This won't be the last time I nut all over a producer, but Terry Date is awesome. I mean, c'mon:
  • Overkill -- The Years of Decay, Horrorscope
  • Dredg -- Catch Without Arms
  • Pantera -- Cowboys From Hell, Vulgar Display of Power
  • Soundgarden -- Badmotorfinger
  • 24-7 Spyz -- Strength In Numbers
  • Metal Church -- Blessing In Disguise
Unimpressed by the above list? Well, retard, go fuck yourself because you are stupid, you stupid fucking retard. While Date is renowned as one of earth's best and most versatile sound engineers, it's HooM!'s opinion that no producer draws better performances out of bands. Or hides deficiencies as well, like a Hubie Brown (above) of loud rock production. Plus, we're not even including the four brilliant Deftones records helmed by Date*. And things are proceeding nicely on production of the quintet's forthcoming sixth album Eros. From Blabbermouth:
Deftones drummer Abe Cunningham: "We're almost finished tracking our record up here at The Spot and we'll head up to Terry's studio in Seattle next month to add the final touches and begin mixing. We're all excited about how this record is taking shape, and can't wait to share it with all of you!"
* For 2006's Saturday Night Wrist, Deftones enlisted Bob Ezrin, who was on a nice run as well with Jane's Addiction's Strays and Army Of Anyone's debut


Somebody out there is living my dream! From Tampa Bay Online:
A woman became increasingly drunk as the night went on at Tuesday's Rockstar Energy Mayhem Festival in Tampa, Florida and began punching people around her, Hillsborough deputies say.

According to a sheriff's office affidavit: After she began punching people, Danielle Lacie Ferrero, 25, kicked and spat on deputies trying to eject her from the concert.
Yes! At the concerts of yesteryear, drunk crazies would just stumble around harmlessly, cheering in the wrong direction and staining their cut-offs. Even if you'd, say, grind up on some wide-assed secretaries at an Aerosmith show, your shame was minimal and localized. But, thanks to the internet, Ferrero could be the Tila Tequila of today's new breed of proactive, goals-oriented stumblebum, a freedom fighter who valiantly battled against the growing epidemic of Disturbed fandom, one poorly-aimed girlpunch at a time. 



2004 was a big summer for me, but no event stands out as much as a seemingly innocent yard party at my rotten attorney's lakehouse. As a rich fuck, he has lots of shit; as a great guy, he often unloads old records on me and buys drinks. Away from the party, in the cool quiet of his living room, I came across Blue Murder's self-titled debut. Shaking me by the shoulders, he implored me to take the record and play the shit out of it. With a laugh, I agreed to.  

Well here we are in 2008 and conservative estimates indicate no fewer than 400 spins of Blue Murder's 1989 triumph at HooM! HQ. Produced by Bob Rock at the height of his monster-rock powers*, Blue Murder's nine songs include seven (!!) home runs -- and among those two grand slams off the scoreboard -- powered by John Sykes' fluid, UK-style shredding, the farty bass of Tony Franklin (femmullet alert), and drums so enormous they have their own congressman (courtesy of Carmine Motherfucking Appice). Like Rock, Sykes was fresh off a big win (Whitesnake's mega-success) but also a big loss (his unceremonious firing at the hands of David Coverdale); regardless, an emboldened Sykes turns in awesome vocal performances to match his thunderous songs and ass-tight backing band. Thanks, John. Happy 49th birthday buddy (yesterday). We love you.

Sex Child
Geffen Records 1989

*Rock had just completed The Cult's colossal Sonic Temple; following Blue Murder, Rock commenced work on Motley Crue's Dr. Feelgood. His last great production was David Lee Roth's A Little Ain't Enough in 1991 before the whole Shitallica thing.



It was quite a hilarious week a few summers ago when I got into two hilarious bands with wicked names: Watain and Akercocke. In the same week. I remember cuz The Mars Volta's second album had just come out. Or maybe Bjork's album Volta. Or a Voltron DVD box set. At any rate, big HooM! horns to Watain for issuing the best 100% sincere (believe it, Axl) and not at all cheeky press release for the band's forthcoming ahem Fuck The World Tour. Does that mean their album is called Fuck The? Via MetalSucks:

Hark in woe, infidels! One and a half year after their triumphant display of magic and death upon North American, Watain shall now return to those lands on a headliner tour. Due to the strict prohibitions of anything Satanic and Criminal passing over the border to USA, a lot of compromises had to be made on the last US tour regarding both members and stage-show. This time however, the full artillery shall be brought across the sea, in all it’s terrible glory.

