You Fail Me: Nikki Sixx

Man, I can't even tell you the cloak and dagger shit young me had to perpetrate just to peep some naked lady pictures. Dudes over 20 years of age, you feel me: The biological need for open-mouthed knocker-gawking transformed each of us into master thieves, lockpicks, and liars. I started no fewer than two house fires to see the good scene in Just One Of The Guys for fuck's sake.

Times have changed, thank you internets. I don't know my sister's middle name, but assemble a line-up and I could identify dozens of celebrity vaginas from about 50 feet. At dusk. 

That said, I'd give up Megan Fox (above) and the internet tomorrow if someone could stop Nikki Sixx from making records, the brainless hack. Motley Crue's new embarrassment Saints Of Los Angeles is a vomitous, contrived chunk of shit. And Sixx: A.M., counterpart to the bimbo's wildly implausible addiction memoirs, succeeded only in making me feel sorry for heroin. Poor heroin. 

Metal In 2008: The Half-Year In Half-Review

As the month of June comes to a close, we at HooM! reflect on the year 2008 thus far. There have been ups (reunions for Carcass, Forbidden, and At The Gates; the rise of Ana Ivanovic) and downs (Amy Winehouse sapping Earth's drug supply, a new Disturbed album), strikes (Kobe Bryant MVP, my new watch) and gutters (a Lakers defeat in the NBA finals, Oreo Cakesters). Anthrax is back (and shitty). Nine Axl Rose songs leak (assuredly setting back a Chinese Democracy release by 16 months). And, of course, a whole bunch of natural disasters and stuff. Which is eerie since 2008 has been a terrific metal year to this point. Coincidence? Surely.

THE BEST METAL OF 2008 through June 30
Presented By Hipsters Out Of Metal!
In no order because I'm not done listening to the damn shit yet ok?
  • Hate Eternal, Fury & Flames (Metal Blade)
  • Protest The Hero, Fortress (Vagrant)
  • Testament, The Formation Of Damnation (Nuclear Blast)
  • Arsis, We Are The Nightmare (Nuclear Blast)
  • Nachtmystium, Assassins: Black Meddle, Part 1 (Century Media)
  • Origin, Antithesis (Relapse)
And that doesn't count the semi-digested records from Byzantine, Opeth, Aborted, Kataklysm, and Scar Symmetry because, what, should I quit my goddamn job? 

Living The 'High Life' With Testament

Man, there was a time when mainstream media and big business wouldn't be seen in the same time zone as Satan-worshipping, baby-eating, daughter-violating Metal bands. But not only was legendary Bay Area thrash band Testament recently featured in MTV's 52/52 thingy, but Blabbermouth reports today that free Testament downloads are getting to those who need them most: honest, everyday, beer-swilling joes! 

As of 'right now,' arguably the two best songs from the quintet's acclaimed new album, The Formation Of Damnation, are available for download at Miller High Life's hideous website. I got about five minutes into the registration process and bailed. (No, I don't agree to the Miller High Life Extras Loyalty Program Terms And Conditions.) I defy anyone to outlast me. Or drink an entire High Life. 

Viva La Ratt: John Corabi Is A Pro; Stephen Pearcy Loves Tequila

In the topsy-turvy world of heavy rock, there are slobbering dumbshits like Ratt vocalist Stephen Pearcy and there are rock-solid showstealers/-savers like Ratt rhythm guitarist John Corabi (ex-Motley Crue, The Scream). From Blabbermouth:
Ratt was forced to cut short its Friday, June 27 concert in Monterrey, Mexico, after lead singer Stephen Pearcy appeared to be incapacitated and was unable to complete the show. At one point, Pearcy lost his balance and fell into the crowd before being helped back to the stage by the venue's security personnel, only to fall backwards. He then got up and resumed singing as if nothing had happened. 

After performing for about 50 minutes, the band abruptly left the stage and reappeared a few minutes later, this time without Pearcy. Rhythm guitarist John Corabi, who is best known for having replaced Vince Neil as the frontman for Motley Crue in the early 1990s, apologized to the crowd and blamed the mishap on "jet lag" before taking over on lead vocals for a few tracks, including a couple of solo numbers and the Ratt songs "Body Talk" and "Round and Round".
Boy, it's sad that Ratt guitarist Warren DeMartini's livelihood is tied to batshit insane Pearcy. The universally-loved Corabi, on the other hand, is especially cool halfway through this clip when he gently reminds the Monterrey crowd of rock concert etiquette guidelines: 'Drinking? Ok. Fucking? Ok. Fighting? No fighting!' 


