Just about the only way a Robert Plant-less Led Zeppelin tour would be endurable is if guitarist Jimmy Page wiped the throbbing dollar signs out of his eyes long enough to draft a powerful, charismatic, non-Plant clone to take his place. That means the Coverdale is out, as is the guy from Kingdom Come, natch. (Ray Gillen and Daniel McMaster are uh unavailable.) And the voice of the limping, legacy-wrecking Led Zep must not be some post-Vedder grrrharn-mrrrrrharn guy, so let's cross off Alter Bridge dude along with 10,000 others. That eliminates everyone except fooorrrrrrrrrr: 
Aerosmith guitarist Brad Whitford has confirmed a report published Saturday in England's Daily Mail that revealed Aerosmith singer Steven Tyler's recent jam session with Led Zeppelin members Jimmy Page, John Paul Jones and Jason Bonham.

"First of all, they did it for fun. I actually think Jimmy wanted Steven to come over and play a little bit because, I think, he was trying to light a fire under Robert. Come on! Come on, Robert, let's go!"
Yeah, see, XTC tried similar methods to jolt a shell-shocked Andy Partridge out of his anti-touring stance, threatening to hire Howard Jones ("Things Can Only Get Better") to front the band for a run of live shows. Partridge called their bluff and XTC remained a studio-only band. Wait. Uhhh. Who said that? I mean Meshugaaaaaaah! 


Hey see what I did there? I put "  " around somebody's words so that I'm covered as I steal them. (Don't hate the player, hate the game, MetalSucks commenter Horns High.) Moving right along everybody's all atwitter as Rock Hard Magazine (giggle) of Germany (giggle giggle) has published an interview in which Gorgoroth's Gaahl comes out as a very content gay homosexual (giggle giggle giggle). Dudes rush to point out that Gaahl doesn't officially chant slogans of gayness, but one senses that it's because your black metallist doesn't do labels -- and not on account of any dearth of gayness. Ahem.

At any rate. That shit warms my heart. Throughout the interview, Gaahl is thoughtful, measured, and really damn happy. Via Blabbermouth:
My idea of art, and black metal especially, is the depiction of honesty without compromise. I really don't care how other people react to it or the feelings it might provoke. I am I. I'm an individualist.

Sounds as if you've gotten rid of a lot of muck in your life.

Yeah, you could say that. I'm content all around with my situation right now. I love life at the moment.

Would you say you're a happy person?

Oh yes, most definitely.

It's got to feel great: You are free and no longer have anything to hide. 

That's right. But I've never really hidden anything to begin with. It's just that I was never in love before.
Equally heart-warming is the MetalSucks (giggle) commenter community's reaction, by and large cuddly, jokey, and lovey about the big gay Gaahl news. And naturally Axl, Vince, and the other (undoubtably shirtless) guys run such a tight, puckered ship that their advertising picks up the bajillion occurrences of the word 'gay' and plugs ad content featuring gay trips to Sydney's gay Mardi Gras (above). Good days people. The human spirit is indomitable and will not submit to oppression. LIVE GAY!! 



Last week I did a Clooney-style spit-take after seeing a headline about a new Cyclone Temple album forthcoming. Oh wait. I'm illiterate. From Blabbermouth:
Swedish heavy metal band Cryonic Temple will release its new album, Immortal, on November 21 via Metal Heaven Records. Check out the cover artwork below.
Hey. You heard the indented quote -- check out the cover artwork below. Anyway, the above text doesn't read "Insanely ahead-of-their-time-but-only-made-one-great-record-then-disappeared Metal band Cyclone Temple with their fucking ridiculous guitarist will release its new album, Cyclone Temple Is Fucking Awesome, tomorrow." Geez Cryonic Temple. Way to freak me the fuck out.



