I once looked up to, are no longer my idols, my legends. They're just assholes. Assholes like everybody else. Usually more so than everybody else. Glorious they may be at their craft, as human beings they are totally fallible and flawed.

Recently The Metal Archives added "Disputed" as a band status. I find this fucking disgusting. Not on the part of Metal Archives, of course, but on the part of the band members' actions on social media that have made this addition very necessary. What's there to "dispute" about? If you guys can't come to terms with each other regarding someone in the band or everyone in the band, break up. Or, kick the offending member out. It's a joke that something like "Venom INC" exists. Either be Venom or be something else. 

But if you're gonna kick someone out. Put your big boy pants on and say it to their fucking face. At least pick up the phone and call them. Have a conversation. There was no excuse regarding the fact that David Vincent was the dead last guy to know he was out of Morbid Angel. The rest of the world heard all about it before he did. 

How the hell does that happen? How have we developed into this culture where we air our grievances to the rest of the world about someone before airing our grievances to that someone? This Cynic nonsense is on the exact maturity level of letting your high school sweetheart know she's been dumped by ending the relationship status on Facebook. The public back and forth between Masvidal and Reinert that ensued afterwards was even worse. 

You guys are professional musicians, so start acting like professionals. If you want to break up the band, don't tell me. Don't tell Joe Shmoeback from Ontario. Don't tell your Aunt posting cat pictures. Tell the goddamn band. Tell the people you developed a working relationship with for years. 

Sort out your business with each other like adults. Until then, it isn't any of ours. 

Happy 9/11

- Deth Leppard

.

Saturday, September 5, 2015

Yeah, You Go Rock Out in The Crowd, You Flaming Rockstar

The other week I was at The Metal Coalition show in Abbotsford. I was originally going to stay for the whole night to write an article on it, but I was tired, and at this point in my metal life, I feel like I go to local shows just to be unimpressed. Sure, The Fraser Valley has a metal scene, and not a completely bad one at that. But when we get a crappy core band playing a show, MAN are they crappy. I'm not gonna name names, partly because I couldn't be arsed to remember if I tried, and primarily to cover my ass when people here eventually start to read whatever I write.

I originally came just to see my friend's band play, but then that disintegrated into hanging out with my friends, but Beth and Conan couldn't/didn't show up. So that's pretty much half of my friends gone. (I'd explain who they are right now, but I don't give a fuck I already talked about who Conan was in my own blog, I may repost/shit polish it for here, but whatever, fuck you) Then I told myself that I'm coming here to kill a night with some booze and tinnitus so I'd actually sleep for the first time this month.

Anyway, as this band was following an incredibly bland mallcore act with a lineup that looked like your average cheetoh binging Call of Duty players, they hit the stage with their equally visually unappealing dorks and bland mallcore. I was trying to hold a conversation with a friend, when Rick (the aforementioned guy who's in one of the bands) tapped my shoulder. Well, he was smacking it, but it felt more like tapping.

Rick: Are you seeing this guy?

Me: What?

Rick: He almost knocked over that amp!

It was at this point I finally glanced towards the stage. Whereas the first band's "singer" was firmly planted in one spot, leg affixed to his single amp, this jackoff was spinning about in the crowd like a fucking queen. He was jumping off and on the 2 inch high stage, shaking the rails MEANT TO PROTECT THE AMPS, and haphazardly spinning the mic around by the cord. The mic that belonged to the venue, by the way. It fell into the crowd more than three times during their thirty minute set, and this guy was clearly not giving a crap about it breaking.

You'd think this blatant disregard for authority and the establishment would be metal, or maybe punk, but this doyle was practically prancing about, putting his band's gear, the venue's gear, and the fragile young minds of newly turned 19 metalheads at risk. But he was also doing something else that I find annoying.

This is an incredibly new band, and the douchenozzle at the front was interacting with the crowd like they're the hottest shit on the planet.

 Picture this with less tattoos, more gut, body hair, and a distaste for any decency.

It's something that most metal bands have to accept as soon as they form, something that they all need to come to terms with as they put their hands in a lame circle, stare longingly into the chick bassist's eyes and say "lets do this". They need to understand that there's a 99% chance of them not "making it". This means that no matter how fucking hard they try, they'll probably never do a show outside of their province/state. So you gotta make sure you got some humility. I have an ego the size of fucking Africa, and even I know this, but apparently the fatass flower child wrapping the microphone around his amorphous mass didn't get the fucking memo.

What, are those people your backup dancers?! Fuck off!

Unless you're full blown metal heroes, beloved underground bands, or local darlings who've been around for ages, you do not deserve the privilege to sing right in front of a concert goer's face, perform your guitar solo on the edge of the pit, or other such off stage fuckery. You stand on the stage, play your shit like a respectable band that's here to represent their people. This abhorrence all culminated with the landwhale removing his shirt to the horror of all in attendance.

 ...Pretty sure this picture was used on this blog before, but it fits better here.

Then the guy left the stage... halfway into their last song. I think he went off to get a drink or something in the other room. I'm not kidding, he just fucked off. I guess this was an instrumental part of the song, but a minute later, he came back doused in what I hoped was either sweat or water. Finally, after much tribulation, the catastrophe was over.