Slipknot and Colin Richardson: Together At Last

We at HooM! have our weaknesses, the most immediately distressing being our love of producers -- y'know, the faceless guys paid to crack the whip in the studio and iron out (or at least contextualize) the many, many questionable tendencies of egomaniacal musicians. It's a bit simplistic to say producers make bands better; a more accurate description would be that good producers help bands transition: from live to recording, from enthusiastic to measured, from disorganized art to essential product. 

Our long-standing policy at HooM! has been automatic purchase of albums helmed by master producer Colin Richardson. There've been some vetoes (Bullet For My Valentine, The Exploited, Sugarcoma) but mostly kudos (Carcass' Necroticism, Napalm Death's Diatribes) and even some nice surprises, like whinecore wimps Funeral For A Friend's debut and the short-lived and roundly hated Scat Opera (the band who, at Milwaukee Metalfest in 1992, got booed only slightly less than Rikki Rachtman and Keanu Reeves' Dogstar).

Count it as encouraging that Slipknot has Richardson on board (ha) to mix their forthcoming album, Fuck Your Yankee Blue Jeans.* This album might actually sound good, a first for the Iowa nonet. 

UPDATE: Though Slipknot plans to unveil their new masks next week, sources have cleared HooM! to reveal two of the nine, the masks worn by drummer Joey Jordison and singer Corey Taylor.

*May not be actual title

Rock Or Perish: Scar Symmetry

Scar Symmetry is set to release their third album, Holographic Universe, on Tuesday. You're thinking 'Hey, I already listen to Soilwork' or 'Yuck. Their name is both emo (scar) and prog (symmetry).' That's what I was thinking until Holographic Universe retorted with a dozen brilliant songs. In my face. It just goes to show: For every Dark Wankquility, there's a Scar Symmetry.

Check out the fourth installment of Nuclear Blast's very cool Holographic Universe album trailer below. Or perish. See if I care.

Trailer parts one two three


Burrrrn: Shaq Freestyles, Kobe Polishes MVP Trophy

We loudmouth jerks usually stick together, and I love cheap shots, but it'd be tough to defend Phoenix Suns' center Shaquille O'Neal and this week's, ahem, 'freestyle rap.' There are better MCs doing fast food commercials, but that doesn't stop a clueless O'Neal from leading a roomful of sycophants in a rousing chorus of the holiday favorite "Kobe, Tell Me How My Ass Taste."

O'Neal's, shudder, 'rhymes' also make pointed mention of the Laker guard's defeat in the NBA Finals last week; I'm no scientist, but since O'Neal's Suns lost horribly in the first round of the playoffs, the dumbshit might consider zipping it. Instead, he displays at least one trait also found in real MCs (a total disconnect from reality), stating that 'Kobe can't do without' O'Neal's out-of-shape, immobile, offensive-fouling lard ass. Oh, and that Bryant is somehow responsible for his 2007 divorce. Um. What?

Asked for comment, O'Neal downplayed the outlandish claims as 'what MCs do.' Like he'd know. Come to think of it, he did precisely what awful MCs do: mention Biggie a lot, stumble around, and go for cheap laughs that don't stand up to the most superficial scrutiny. Plus, the guy is a fucking cop! Yeah, how hip-hop can you get?

Well, real NBA heads are enjoying a hearty guffaw as O'Neal is stripped of his beloved law enforcement officer status this week. From ESPN
Bedford County Sheriff Mike Brown said Wednesday that he has asked the Phoenix Suns center to return a badge he was given for his work with the southwest Virginia county's Internet Crimes Against Children Task Force. The decision comes one day after a sheriff in Arizona asked O'Neal to return a special deputy's badge because of language he used in the rap.
The closest thing to a Metal diss is Metallica's cheap shot at Iron Maiden's 'Run To The Hills' on their Garage Days Re-Revisited EP. When is Overkill gonna write a diss track about Avenged Sevenfold?