It occurs to me that my neighbors catch a lot of wild laughter and scary, brain-searing music (and memorable mega-finales like the one that closes Between The Buried And Me's triumphant Colors Live DVD, above) coming from my place. Mere seconds ago, a fit of laughter gripped me as I re-read the above headline: Bonus Between The Buried And Me For Your Boner Buddy. Ha. But seriously, I would never imply that you have a boner buddy, a subservient stud who cares for and soothes your erect wang. And ladies, referring to your dude in such a manner would require a sense of humor and you probably pride yourselves on enduring a shitload of BTBAM so you don't need any contributions from HooM! and ... anyway I decided a comma was in order. That's better. It's probably wrong to address boners anyway. This just in you're a moron if you read this far. Sorry.


If I'm ever in a sleazy, dirty rock band with tons of suggestive lyrics -- it's just a matter of time -- I hope that our fanbase to some extent will include young rockers too green to understand wink-wink double entendres and innuendos. Why? Well, I was once one of those pre-pubescent lads confidently strutting around school, unwittingly singing about the joys of "Sport'n A Woody" and the "Teas'n" and the "Pleas'n" of area chicks. Ah Dangerous Toys. Good times. From Blabbermouth:
Dangerous Toys will celebrate its 20th anniversary on Saturday, November 8 at the Red Eyed Fly in Austin, Texas. The group's lineup, consisting of all original members, will perform a two-hour set, featuring the No. 1 MTV video hits "Teasin' Pleasin'" and "Scared" from their platinum 1989 debut. 
In other news, check out this adorable small-town newspaper piece. Awwww. 


It's hard for the normal human brain to conceive of the intense dumbness of Kiss. The band's frontman is so gay that he's straight again, the other guy won't shut up about his joyless, workmanlike sexual tallies, and then there are the two animatronic robots who back them. Oh and don't forget the merchandising, shitty production, multiple farewell tours, baker's dozen compilation albums, the makeup (oooh scary!), and the outfits. But most of all, the songs! The stupid, stupid songs. Flat, featureless riffs. Sub-moronic lyrics. 

I wouldn't be caught dead listening to an actual Kiss album, but even limiting our selection to known Kiss singles, we have tons to choose from for the crown of dumbest fucking Kiss song ever. I even know this many Kiss songs? Damn.

10. Shout It Out Loud
9. Crazy Crazy Nights
8. (You Make Me) Rock Hard
7. Calling Dr. Love
6. Love Gun
5. Tears Are Falling 
4. Let's Put The X In Sex
3. God Gave Rock 'N Roll To You II
2. Lick It Up 
1. I Was Made For Lovin' You



I feel a little weird saying this but Bjork's label in the UK annoys the shit out of me. I pursue information regarding only Metal and the NBA and yet everytime I scan a new releases list, One Little Indian,  the Icelandic artiste's British record company home, is dumping out a nearly-diarretic in pace and substance stream of singles, remixes, special editions, DVDs, and other shit. OLI chief Derek Birkett is bro-brah with Bjork since forever and boy has that paid off. I, too, befriended a partially-retarded dork years ago and my only payment is occasionally burning a couple CDs from dude. That dude needs to Bjork it up.

Polish black metallists Behemoth haven't reached that point, but ugh here comes another EP of kuh-wite inessential stuff. Oh sorry I mean inessential satanic metal that rips.  Cuz anyone who's wandered within earshot of my big mouth knows that Behemoth is awesome as shit. And that's a lot of people. New video for "Inner Sanctum" featuring the lovely and talented Warrel Dane above. And from Blabbermouth:
The band's new EP, Ezkaton, is scheduled for release in North America on November 11 through Metal Blade Records. The EP will feature seven tracks, one brand new song ("Qadosh"), a live recording as well as a new studio version of "Chant For Ezkaton 2000 e.v.". Also included are live versions of "From The Pagan Vastlands" and "Decade Ov Therion" plus covers of The Ramones' "I'm Not Jesus" and the Masters Hammer track "Jama Pekel".