The first date is on October 3rd and after that the wolves shall storm from Canada through USA on what shall constitute the last part of the monstrous crusade that has been the ‘Fuck the World Tour.’

'Triumphant display of magic and death upon North America'? That is some Borat shit right there, dude. Other howlers:
  • in all it's terrible glory and all its terrible punctuation
  • The tour opens October 3rd, but it's not until ahem after that that the wolves get the call to storm from Canada through USA.
  • Wait, I'm a fucking infidel? Hey, not for nothing, Watain, if that is all of your real names: Don't ever ev er call me an infidel. Oh sorry I thought you meant imbecile. Infidel's cool. Hey I love Dirty Rotten Infidels.


Krisiun is from Brazil, and most likely really poor, so we can cut them a break for 2006's mediocre AssassiNation. The all-brother death metal trio is back to form on Southern Storm, out August 5. As an American, you are responsible for Brazil's tragically irreparable economy of despair brought on by evil Friedmanist policy. The least you could do is buy Krisiun CDs. You don't even deserve Krisiun. For now, head over to MetalKult where Southern Storm streams in its entirety, you Reaganite prick.


Even at Pantera's dizzying peak, Philip Anselmo was second fiddle to the fabulous Abbott brothers. I guess that makes him third fiddle but whatever: Like David Lee Roth, Anselmo was huge, even in the shadow of mega-talent. Fame promptly squandered, Anselmo rushed to begin his second career as a full-time blowhard, warring publicly with the world's cuddliest guitar player when not shitting out awful records (yes, Down sucks ass) and wasting drugs. Want to know more? You bet you do. From Blabbermouth:

Vocalist Philip Anselmo (Down, Superjoint Ritual) has begun writing his autobiography. Anselmo apparently revealed the news to photographer Ross Halfin Sunday following Down's performance in Istanbul, Turkey opening for Metallica. Halfin writes: "I walk to the dressing room and Phil grabs me for a hug [and] tells me he's writing a book about his time doing what he does and it'll include his time in Pantera."

Hey Phil, me and the girls from marketing worked up a teaser for your forthcoming tome: Do you love delusional ex-junkie bullshit? Do you read Dave Mustaine's blog and own a copy of The Heroin Diaries? Do you want the inside story of a bitter, envious cockbag's plan to stifle, belittle, and derail modern Metal's most charismatic figure? Buy Buttboy From Hell today! 


It's been awhile since I've awoken someplace weird, but two days ago, the Sunday morning sun greeted me in an honest-to-goodness ditch. A ditch, people. I prefer phone boxes or alleys. The occasional park is nice if you can swing it, but do yourself a favor get outta there before the neighborhood mom brigade arrives. I'll never forgive myself for spoiling three months of good PR with that tall, huge-knockered milf, who I guess is turned off by dried blood. I still had a better weekend than this guy. 

Anyway, CAA announced today that AC/DC starts an 18-month world tour in October. I know it's shocking that the band would do such a crazy thing. Y'know, prop up a low-return album with a bajillion-dollar merch/ticket fees orgy. Wild.
The trek will be in support of the Aussie hard rockers’ new album, the Brenden O'Brien-produced Black Ice, the group’s first since 2000’s Stiff Upper Lip. The will be sold exclusively in the States at Wal-Mart, though it still lacks a definite release date.
You see, choosing public places to sleep off near-toxic chemical binges is like a Choose Your Own Adventure book for the adult drug enthusiast. But it's also a safety measure: Just ask former AC/DC vocalist Bon Scott, who was found dead in his car. If only he'd hunkered down outside that strip mall by the old Star Lanes on Santa Monica, Bonnie would've been jolted out of his drink coma by scary man-girls loudly gnawing on his hair. And AC/DC would be awesomer.