Forbidden Is Back, Loves Flangers

Sure, it's a bummer that Bay Area Thrash band Forbidden wasn't huge back in the day, despite some nice MTV support. Sophomore album Twisted Into Form is a classic, all spidery guitars, propulsive drumming, and the taunting, accusatory vocals of Russ Anderson. On the bright side, lack of mega-success made Forbidden an important weapon in the fight to expose non-Metal people in hiding: Any hipster can obscure his or her true identity by claiming Metallica or Slayer fandom, but upon mention of 'tweener' bands like Forbidden, Vio-Lence, Death Angel, or Cyclone Temple, non-Metal people will blink vacantly, stammer, and self-destruct. All that remains is a pile of ashes and some thick-rimmed glasses. From Blabbermouth:

FORBIDDEN "Twisted Into Form" Live
June 24 08  Maribor, Slovenia's Stuk


Why? Why!? WHY???!!! Special Edition: Metal Below The Law

America is awesome because sexy millionaire sluts careen drunkenly through the streets with impunity (except in Hawaii). Similarly, Australia is rad because you get arrested for wearing a Cradle Of Filth shirt. From Australia's Herald Sun:
A Gold Coast teenager has been charged for wearing a blasphemous t-shirt degrading Jesus. The boy, 16, was stopped by police in Biggera Waters after he was spotted wearing a t-shirt [that reads] "Jesus is a cunt" and depicts a nun masturbating.
One of my high school English teachers was this limpdick wannabe who, in a pathetic attempt to ingratiate himself with nubile high school chicks and their vaginas, kept an acoustic guitar in his classroom. Once, he and a classmate of mine treated us to an impromptu rendition of the Crowded House hit "Don't Dream It's Over." This atrocity saw no repercussions and yet Swedish Metalhead/Blodsrit guitarist Emil Koverot is preemptively dismissed from a cushy teaching job! Justice? You be the judge. From Sweden's The Local:
A hard rocking teacher who was fired before ever setting foot in a classroom has lodged a discrimination complaint with Sweden’s Ombudsman of Justice (JO). 
“[My dismissal was based] on my participation in a hard rock band, something that couldn’t be accepted by other staff, or by the student’s parents,” wrote Koverot in his complaint to JO. 
“The principal felt that my band [Blodsrit] was so highly immoral that he advised against me ever devoting myself to leading a classroom.”
Summer must be slow season for the FBI. They have time to act as enforcers for Rose N' Roses frontman Axl Rose, which Antiquiet blogger Kevin Skwerl found out this week. I guess it's extra illegal to leak Axl Rose's shit. From Rolling Stone:
Yesterday, Skwerl was surprised to find himself face to face with two FBI agents who paid a visit to his day job. “It was kind of an ambush,” Skwerl tells Rolling Stone. “When I came back from lunch they were waiting in the lobby for me. It’s a little creepy they know where I work.” Two young FBI officers, who Skwerl describes as “Mulder and Scully types,” questioned him for 15 minutes about where he got the tracks and made plans to visit his house at 7:00 a.m. this morning.


Poached Web Exclusive: Textures Live In Amsterdam

Speaking of Metal Sucks: The reinvigorated prog-metal scene may have lost an top-tier band when England's Sikth announced their demise. But the universe has realigned thanks to the emergence of Dutch technical metal sextet Textures. You see, opinionated dickholes like me will avoid bands with awful names (like, say, Textures), but Metal Sucks' tireless efforts forced me to love them. 'Cause they're awesome! Thanks, Vince!

HooM! Presents Poaches 
Textures Live in Amsterdam
(Full Concert)

Metal Sucks Rules: A HooM! Shout-Out

I'm an elitist jerk and therefore it's my practice to quietly refrain from bonding with the thousands of metal people who've attended the same shows, shopped at the same record stores, and barfed off the same balconies as me. My high school boasted this killer clan of smiley heshers (replete with rusty van), but from my high horse, it appeared they favored pot over metal. Which seemed like a justifiable deal-breaker for some reason. Those cats were probably intimidated by my startling beauty anyway. It's my cross to bear.