Many lines were crossed on this week's Rock Of Love Charm School; it goes without saying that the polarizing Megan Hauserman was at the center of the millieu. First, a combustible Rodeo took the sad puppy look off her face momentarily in order to berate Hauserman, whose attempts to innocently cheat were foiled by Brandi M. during the Trashion Show challenge. As usual, those opposing Meggles were sadly out of their skill set, including hostess Sharon Osbourne, who also attempted to shock down the blonde bikini babe in a closing tirade (upsetting Brandi C. to the point of tears, natch). At least Osbourne was wise enough to see through Rodeo's pathetic attempts to tarnish Megan, expelling the stocky barbeque sauce entrepreneuse which led to some choice sore loser action (above).

The premise of the aforementioned Trashion Show challenge was something about having your clothes destroyed while on tour, but somehow salvaging usable outfits from the mess. Osbourne's real life example was how once she was backstage someone spilled wine on her shirt. That's it? No specifics about what show or band? Oh that's right she was busy counting Ozzy's money.



Former Guns 'N Roses drummer Steven Adler is in a piteous state, a fact known to the world thanks to VH1's awful shamefest Celebrity Rehab. A gibbering, speech-slurring Adler makes quite an impression, even on a show whose standard of normalcy is represented by batshit insane Gary Busey. I feel for Adler this week as he's haunted by the finally to-be-released Chinese Democracy LP by his old band and the bummer news that Slash, his partner in crime since high school, has selected the detestable Matt Sorum to handle drum duties for the guitarist's solo debut. It's a stretch to think Adler was even being considered to play on anything, but still: Ouch. From Rolling Stone:
Steven Adler, who was the most cringe-worthy addict on Celebrity Rehab last night: sobbing about how his friendship with Slash has deteriorated to the point where the guitarist didn’t ring him up to drum on his upcoming solo LP, sucking down bong hits while proclaiming his desire to die, declaring his admiration for Jeff Conaway (whose leather jacket and curled hair made him look like a zombie Kenickie).
See, there's a lesson in there somewhere. Avoid crack and heroin, and functioning as a drug-gobbling lunatic isn't so bad. That is, until the hugest regret in your life grows teeth and bites your dick off. Then you're upset, an emotion not helped by intoxicants as any college girl can tell you around 1am on a Thursday.



One of my earliest memories of total airhead shit in the loud rock community was courtesy of silly NYC cock-rock band Spread Eagle. Listening to the much-missed syndicated hard rock/metal program, Metal Shop, I heard a hilarious interview with SE frontman Ray West. When asked about possibly overdoing the risque lyrical content on the band's self titled debut (cover above), the singer diplomatically replied after some delay: "I mean, there's not a hell of a lot of sexual innuendo on the album." 

This happened in 1990, so violent hip hop and sleazy hair rock were still contending for most outrageous content. I can thank grunge for getting revenge on West and co. for me, yet I'll never forget falling off my bed in hysterics. "Yeah man. We're called Spread Eagle. We're a hair rock band. But, nah, man, while there's a lot of hot, steamy songs on our new record, I couldn't in all fairness describe the album as having a hell of a lot of sexual innuendo. Let's say vagina-based content has a formidable presence on the record. Next question." You be the judge when Spread Eagle plays songs from their debut and sophomore record Open To The Public on tour this winter.


I must have lost a bet or something because I went to the theater to see Sweeney Todd, the film adaptation of Stephen Sondheim's musical. It was pure garbage but while ignoring it, I had an hour free to ponder the paradox of rank movie musicals. Movies are awesome, music is awesome, so why are movie musicals about as appealing as a kick to the 'nads? 

Least of all poised to solve this age-old mystery is Cradle of Filth, whose pointless, marathon-length albums generate the same distaste and antipathy as films with murderous barbers warbling while artfully opening blood geysers from enemies' throats. My first COF record was Midian; the lead track "Cthulu Dawn" ripped my head off, but welcome to Snoresville from there on out. A friend says the same about COF's Sony debut, Damnation and A Day, but fuck if I care. 