At least in terms of the upright beluga presenting himself to us.

The next band has been around a lot longer, but their vocalist was all up in everyone's face. He swayed left and right to their opening song which was the most nu metal thing I have ever heard locally. He sang in front of everyone's faces in what could be called a pit. Not a single one was spared.

He would catch someone's disgusted face out of the corner of his eye, and instantly latch on to them. Then he'd use his free hand to grasp the back of his victim's head and would damn near go Brokeback on the guy. After that atrocity, their next song was much better. And by that, I mean I detected nothing remotely nu, or core about it.

It was as jarring as a pair of pornstar's tits in the middle of a sermon. They played a Thrash, somewhat punk set after their opening song, and never once leaped into the crowd again, proving once and for all that false music breeds false tendencies. After a few more bands, I left, just before my friends were going to play. I would've stayed, but I was sick of the shit I would've inevitably seen after their set, and I didn't need another reason to hate myself.

Some of you guys in bands are probably wondering how you'd know when you can break the chain between you and the crowd. I'll answer your question with another question.

Are you Steve Kudlow?



I ask again, are you Steve "Lips" Kudlow?



ARE YOU FUCKING LIPS?!



Have you toiled away at your craft, finely honing your songs to a shine, playing your heart out for something that you can't possibly make a living from, earning a massive amount a fans and been persevering for years on end despite anything and everything telling you to stop?!

No?! Well get your fairy ass back on stage!!!

Friday, September 4, 2015

Review: Nýr Gata - Seraphim

"Guys, we need a band logo."
"I just took a massive, bloody Taco Bell shit all over my pet lobster."
"Say no more."

Look, I know it's part of the unwritten code of trv metal that we're not supposed to talk about this, but can we all drop the facade here for one quick second and just admit that none of us actually enjoy metal? Jesus Christ, I cannot remember the last time I actually heard a metal song that brought me anything even approximating joy. No one cruises down a sun-kissed winding coastal road with the top down in a show of vigorous youthful enthusiasm with Bathory blasting from their sound system. No one's putting Sylosis in a fucking tampon commercial.

 Metal is not fun. It is hard work. Anybody who claims to enjoy listening to metal is either a Trivium fan or mentally handicapped. Listening to metal is a constant battle to find and consume music that nobody you know has ever heard of so you can start hating it by the time anyone else has the sheer audacity to think about getting excited over new heavy metal music.

To put it another way, if your friends have heard of and/or listened to a band or album, you can never listen to and enjoy that band's music. Enjoying music that someone else has heard is the textbook least metal thing a person can ever do, because as everyone knows, quality of music is inversely proportional to their fan base. This is why the 14 year old kid next door practicing Metallica riffs alone in his garage with his headphones on is scientifically speaking the greatest metal band in the world.

It's in the spirit of this indisputable law of the metal world that, once or twice a week, I jump on Bandcamp and randomly listen to and follow bands in the Heavy Metal tag so that I can get the ball rolling on their inevitable and violent downfall.

No, it's fine, you don't have to thank me.

Enter Nýr Gata. I despise how every reviewer on the planet feels the need to David Copperfield the shit out of each and every underground band they write reviews for, so if you want to know who the lads from NG are and what they had for breakfast this morning, you can fucking Google it, chump.

All you need to know about this band is that they're a black/death band from Germany and that I clicked on their latest (and first) release, Seraphim, in full anticipation of it being an under-produced cookie cutter blowhard mess. Just look at their album cover. The originality of it is so scrotum-ulceratingly intense that when I first laid my eyes upon it that I had a minor stroke and may never be able to get a boner again. 'Oh goodie,' I thought to myself, 'an album I get to hate, not just to be a contrarian prick, but because it's actually going to be shit. Might even write a review of it for TNM and let out some of that vitreol I build up in my 9-5'.

You simply cannot imagine my surprise and bitter, pained disappointment when Seraphim turned out to be a really fucking sweet album from which I have not been able to pry myself. Upon making this discovery I was faced with the dilemma mentioned above, and it truly is a testament to the surprising adoration I have for this record that I have decided to talk about it even though that means I am now required to deny that I ever listened to it.

The production is pretty tight by the (admittedly disgracefully low) standard of Bandcamp bedroom metal bands, the lads manage to balance the black-death thing quite well considering most bands in the same vein tend to sway unevenly one way or the other and the entire experience is nothing short of utterly satisfying, and the whole thing was made by two dudes.

It's not perfect, the first song kinda blows, and they're clearly not here to break new ground, but what we have here is an album that surpasses many of the contributions of groups in the genre who have become metal mainstays (and if Acheron doesn't completely blow your balls off, you and I have nothing further to discuss). It's impossible to understand one single fucking word of the album unless you're a native German speaker, but for most blackened death metal bands, lyrical impenetrability is pretty much par for the course.

We have something of a policy here at TNM about not turning reviews into biblical length circle jerks, so you can make up your own mind about Seraphim, but all I'll say is that if you don't like it, you can fellate my exhaust pipe. The whole thing is streaming for literally zero fucking dollars on their BandCamp page.

-Jimmolation

Update: the guys at NG's label read my review and aside from being all round super sweet dudes they are sending me some free shit, so I guess that's it. Show's over. TNM has sold out.