Anyway, it's clear that a reversal of HooM! social policy is in order, as the awesome guys at Metal Sucks did the equivalent of inviting me into their sky blue Econoline for a bong load by posting this.

Justice For Dimebag Darrell: Stop The Adness

I may have a giant stick up my ass today but that doesn't change the fact that the March 2008 issue of Guitar World represents a major low point for Metal. The magazine's umpteenth tribute to Dimebag Darrell Abbott might not have started as a reprehensible cash-in sanctioned by bandmate/brother Vinnie Paul and widow Rita Haney, willing participants. But it got majorly ugly: Paul has transformed into a nightmarish used car salesman, favoring a George Jones-meets-stripper wardrobe and shamelessly hawking all sorts of crap with Dime's name on it; Haney, for her part, tainted her opportunity to personally eulogize one of Metal's greatest figures by hurling specious accusations at asshole Phil Anselmo (duh).

So a sensitive topic spun out on Guitar World; it happens. And, sure, a traumatized family is prone to weirdness. There's a way to make it up to everybody, though: Though Dime's death was more than three years ago, that hasn't stopped unconscionable guitar gear companies from continuously using him to sell shit, following the Jimi Hendrix Estate model. Magazines like Guitar World rely on ad revenues, but if they respect Dime (and his fans, friends, family) like they claim to all the fucking time, they'd bar ads exploiting Dime's image and let the man rest in peace. Haney and the Abbott family, on their side, need to junk their DimeVision shit and cease licensing Dime's memory to the lowlifes. Sorry if I sound all breathless and shrill, but Dime meant a lot to Metal people and doesn't deserve to be reduced to a brand name. Think of the children.

'Exhume To Consume, Mate': Carcass

Today, Metal gods Carcass announced a New York show (at the Nokia Theater with Suffocation!) in addition to a brief run of Australian tour dates, allaying fears that the band would play exclusively at those stupid festivals in Europe. Maybe I'm a failure, but Europe might as well be Mars since the plane ticket alone is only slightly cheaper than booking Carcass to play my roof. I tapped a source re: more US dates; his answer was 'idk'. You heard it here first!

Voivod Lives: Live At Heavy MTL

Faced with a minimum foreign language requirement at my uppity high school, I chose French. Call me naive, but my reasoning was that Voivod would someday enlist me for guitar duties. And even though I'd later discover that Quebecois French (spoken by Voivod) is pretty dissimilar to Parisian French (taught by Mme G.) and I didn't learn shit and this guy stole my spot in Voivod anyway, I stand by my decision as I was one of three dudes and French language is a documented vagina-moistener. Learn from me, young people.


RIP George Carlin, Comic of Metal

"We're all fucked. It helps to remember that."
-- George Carlin, 1937-2008

In our half-quest to expose and disgrace the lying, grasping dickbags of the world, comic George Carlin was an invaluable ally. Armed with a laser-calibrated bullshit detector and an unapologetically foul mouth, Carlin was unafraid to use comedy to strike down myths and depose their purveyors. And, like Lenny Bruce, he did all this when gasped admonishments would derail any subject more confrontational than women drivers or doctor bills, never mind that there was a fucking war going on. 

Media will rush to offer gooey memorials, illustrating the pure confusion of Carlin's iconic status as reported by those he would've been happy to taser in the nuts daily. No; the real tributes are out there, people, every time an amateur Carlin hurls vulgar absurdities at pro-life ghouls, every time a shaggy malcontent farts loudly and toxically at a snooty organic supermarket, and every time some delusional pew-humper is jolted by the whipcrack of a well-aimed 'Nice suit, fuckstick.' 

We love you, George. 


You Fail Me: Joe Drake, Lionsgate Films

Dignity is very important to me and as such, protests stir feelings of pity and distaste; aimless bitching is way more proper. That's why scholar Kid Rock thrilled me today with his astute, totally not hair-brained appraisal of the unfair music industry. Just as smug contentedness washed over me, my bow tie was sent spinning by a bunch of nerds, drunk on empowerment:

Nikki Finke at Deadline Hollywood reports that sweaty horror nerds have stuffed the inboxes of Lionsgate Films, distributors of
The Midnight Meat Train. Lionsgate helmsman Joe Drake first angered nerds by bumping the Clive Barker adaptation's release from May 16, paving the way for a competition-free run for Rogue Pictures' The Strangers, a hard-R horror flick exec produced by Drake. 