We all agree that it's hard to completely turn away from bands with screaming and blood and shit, no matter how cheesy, so a seeming eternity of Sunday was spent charitably taking in Godspeed On The Devil's Thunder (out tomorrow). Yet another concept album about somebody evil or something, GOTDT is the nail in COF's coffin, with their flat, bubbly distortion, totally random collections of edgeless riffs, and the many voices of Dani Filth (above). It is so borrrrring! Dani needs to get out of music if telling scary stories is going to take precedent over musical cohesion and momentum. We already have one W.A.S.P.



Hey the above image is totally poached from those awesomes at Metal Inquisition (blogspot what). That rotten Sergeant D -- if that is your real name -- hurt my feewings with his disgraceful slagging of Hate Eternal but almost preternaturally knew how to balm the wound: Huge fucking Queensryche back tattoo guy. Geez look at that their faces and everything. 

Like many, I think the sun shines out Operation: Mindcrime's ass but is it justifiable to ink Chris DeGarmo/Jamie Lee Curtis and Lil' Geoff Tate on your shit like that? I'm kinda ashamed to know the "Breaking The Silence" solo and this cat is shoving 'Ryche all up in everybody's face at the beach, arena parking lots, doctor's office, gym shower. It's like a backpatch that never fades. And which is rendered invisible by clothing. Huh. In some ways, me and that Huge fucking Queensryche back tattoo guy are very different people. 


Uh I have a question. What the fuck is with Trans-Siberian Orchestra? What the fuck is that shit? It's hard rock with a fruity symphony. And holiday music. And Savatage. That's creepy as fuck. I wouldn't care but HooM! field correspondents indicate that Jon Oliva's Pain, fronted by the worshipped former Savatage frontman, has been playing TSO songs during recent concerts. That is fucked up. Play Savatage, Doctor Butcher, and JO'sP* and leave that "She's comin' home this Karistmuss Daaaaaay" shit** to the half-dozen TSO touring companies that blanket the planet every winter. Get some more lighting rigs why don't you. Look at all those sweaters. Way to go, O'Neill***.

And worst of all, ladies and germs, Testament guitarist Alex Skolnick apparently finds TSO more important than COTLOD. From Blabbermouth:
Bay Area thrash legends Testament have recruited guitarist Glen Drover (ex-Megadeth, King Diamond) to fill in for Alex Skolnick on their upcoming Mexican tour dates with Judas Priest ... due to Skolnick's prior commitment to the Trans-Siberian Orchestra. The band rehearsed together all week and sounds sharper than ever!

Drover says, "I am really looking forward to playing these four upcoming shows in Mexico with my buddies in Testament, along with Judas Priest. We are totally going to crush! This is something I am very happy about, as I have not played live since leaving Megadeth one year ago. For those of you who will be in attendance at these shows, I hope you enjoy yourselves half as much as I will."
Uh did Testament's publicist mean to imply that Testament is a better band not with Alex Skolnick (Hall of Fame) but with Glen Drover (only ranking above Al Pitrelli among guitarists fired by Dave Mustaine). But Drover's a sweetie here, making no secret of his love of Testament. I would kill to be in his shoes -- four shows doing Alex Skolnick's work. Hey wait a second why didn't they ask me? After all, I'm a guitarist who dreams of hitting Mustaine with a hammer. Bam! I'm qualified!

*Yup. Four awful band names.
**The solo in that song is like a totally gay version of this totally gay solo
***But nice job on that first Badlands record



Dee Snider's syndicated House Of Hair radio show is awesome. But regular listeners will tell you that the producers have some preposterous songs on the HOH playlist. Most listeners can muscle through the Bon Jovi, Vixen, and ahem Saraya. Shit I actually like White Lion. But there are times that though drifting off to sleep, I burst out in neighbor-scaring laughter during these turds: limp, synthy come-ons voiced by pathetically unsexy dudes; horribly misguided paeans to rocking; and just outright fourth dimension absurdity. I present them to you in order of hilariousness. Restrain yourself.