I'd Buy That For A Dollar: Robocop 2010

In Fall 2006, I rejoiced when Fox Atomic announced their planned Revenge of the Nerds re-make had been shelved indefinitely. That meant my entire Summer 2009 wouldn't be wasted forming human blockades at area cinemas. Your definition of 'civic duty' may differ from mine, but let's agree that only a fucking asshole would let his/her family watch a flimsy cash-in remake of one of movie comedy's greatest yarns: the inspirational tale of sweet-hearted nerds sexually assaulting their way to the top of one university's cutthroat social food chain. The now-dead project was to be helmed by some American Pie cast-offs (not even the unfunny series' directors, but their sycophants), so you can be assured that the film's timeless message of self-expression and nonconformity would've been loaded down with gags about myspace and inadvertent jizz-slurping. Insert joke about pie-/Pi-fucking here.

Until now, HooM! HQ planned a similar campaign for MGM's upcoming Robocop picture. But this time, I'm the one to scrap an unnecessary project: Not only will Robocop's dystopia themes transfer warmly from 1987 to 2010, but MGM actually hired awesome filmmakers for their pic. And it's not a remake of the Paul Verhoeven classic -- it's a ahem fourth installment. (Hopefully they'll reconsider acknowledging the ghastly second and third flicks at some point in the marketing stages.) Anyway, thanks to the super-cuddly, comic con-hating Nikki Finke (call me, Nik!) at Deadline Hollywood for this bit of awesome:
MGM announced today that it has signed Darren Aronofsky (Requiem For A Dream, The Fountain) to direct and David Self (Road To Perdition) to write a new installment for its Robocop franchise that's being fast-tracked for 2010. Normally I leave these boring blowjobs for the trades. But I figure the Comic-Con crowd will have an orgasm.
Comic nerds, you've been zinged!

Slipknot If You Know What's Good For You

Like all metal heads, I have a complicated relationship with Slipknot. At their best, the Iowa nonet is brain-crushing modern metal propelled by two killer guitarists unafraid to flaunt their devotion to death metal; at worst, itty-bitty macho man Corey Taylor and co. are little else than an over-marketed nu-jock swing act tethered to at least two superfluous drummers. Which makes for a chaotic live show, even if 'Knot boss Shawn Crahan is exhausted by stage time from writing that many checks (and one of his guys is sitting down on the job). 

Even in their most embarrassing moments, Slipknot is always memorable. To wit: I'll never forget hurriedly taking an unmastered, not-final-mix promo of Slipknot's self-titled debut out of a packing envelope to make room for the sloppy remains of my lunch's clam chowder. You had to wrap it in something, then throw it out or those keen-nosed city desk pussays would bitch. (I miss you and your breadsticks, hidden deli of love.) Oh yeah. Slipknot's "Psychosocial" pro quality live video below. Thanks Metal Injection.


Holy Shit: Gorgoroth's Gaahl Is Fruity!

There was a time when TV didn't go near skateboarding, save for the occasional news segment decrying the culture's disregard for public property and sweetly menacing attitude towards authority; these days, I revel in the glory of listening to my friends bitch every time a commercial for diapers or fruit snacks features some heavily be-padded suburbanite awkwardly posing with a skateboard. Metal's too gross and hateful to get that far, but it's awesome that there are fucking three feature-length Metal movies on the radar. Nuuuge! 

More on those later; as it relates to the subject at hand (the Metal world brought to full flame by hilarious black metal gayness), let it be known that in the terrific 2005 doc Metal: A Headbanger's Journey, the measured tones of mega-satanist Gaahl of black metallists Gorgoroth instilled in me that buzzy combination of respect, fear, and desire to mock. As of today, scratch those last two off the list and replace with "cheer" and "desire to cuddle." From Blabbermouth:
On stage with Gorgoroth, Gaahl is the very definition of a mother-in-law's nightmare.

The long-haired, evil-looking man with corpse paint scares the hell out of the parent generation, while fans all over the world love and admire his terrifying masculinity.

Together with modeling agent Dan DeVero, however, he displays far more feminine sides.

The musician dressed in black and the fur-wearing modeling agent are behind the clothing collection Wynjo, which will launch in 2009.

The two men became very close friends after they met a year and a half ago.

"We had hired models from DXD Models for a music video. During the shoot, Dan suddenly appeared and became upset with us because one of his models had been served wine. That was the first time I met him," says Gaahl, or Kristian Espedal, which is his real name.

DeVero's rage, however, quickly turned to warmer feelings.

"Kristian and I developed a close relationship, and he often told me he had strong feelings for me," DeVero tells iBergen.no while Espedal silently drinks from his glass of wine.