It gets worse: Today, Finke cites sources who reveal that Drake is discreetly covering his back by slating The Midnight Meat Train for a miniscule opening on August 1 (against The Mummy 3), showing on the minimum number of screens allowed by contract and followed by an immediate DVD release. Angry nerds can't fathom why Lionsgate would kill a sure hit. 

If you detect detachment in the above text, it's because we at HooM! are fickle and hesitate to align with dorks. But we do wish wealth and success on Meat Train director Ryuhei Kitamura (Sky High, Azumi), whose Hollywood debut is dumpster-bound, thanks to Drake. 

Midnight Meat Train Train: Kitamura (left) with stars Vinnie Jones, Bradley Cooper, Leslie Bibb


Why? Why!? WHY???!!!: Midnight Tolls For Cinderella; Carmine Appice Gets 'Stomp'ed; Judass Priest Double-Penetrates Your Wallet, Patience

It's Disappointment Week here at Hipsters Out Of Metal! A quick recap of what we're coming to grips with:

*Unable to secure financial backing, HooM! forgoes Iron Maiden concert. Not just Maiden, but the Maiden we all fell in love with: The Somewhere Back In Time tour 2008 saw the band drawing almost exclusively from their middle and best era, transporting fans through time to glorious, fugly 1988. 

*Independent efforts failed Tuesday to time travel to glorious, fugly 1988, where I would've caught a Maiden show, kicked the nuts of approx. 70 classmates, placed some sports bets, and put a giant padlock on my 2008 girlfriend's hoo ha.

*Everybody hates Katherine Heigl. Bullshit! That doctor show blows, but Knocked Up knocked me up and fucked my socks off. My dream of impregnating and enslaving an E! anchor -- right there on the screen! So, lay off the dumb bitch already. Sure, she can't go five minutes without running her stupid mouth, but who can? That just means she should be our leader! 

And, alas, the Disappointment gods are generous this week:

Hair rockers Cinderella postpone their summer tour after singer/guitarist Tom Kiefer is diagnosed with "a hemorrhaging vocal cord." I'm not surprised; judging from his voice, Kiefer's been storing a live aardvark in his throat since Jersey. 

Drummer Carmen Appice is impossible not to love. He's the gay pirate Muppet in Ozzy Osbourne's "Bark At The Moon" video (above), reprising the role years later with the mighty Blue Murder. So, naturally, the ex-Vanilla Fudge (gross) drummer has combined his love of Stomp, Slipknot, and the squandering of petroleum in this new clip for NASCAR's ... whatever. 

Speaking of gay pirates, the new Judass Priest double album landed with a thud this week, to everyone's half-surprise. The silver lining is the imminent release of the band's new book, How To Ensure Your Album Fails. From the back cover:

Are you too successful? Tired of people chanting your name? Want to shed all those pesky fans? 
Famous rockers JUDASS PRIEST show you how:
1. Overprice your album. It'll be harder to enjoy.
2. Pack your album with songs. Any song.
3. Exhaust listeners with uncooperative, purely non-exhilarating concepts. Eg., the invention of the cotton gin. 

Coming soon to the Business section of your favorite bookstore.


Boston Celtics: Bad-Ass Pussies

MVP Paul Pierce: 'Happy endings for all!' 
You'd never know it judging by their ferocious game, but 2008 NBA Champion Boston Celtics, one and all, need to lay off the hysterics and show some fuckin' dignity in victory. After the game, Garnett was speaking in tongues; Pierce got his totally homo drill sergeant thing going; family members milled around, snacking on finger foods; Doc Rivers was blubbering all over ESPN punk Stuart Scott, who, correctly identified as a moron, was showered in jeers by Boston fans. As was NBA Commissioner David Stern. I booed the totally hackneyed move of playing Bruce Springsteen's 'Glory Days.' Shit got so crazy that Michael Wilbon used the term 'stick-to-it-tiveness.' Pierce, accepting his Finals MVP trophy, paused from making out with James Posey to treat himself to some petty bitching about detractors, past, present, and ... future? That question mark means To Be Continued... 