10. Crazy Night / Loudness listen
9. King of Dreams / Deep Purple listen
8. Stranger In This Town / Richie Sambora listen
7. Fantasy / Aldo Nova listen
6. Street of Dreams / Rainbow listen
5. Into The Night / Frehley's Comet listen
4. Stone Cold / Rainbow listen
3. Where Eagles Fly / Sammy Hagar listen
2. Little Miss Dangerous / Ted Nugent listen
1. Knockin' At Your Back Door / Deep Purple listen


If staring deeply into the above image doesn't freak you the fuck out, this will! From FuckThatBand:
Attention Wal Mart shoppers, we are now selling sick ass "punk rawk" T-shirts. Check out our music section and look for the sign that says "Victory Records Fan 2-Pack." You have your choice of the following Fan Packs [exclusive CD + T-shirt bundle]: Between the Buried and Me (Yawn), Aiden (Still a Band?), Bayside (LOL), Silverstein (Canada, ya I know, I didn’t think people lived their either), and Atreyu (More Bats and More Eyeliner Please). These are great stocking stuffers! Collect all 5! 
That shit is silly. I remember my rage at being confronted with a huge rack of fucktarded AC/DC pajamas but puh-leeze. Victory Records merchandising division, please put it back in your pants. You're making fools of Minus, BTBAM, and all the nice people in publicity. It is NOT okay to be in business with Wal Mart. Money is important but not that important so unfuck yourselves! Y'know, for the children. Oh look an interview with the president of Taco Bell at Game 1 how fascinating.


I'm not making this shit up, people. Not only does the above hipster boast a discography pocked with cassette-only releases (gag me) and unlistenable lo-fi screech-fests, but did you know he's wrecked an Aesop Rock song AND authored an installment of the 33 1/3 series examining Black Sabbath's Master Of Reality? I know! You're outraged. Fuckin' "After Forever" is on that album. Best song ever. You don't FUCK with that. 

People, I implore you: It's an election year and while Obama and McCain spar on health care, Iraq, and the economy, it's every Metal person's duty to demand from our leaders decisive action to halt this hipsterism epidemic. We need a swift, brutal counterattack backed by our federal government's shock troops. Marines, the whole nine. 
  • Outlaw the beard; it's the post-millennial mullet, a shlong cranked around the head's equator to rest on the chin. The face-mullet. Business in the front, party on the bottom. Pretty soon there'll be rat tails dangling from those asinine things. Yes, you're grown-up now; I'll call the media.
  • Draconian first-offense mandatory minimum terms for those who provide Metal shirts to hipsters; I'm talking chain gang with the black-and-white stripes, y'all. Gitmo.
  • Midnight raids on known hipster safe houses; instruct task forces to profile by thick, black-rimmed glasses, Weezer CDs, complicated belts
Metal people, your vote counts! Neilstein/Rosenberg '12!



Look, I'm not mad at Iron Maiden bassist Steve Harris for foisting his talentless daughter onto the Metal world. Harris is the male Sharon Osbourne, and while Osbourne didn't invent nepotism, she undoubtedly gets the blame for its entrenchment in Metal. But anyway, there are two ways of looking at this. Either (a), Harris is doing some empire-building and plans to retire from Maiden (around 2035), get some tailored suits, host a reality show, and manage his daughter's surely-flourishing music career. Or (b), 'Arry is acting at Lauren's behest, lending a hand to his would-be musician progeny as any parent would. 

Either way, it's tough to care about Lauren. When her boobs aren't hanging out (above), she's bleating atop flavorless alt-metal with an eye on Amy Lee's job. What follows is ripped straight from chapter one of Things That Bitter Losers Say, but motherfuck people whose parents land them jobs. How many of your favorite bands don't get enough hype while Lauren Harris has a starter career in hand? How many young rock journalists are swept aside to make room for the detestable daughter of the LA Times' former theater critic? How many middle-aged publicists get shafted on salary so it's possible to create an unneeded and grossly overcompensated position for the son of some honky-ass morning radio host? Do we need more Nelsons, Osbournes, Cages, Harrisesess, and Perrys? Stop the madness! 