A year and a half later they are no longer swooning, but they are still partners. Thanks to their unlikely meeting in 2006, they've put their heads and wallets together to launch something as unique as as a wholly Norwegian clothing collection for women.
So nowhere does it state that Gaahl is according-to-Hoyle gay, but he is unveiling a line of dresses with a well-groomed young fashion industry stud, for whom he has ahem "strong feelings." Yeah. So. 

Metallica: Maybe You All Are Homosexuals

Anybody could tell you that the internet -- and its omnipresent gallery of vaginas celebrity and civilian -- is awesome; further, thanks to the interslice, you can order a pizza while not actually speaking to anyone during the critical and easily derailed ordering process. But what about the learning, people? After my usual 30-minute sit-and-stare upon arrival, the first 10 minutes of my workday have been as educationally fruitful as grades 1 - 7. Take that, Mrs. Edgette. 

I've learned that the Fox News organization is equally assholey behind and in front of the cameras; Russia's sideways oligarchy can ban the faggier end of your emotional spectrum; and that Journey's Neil Schon is very, very happy to've found a younger, more effeminate singer who just happens to have a built-in ethnic fanbase and no aspirations beyond singing Journey um classics. Oh and he can out Steve-Perry the real Steve Perry. 

That was all foreplay for Metallica news, of course. Just stop reading here. You know it's more bad news. From Billboard:

Metallica has confirmed the track list for its upcoming album, Death Magnetic, due in September via Warner Bros.

That Was Just Your Life
The End of the Line
Broken, Beat & Scarred
The Day That Never Comes
All Nightmare Long
The Unforgiven III
The Judas Kiss
Suicide & Redemption
My Apocalypse
I think we all see the big, obvious grossness here but let's just avoid that like it's a drunk white girl with barf in her hair and one foot in the dog dish. There's plenty else to tackle anyway: "Broken, Beat & Scarred"? Emo! "The Day That Never Comes"? Whiny! "The Judas Kiss"? What about an ass kiss? "Suicide & Redemption"? Ok is that ampersand really in the title? Why not "Suicide N' Redemption"? And I don't see a "f/Lionel Richie" next to track five. 


Christian Bale Is Under Pressure, Will Kick Your Ass

As Dark Knight fever sweeps the world, it's nice to see that star Christian Bale can scare the living shit out of people in real life. People he's known since birth. To the extent that they file police reports.
Sources close to the actor said he 'flew off the handle' at London's Dorchester hotel after Jenny Bale said 'some outrageous things'. However, a source close to the 34-year-old actor says Bale is confident he’s done nothing wrong, and blames his mother.
The source said: ‘Christian was stressed, but he didn’t lay a finger on anyone. Instead, he flew off the handle and cussed his mother. He just got very loud because his mother was saying some very outrageous things about him and his wife.’
‘Normally Christian would just call a friend and go out to a pub to cool off. But he was literally trapped into this confrontation with his mother and sister because there was an army of fans and paparazzi outside.’
The source also claimed Bale had been deeply affected by the death of co-star Heath Ledger.
I love how the report points out that Bale didn't physically harm the complaintants, which is obvious since nowhere does it state that Bale's mother and sister have been punched into a different dimension. Add this incident to yesterday's report of a Bale freak-out on the set of McG's Terminator 4 ("I will kick your ass!") and the awesome racially-charged Josh Brolin & Jeffrey Wright Vs. New Orleans Police melée and we are forced to conclude: Actors are metal. Actors Into Metal!

HipsterWatch: Annie-gel Rat

Check in with your local contingent of trend-humping pussies and you'll hear that Norwegian singer Annie's debut 2004 album, Anniemal, had some fun, featherweight dance-pop. Like you're into that brainless shit. And while Annie is a bit Metal -- her boyfriend/collaborator's death nearly kiboshed her -- that doesn't give her the right to promote metal-hipster cross-pollination by being seen with poser-ass beardo dorks (above). RIP Piggy.


Rock Or Perish: Protest The Hero

Above all else, we at HooM! value honesty; so while my boss enters hour two of Tuesday Afternoon Checkbook Balance Time, I'll come clean: I'm a big fat homo for emo-prog-metal crazies Protest The Hero (above, note the Sikth tee). The sad part: It's not that I'm bonered up by the rampant guitardation. It's the melodies! Shit is too catchy, yo. 