Corny Cyclists Out Of Metal!: Iron Maiden at Madison Square Garden

Iron Maiden's ridiculously sweet Somewhere Back In Time tour rolled through Chicago this weekend, and that faint grinding sound audible throughout the area originates from HooM! HQ 'cause holy shit arena shows are expensive. Worse, screamingly positive reports keep trickling in, so the teeth-gnashing has grown in volume; next time I'll sell a limb or blow a politician to finance some Maiden Heaven. They played 'Moonchild' for the love of jeff. 

So color me ungrateful that Ian Christe of Bang Bang Blog blasted my near-complete recovery to smithereens with the below image of bicycle wanker Lance Armstrong (foreground, far right) and Hollywood fuckrag Kate Hudson in attendance at Maiden's goddamn motherfucking Madison Square Garden show on June 15th. Hope the happy couple isn't shocked when I Josh Homme them at SkyBar this weekend. They both smell like Owen Wilson's gay dick. 
'They're playing "Iron Maiden"! Quick! Take your Cialis!': Hudson, Armstrong up the Irons


Available In Exchange For Money: June 17 Edition

Hey I'll tell ya what -- Pat Sajak? Not half bad! He had a late night show for a while; shit didn't work out, so, head down, he just bangs out another 10 years of Wheel Of Fortune. Not exactly high art. But from here it looks like his job regularly includes having his forearms caressed by errant boobs. And to our knowledge, Sajak has never staged any public meltdowns/drunken pistol-emptyings, despite countless hours with the Vannaquin. Cheap shot alert.

Metal CDs Available In Exchange For Money: June 17

Judass Priest
Nostradamus (Sony)
'Member how Mastodon's next album is about Rasputin? That's so next year. Know what's totally 2008? Fuckin' Nostradamus, dude. Evidence points to an awesome 71st album for Priest, but what gives with the price? It's a double album, not two albums, each at regular price! It's not my fucking fault they need 42 songs to scream some bonerface's life story! It took Nas a tidy 63 minutes to tell the same story! Next, you'll tell me strippers are charging per boob.

P.S. I met Rob Halford. He was cool but his security totally Terry Ladd-ed me. 

I'd Like To Buy An 'o O O!!': Pat Sajak Solves Vanna White's Puzzle

Suicidal Tendencies: A Simple Equation

If you are metal, then you love Suicidal Tendencies. If you don't, you're not. If you're not now, you never were. 

Thanks to the Metal Injection team, who changed my life Monday with this clip of Cyco Mike Muir & Co. live in 1992.

Mastodon Anticipation, Metallica Antipathy

If Wacktallica abides by any showbiz credo, it's Always Leave 'Em Wanting Less. Even in their best days, the band was prone to girlfriend-repelling musical excess; now, they just talk too goddamn much. So, though currently without a release date (HooM! sources* indicate that a Radiohead-/NIN-style surprise release looms), we are already sick to death of the quartet's forthcoming record, probably called Death Magnetic. The word 'death' is cool, but it's hardly impactful after the MetalliNoiseMachine obscured that by slowly revealing fragments of the title -- and hokey logo -- over the course of an agonizingly unsuspenseful week. What a cliffhanger. And why no mention of producer/major selling point/freakish beardo Rick Rubin?

Luckily, over-hyping is just not possible for Mastodon, who premiered new songs at, sigh, the Bonnaroo Music + Arts Festival this weekend. Though bearded, the Atlanta quartet seems unable to release anything but engrossing, ambitious albums, a trait reminiscent of the now-deceased Metallica. And at least a pair of nipples was feverishly self-massaged at HooM! HQ upon the announcement that producer Brendan O'Brien is helming the band's next album, titled Fuck Metallica ... Here's Rasputin**. Our two cents: O'Brien's a good fit, a facilitator whose musical vocabulary might tease out a more expansive Mastodon*** -- even beyond Matt Bayles' explosive palette of trebly twinkles and blistering crunch. Then again, time will tell if O'Brien is Mastodon's Bob Rock. 
Kingdom of the Crystal Skull: Mastodon at Bonnaroo, Saturday

*Source: Perez Hilton
**Not true at all.
***Please hire this guy for mixing duties


Disturbed At #1 Again: Don't Panic!