Famous Kids Out Of Metal! 


It was a big day for me when, on my weekly 10-block walk to homeboy's house to watch The Wire, I saw a little sign announcing the opening of a new hot dog shop. This was smack at the midpoint of the trek, by which time I'd be hungry yet left with ample blocks to leisurely whale on a Fifth Avenue. Good days ahead for a hot-doggist like myself. But it took forever for the goddamn joint to open, and on my very first visit, the owner was mad dickish to me. No big deal -- I'm in this for wieners in buns, not friends. And while that first dog was meh-to-good, more than anything it was just a relief. After that day, I walked past dozens more times and never again stopped.

And so it goes with the new Rose 'N Roses tune streaming. It's a rock song, it's good, but not 13 years good. And the owner is a dick. Like the hot dog, "Chinese Democracy" was great during the time it took to consume it. But now I can't remember much -- some unnecessary guitar fills, Axl's baritone, Chinese people talking blah blah blah. This is the big album closer?



Holy crap so Between The Buried And Me committed a cardinal sin by releasing a note-for-note live version of their album Colors. Well, it seemed that way until you actually listen to the creatively-titled Colors Live -- those cats have their shit together, bringing the epic Colors to life in a wicked 65-minute slab. Though I can't spot it, there must be some studio tinkering, right? 

Speaking of killer live shit, check out the pro-shot Origin full set from the tech-death quintet's recent Antithesis tour stop in Rochester, NY posted at UVTV. And while you're there, click to hook up with some of those horny college girls in your area who want to party. Their faces aren't going cover themselves with jizz. Get to it!



Ever get home on a Monday evening and just crash on your bed, still in your jacket? If you have, it must be because you listened to the ripping new Gojira The Way Of All Flesh record all goddamn weekend. Aaaand there were probably some drugs in there somewhere. Shit, there must've been drugs, 'cause I don't even remember being at w*** today. But still, that could just be because my brain is running four different Gojira riffs non-stop. Nnnnnaw. It's the drugs. And the hot dogs. Turn this shit up!


After bitching aimlessly non-stop for weeks now, I'm shutting up because the world is neat sometimes. Example: Vince over at MetalSucks wonders about the status of Anthrax, and the same day, 'Thrax drummer Charlie Benante checks in with the following update
We have 13 brand new Anthrax songs, we have four (maybe five) b-sides. The b-sides will be 'Brain Of J' (Pearl Jam), 'Big Eyes' (Cheap Trick), 'New Noise' (The Refused [sic]), 'Running Down A Dream' (Tom Petty) and maybe an Anvil cover — 'Jackhammer'?? Or maybe an Alice Cooper cover — 'We Die Young'?

The new tunes are very strong. We have some old school thrash and some stuff that is like We've Come For You All meets The Sound Of White Noise. This record is not forced — it is a very organic and honest representation of where we are as a band and as writers. There is a six-minute tune called 'Down Goes The Sun', I believe it is one of my favorite songs. The music itself is epic, it sends chills up my spine. 'Face with No Name', 'The Devil You Know', 'Earth On Hell' — all killer. Worship Music should be out in May.
The world would be even neater if Charlie's words weren't so tellingly unimpressive. The first topic of discussion is the killer cover songs slated for b-sides. Who cares? Sure, I've been proud of Anthrax for exercising great taste in cover material -- and not-so-thrilled with their icky practice of releasing said covers as singles. Next, Charlie talks about the not-forced, honest, and organic songs that make up Worship Music. Anthrax has pulled through sketchy times and come out with unadventurous but sturdy heavy rock records, but this new singer? Ugh. You can tell Scott and Charlie were looking at Stone Sour's success, saying "Safe Home" would've charted that high if they'd had the 'right singer.' Less encouraging still is the emphasis on honesty and organic uh organicity -- code words for 'undercooked' 'uninspired,' and 'not good.' 