HooM! Presents
The Top Five Parts Of Protest The Hero Songs Stuck In My Head All The Goddamn Time

5. "Palms Read" (2:36 - 3:25)
Those deep-set, pitch-perfect harmony vocals, dayaaam!

4. "The Dissentience" (2:26 - 2:54)
Again: All about the vox here. OK fine and the killer guitar theme that follows. 

3. "Bloodmeat" (1:00 - 1:14)
I feel like the guy in the room who really digs Sexual Chocolate. Dude can sang. Goddamn.

2. "Bone Marrow" (1:02 - 1:24)
Cedric Bixler-Zavala Von Wafro is busy half-aping Bjork (that sounds gross), but PTH's Rody Walker (it's about time we put name to dude) is wailing on him anyway with acrobatics all up in this bitch. 'bo-Ho-HO-Ho-hone. bo-Ho-HO-Ho-HO-HO-Hone!'

1. "Sequoia Throne" (:34 - :49)
This singer + these guitarists = awesome. Get newest record, get pretentious remix ep, and see live. Watch video, enjoy  blue-ribbon headbanging. Or PERISH!  

The Crown Is Back: Dozens Celebrate

Ok holy tits this is awesome. Great leaping shitballs. From Blabbermouth:
Four former members of the now-defunct Swedish death/thrash act The Crown have reunited in a brand new project which is currently working on its debut album. Magnus Olsfelt (bass), Marko Tervonen (guitar), Marcus Sunesson (lead guitar) and Janne Saarenpää (drums) have joined forces with an as-yet-undisclosed singer and are recording a collection of tunes which are being described as "pure death/thrash metal." 
The Crown is back! Mostly! Sure, the absence of singer Johan Lindstrand is conspicuous, even considering the awesomeness of his ball-crushing death-and-roll band One Man Army & The Undead Quartet. One could argue that it's wiser to assume a fresh identity anyway -- that is, with or without Lindstrand -- since The Crown (the name) may sag under the weight of what we in the biz call 'negative value.' Then again, who gives a rat's ass. Just turn my shits up!

The real question is: Is there anything HooM! can't accomplish through the powers of suggestion? Boy, I hope it doesn't rain burritos today.


This Guy Gets Laid

Speaking of the walking dead, how about that Mick Mars, guitarist for Motley Crue. Mars' 24-year old girlfriend, certain of his impending doom -- or at least shrinkage to invisibility -- has declared to the world that she wuvs the widdle guy. Awww. From Blick magazine (via Blabbermouth): 
Motley Crue guitarist Mick Mars' Swiss girlfriend, 24-year-old former Miss Zürich contestant Seraina Schönenberger, met Mars, 57, at a June 2007 Motley Crue concert in Switzerland and the couple has been virtually inseparable ever since.

"It was love at first sight. You never know, maybe someday we will actually get married."
Heartwarming! Oh but wait: The article states that Schonenberger -- German for 'gold-digger' -- is ahem 'traveling' with the band on Crue's current cash-grab tour and appears in their new awful video. Good luck with that. 

Irony Alert: Dead Person Identified Thanks To KISS

It's Monday so forgive the softball, but aren't all KISS fans rotting corpses in the philosophical sense? I've seen those mindless bimbos trudging into concerts and conventions like ghosts haunting their long-deceased childhoods, calming lowering their trousers to welcome Gene Simmons' all-probing money-sniffing dong. Talk about Stockholm syndrome. From Edmonton Sun:
It all started last Nov. 3, when the body of an unknown man was discovered in a wooded area near Vegreville. Eleven days later, police released several photos in an attempt to identify the man ... showing a denim jacket with several [buttons] -- including several for KISS. 

"Once I saw the jacket, I knew that it was my friend's," said Ken Peterson, who grew up with Goodwin in rural Saskatchewan. "There [are] not too many people who have that amount of [buttons] all on one denim jacket."
This hilarious girl at a party once asked me to verify the lyrics of KISS' best-loved song, wondering what it meant to "rock and roll all nite/and probably every day." Hi-larious. Anyway, the Edmonton Sun article goes on to quote Peterson as saying he wants to thank Gene Simmons. Y'know, for selling the dead guy some cheap shit. Maybe dude should've spent that money on a helmet. Or these.