Let's all take a deep breath, hold, and release it before our brains seize, crystalize, and shatter at the news that nu-metal assclowns Disturbed officially registered their third consecutive #1 album on Billboard albums chart Wednesday. 

Disturbed's reps are responsible for quite a shitstorm of fluffy plants lately; man, they must be tickled to report that the band, one of history's worst, joins the not very elite three-peat club populated by fellow hall-of-shamers Dave Matthews Band, Staind, and U2 -- as well as real bands Van Halen and System of a Down. 

But don't freak out. The record industry is suffering like Oprah on the wrong side of a cake shop window. And Dicksturd moved 250k of their latest atrocity only because fans of unlistenable pec-core can't smoke meth and download simultaneously. It's wise of Wal-Mart to conveniently display all Disturbed CDs right next to the pseudoephedrine. Zinnnng! 

Alicia Keys' As I Am: One of 199 non-Disturbed albums charted by Billboard


ReviewGate: Metallica Responds

I'm sleepy today due to a late-night viewing of Revenge Of The Nerds (I noticed for the first time, like, three hilarious jokes). And thus, I could've done without this steaming load from Metallica in response to last week's flap. From Blabbermouth.net:

Once we re-surfaced on Tuesday after a few weeks on tour in Europe, we were informed that someone at Q Prime (our managers) had made the error of asking a few publications to take down reviews of the rough mixes from the new [Metallica] record. Our response was 'WHY?!!! Why take down mostly positive reviews of the new material and prevent people from getting psyched about the next record ... that makes no sense to us!' [sic]

I remember an Anthrax interview in Guitar Player where Scott Ian or somebody was lauding the mixing team of Michael Barbiero & Steve Thompson on the band's then-new Persistence Of Time album. GP's interviewer countered by asking why a substandard final mix marred the duo's previous major project, Metallica's ... And Justice For All. The answer was politely worded, pointing out what everybody knows: that Lars and James are in charge of everything; if Justice sounds crappy, it's because Barbiero & Thompson followed orders. 

With that as our logical basis, HooM! can likewise conclude that if Q Prime acts on behalf of Metallica, their actions are a direct or indirect extension of Lars Ulrich and the culture he's created within and surrounding the band. James Hetfield seems to inhabit some parallel dimension, unable to process oxygen and hesitant to stir, since Metallica began to suck donkey dicks. 

Plus, it's easy to suspect that Larstallica had full knowledge of the pull-downs since A) their excuse for tardy resolution is incredibly flimsy (they were in Europe, where the internet is shut down during Metallica tours?); and B) you can't tell me Lars doesn't call in every 10 minutes to count beans with Q Prime goons; and C) the lame, blame-shifting PR-speak at work here (i.e. twice mentioning management by name, attributing actions to management as directly in conflict with band mentality, vague syntax like "someone at Q Prime," "a few publications," "rough mixes," "mostly positive reviews," and "getting psyched"); and D) despite being in a clearly reactive pants-down state, the band is portrayed as active in "tak[ing] matters into our own hands and just post[ing] the [taken down] links on our site" with no admission of responsibility for the actions of their representatives. Waaaaack!


You Fail Me: BulletBoys' Marq Torien

Actor Mark Wahlberg proved that even celebrities aren't immune to the power of my mind as he publicly lashed out Wednesday at neighbor David Beckham, soccer douche. From Stuff:

When asked if he had met [Beckham], Wahlberg joked: "No, but that fucker lives down the road from me, man! He has to go back to the UK, because he has paparazzi all over my house."

He added: "I was in the UK for the last week and they don't want him back. They said, 'Keep him over there'."

Looks like the HooM! plot to annihilate Beckham is picking up steam. For an encore, I'm going to have Wahlberg crap on the man-boobs of Marq Torien, singer of formerly awesome boner-rock quartet BulletBoys, whose just-released single could be charitably described as corporate bullshit for Staind-loving tampons. A harsh punishment, yes. But the real BulletBoys legacy must be protected. 
Neither Bullet Nor Boy: Marq Torien, pre-Wahlberg Steamer