The real killer about wankbags like Ryan Adams (above, in a Metallica shirt) is the hypocrisy. See, wiggers get skewered and barred by polite society as people falsely adopting the behaviors of a different social group. So should not hipsters be persecuted likewise? they aren't mountain men, cowboys, or old tyme good ol' boys. But don't tell that to their beards. Yeah there are times I fear a hoedown will break out. Then people like Adams tire of the trend (which they credit to themselves) and move on to some other fake shit, i.e. 'getting into Metal.' No sale. Don't use Metal to prove to yourself that you're dangerous even without needle drugs. Wanna prove something, hunkypants? Play some metal songs to your honky-ass concert audience. I suggest "Pledge Your Allegiance" by Suicidal Tendencies. Urbillies out of Metal!


Not like I'm taking it personally or anything but the cover of the new Guns 'N Roses album is pure unfiltered garbage. Ripped from a margarine ad in Redbook, the image is so corny and faux-symbolic that my dick hurts. What o what does that large basket contain? Is it the barely-suppressed rage of persecuted Chinese? The flimsy and ill-fastened apparatus for keeping the universe from tumbling into chaos? The fixins for a ripping Sunday pic-a-nic? Fuck like I can even tell from the teeny weeny image (above). Everything is such a fucking travesty with Axl. It's one after another, satisfying his demands, doing everything just so, delays here alterations there, lawsuits, FBI, Best Buy holy planet of hell no supporter of a band should have to endure this fucktardery. Just do the damn shit or FUCK! OFF! AAAAAAAAXLLLLL!



This has come up before, but man things are getting a little heated about the presidential elections. Nobody seems to be cool or detached; there's a marked lack of confidence in each pissy voter. The greedy and backward are nervous as shit about the not white guy; meanwhile, the underprivileged and the intelligentsia can't believe the race is even close. And though this sucks ass to contemplate, it's better to face our problems so here goes. It would be a landslide for Barack Obama if not for racism. 

No one at HooM! is trying to put words in anyone's mouths (just dongs, natch), but it was seemingly in this spirit that Dallas Coyle of God Forbid raged wildly in his October 9 Metal Sucks guest blog. Coyle had John McCain figured as a racist, not exactly an outlandish claim. But the killer guitarist and songwriter with awesome hair zeroed in on McCain's "that one" remark, when actually all you have to do is look at the guy. He's so White. Yessss, that's a capital w. But MS commenters rushed to detail dozens of the potentially infinite number of explanations why the "that one" statement isn't racist on its face, blah blah blah. I admit, McCain may not be a racist, but he knew who the fuck was listening. And he's a hopeless gibbering retard if he didn't consider how the words would be interpreted or disambiguated etc etc etc and how that would work to his advantage. Dick!

Anyway, Dallas offered his apologies today. That takes a big man; the commenters on Metal Sucks speak freely and with passion. Especially the Disturbed defenders. And now I shall do the same: Dallas Coyle, I reject your apology. In your anger, you may have neglected the logical basis of your argument. (More likely it's because one requires half a brain to understand the facets of your opinion; I don't qualify since I am so puzzled by the JFK assassination part). But your conclusions and insights are CORRECT!

CORRECT I SAY. So let it be written.


Chris Chelios
Detroit Red Wings

Someone should have drove that guy ... we know he [placed the Stanley Cup trophy upside down on purpose]. We talked to people at the show and Elliott was being real rude to everybody. He was in a bad mood when they got there, so for whatever reason he didn't want to be there. And that's his way of showing it and taking it out on the NHL ... [Red Wings goon] Darren McCarty didn't really get a chance to see it; I guess he was going off the stage when it happened. And you know, [Red Wings defenseman Kyle] Quincey was the only one that said he would have done something to him. I don’t know if he would have popped [Elliott], but he could have given him a good shove."