Dave Grohl Out Of Metal!

Foo Fighters are just inoffensive enough to be tolerated by adventurous squares; rockers, in search of some vaguely relatable pop music, can buy their records without shame since FF frontman Dave Grohl vacations in Metal. Whatever -- the guy's a tourist with a battery of bonerless songs. That doesn't mean FF (fronted by Gaz Coombes of real rock band Supergrass) can't groove one off the tee. From Thursday night's VH1 Rock Honors:

The Rock Honors series has been awful so far, pairing marketable bands (Pearl Jam, FF, Flaming Lips) with teflon, misremembered legends from an imagined era (The Who); if it were really about the music, man, they woulda invited WASP. (And maybe even these mouth-breathers.)



Aw come on! From TMZ.com:
Steven Adler -- former drummer for Guns N' Roses -- was arrested early this morning in Hollywood for possession of narcotics, being under the influence and an outstanding warrant. 

Adler is still in police custody.

Earlier this month, the 43-year-old rocker told a radio station he was planning on being part of the cast of Sober Living, a spin-off of VH1's Celebrity Rehab. The timing couldn't be better.
Hey we all love drugs. But hasn't Adler hoovered his share of sweet, sweet yay? I'm pretty sure that's what his brain is telling him when it suddenly shuts down for a while. Save some for the rest of earth. 


Penetrating Metallica's 'Death Vagnetic'

Ok so those bastards at MetalSucks scooped us, but just consider HooM! a shrill, Fox News-esque toadie to MetalSucks' CNN. Reporting that the new Metallica album art is grotesquely vaginal is total No Duh news anyway. See how I softened the blow and indirectly accused MS of being obvious? Refer to Chapter 4 of Damage Control For Sore Losers

I'm a vocal proponent of the vagina's powers of attraction but am appalled at this irresponsible (and totally homo) depiction of the poonanny as death's hairy tractor beam. Is the band in league with this ill-groomed movie star, bent on ruining gash-pounding for everyone? A coffin-shaped hoo-ha? Time for more therapy, fey goats.

Yeah, and way to backpedal more, Sactallica, by embracing your former logo (not this, this, or this) and packing your abysmal concerts with songs from ...And Justice For All. All this criticizing is sapping my strength. 

The Colbert Report: 'Peart'ing The Red Sea

I guess there are people for whom the psychic pain of modern life's crushing shittiness is unbearable. As a grudge-bearing, mentally unstable coward, I'm actually amped for the imminent class war and the planet's transformation into a 'barren hellscape'; there are scores to settle. Watch your back, world! 

What was I talking about. Oh yeah. I was heading toward the point that watching Comedy Central's The Colbert Report is a fun way to keep tally of future vengeance kills (murderous free marketists and facism apologists and other mindless jerks). Until last night, that is, when fucking Rush stopped by for an interview/performance segment with Stephen Colbert. But it was so much more.

That this Colbert Report appearance is Rush's first on US TV in 33 years means that non-fans don't ever see these Canadian fuckers rip shit up. (I've unintentionally seen C*****y perform three times this month. Verdict: Total pussies.) So rejoice, Metal People, that tons of sheltered kids and ignorant adults popped their first full-mast ear-boners last night. I know if Neil Peart and his enormous drum kit (above) humped my unsuspecting face on a Wednesday night, there'd be crusty tissue disposal arrangements to be made.  


Surrounded By Assholes: Origin

As ad revenues continue to pour in at HooM! HQ, I'm able to earmark petty cash for the little extras; today, for example, my accountants have approved a leg-and-ankle session with HooM!'s crack physical therapist in prep for all the swift nut-kicking slated for this summer Tuesday. Yes, friends, today the full spectrum of delusion and retardation is represented: this bloated chump crapping in the faces of his fans; this 'Cubic Zirconia Dave' wanker pretending he has fans; and this fucking piece of shit-fuck crapping in the faces of somebody else's fans (ironically, the same fans the aforementioned wanker pretends to have). 

For countering the forces of evil (the sucky kind), let us all praise Decibel Magazine, Sick Drummer.com, Relapse Records, and some other corporate sponsors for the Relapse Contamination Tour 2008, featuring Origin (above, nice mitties alert), Misery Index, and Abysmal Dawn. Dates here. We're there.