Ken Russell
The Hockey News

Ya know, the NHL really tries, but you have to wonder sometimes if these guys get it. Some dumbass geriatric singer puts the Cup down upside down and then say, “Well never mind. We’re soccer boys. What do we know?” What else would you expect from a bunch of guys who can’t seem to spell the words “deaf” or “leopard” properly? Must be that soccer trophies get placed down with the big covered side sticking up. That makes sense.

I can just imagine the planning meeting for this thing. Yeah, to celebrate the Stanley Cup in Detroit, let’s invite a bunch of aging English rockers who don’t know anything about hockey. Hmmm, Dexy’s Midnight Runners are booked up, so let’s invite Def Leppard to Motown. Yeah, to Motown. And just for fun, let’s not have a dry run with the Stanley Cup beforehand. If I were the NHL, I’d be trying to wipe this embarrassment from everyone’s memory banks and have YouTube pull it down immediately. But no, the NHL celebrates it with gushing stories that don’t even mention the incident. And then they wonder why people laugh at them.



It was a major disappointment that after, what, six months of bikinis and manipulation, Megan Hauserman got the ax on VH1's I Love Money. That shit was FIXED: After Real was ousted, suddenly appears a vengeful jury made up not of the entire bunch of rejects, but only the rejects whose demise was engineered by Hauserman. No, fuck that; 'engineered' is inaccurate. She didn't just carry out actions, she conceived them; and therefore, Hauserman masterminded that shit, analyzing each situation, identifying a desired result, and having the finesse to pull the strings of wildly irrational broke-asses/porn actors. Masterminded. She never won a single challenge (and therefore was not once exempt from elimination), but still made it to the final episode! The jury didn't even get the satisfaction of bouncing Meggles -- she saw the writing on the wall and bailed! Ha! And she ooowned those flabby hoes at the ILM reunion. MASTERMINDED.  

Know what else is disappointing? Oh maybe that instead of buying my Megan-Brandi C. Rollergirls show (worst pitch meeting EVER!), VH1 has slated for a Fall premiere Real Chance At Love starring I Love New York/ILM brothers Real and Chance. Yes, those corny putzes. One dresses like the cowboy and the biker from The Village People. The other one needed to bring a second man to harass a sleeping Mr. Boston. They get a show? Should be called Real Gay-Ass Love

Finally, crushing disappointment rocks the Metal world today. The long-awaited Cynic album becomes long-awaiteder. From Blabbermouth:
Traced in Air's North American release date has been pushed back to November 25 from the previously announced October 28. Commenting on the delay, guitarist/vocalist Paul Masvidal stated, "[The delay] offers us the potential to spread the word even more about this album. Sean [Reinert; drums] and I are extremely proud of the new record and are looking forward to sharing it with Cynic fans around the world, even if we have to wait just a bit longer. We're thrilled about touring with Opeth next month in Europe, and of course the States' tour beginning in January is going to be on fire!"


Ventura's Warbringer is awesome live. I can't remember the last time that I've seen a lead singer command the crowd to headbang. Probably because it never happened since I came up in the age of "moshing." Um yeah I'm as angry a hate-filled jerk as the next h-fj but why are we all taking running starts then striking each other? That shit sometimes hurts, but usually just startles the shit outta you mid-toke. And god dammit those dudes sweat all over the fucking place and I'm not ready to wear a rain poncho at the damn show. Why don't we all just headbang? A room full of people headbanging looks coooool.

Sure, dudes will tell you that ahem moshing is about the blowing off of steam and I'm for that. But let's do that in public. And not to each other -- to yuppies! Those fuckers are everywhere. And secondly, I hate dancing that requires such energy that the dancers forget they are listening to music at all. If one is moshing and shit, then that is what he or she is doing; therefore, that person came to the Metal place in order to dance! That's PUSSGAY. Metal people no dance. Metal people do Metal! Raise fist. Bang head. Shout as necessary. Doesn't require a partner. Dancers out of Metal!