That Jamey Jasta. Dude seems nice enough, but his resume doesn't exactly glow because of his unexceptional band Hatebreed (disagree at the peril of your credibility) and the funereal proceedings of Headbangers Ball (of which he is host). Apparently he's a glutton for punishment too, as not only has he agreed to work on a new solo album from notorious dunderhead Sebastian Bach, but this morning lobbed this softball:
All the Skid Row/Bach fans need not worry; I am not trying to infuse a Hatebreed/Kingdom of Sorrow sound or style. I'm just hoping to write and produce a bunch of GREAT anthemic metal/rock songs for him. Think Painkiller-era Priest meets Vulgar Display of Power meets Slave To The Grind.
Uh yeah whoa not trying to be a dick, but if Jasta were able to pen material on par with Paaain!Killah!, Vulgar, Slave (greatest hard rock album of all time?), I gotta ask: Why has he been holding this material back for a Sebastian Bach solo album that no one will hear? Cuz that'd be wacky. Zany, even.



I've seen some absurdly fun David Lee Roth solo shows, but afterwards it's hard to shake a vague feeling that maybe I'd just creeped everybody out with my geekish enthusiasm. To explain: I party, ok? And furthermore, DLR makes me smile. Call it misguided but Diamond Dave is my role model. So should he happen to glance in my direction at any point during the show, all he would see is a googly-eyed weirdo, shimmying around unblinkingly while sporting a ridiculous, sweaty grin. It's not my goddamn fault that the guy is pure giggles, is it now? Nor that when happy I look like a Robocop villain.

Speaking of having too much DLR fun: If I didn't live alone, I'm sure I'd have felt the cold caress of gun-metal at my temple after about six cacophonous minutes of the hilarious David Lee Roth "Running With The Devil" soundboard. As of this evening (thanks MetalSucks), upgrade that to the hum of a gas-powered anti-artillery weaponry for the David Lee Roth Assteroidz game. 

Incidentally, while doing a search for DLR pics, I stumbled upon a snap of this vixen that caused my boner to stage a sudden and unrepentant attack on my palm. Bo-zee-bo-zee bop! Ditty-bop!


File this in the Duh folder but man the resusitation of rank '70s novelty Alvin & The Chipmunks must be the work of a powerfully cynical bastard. Sure, artful children's programmers like Jim Henson could engage and stimulate young people, the motherfucker would say, but is it not equally important to release collections of pop songs helium-screeched by computer-generated rodents? And in the interest of blitzing the logic circuits of any present adults, let's tweak any potentially suggestive lyrics to maximize impact of the A&TC brand. Ref. the Chipmunked version of Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'," which replaces 
A singer in a smokey room
The smell of wine and cheap perfume
For a smile they will share the night
It goes on and on and on and on
A singer in a cloudy room
The smell of fur and cheap cartoons
For a smile they will watch our show
It goes on and on and on and on
OK in the name of everything holy it's disturbing enough to imagine the prelude to a christfucking CHIPMUNK ONE-NIGHT STAND without considering the smell of fur. And what the goddamn fuck is a cloudy room

When I eventually dynamite the screwfucks responsible, I'll include on that list the movie theater whose pre-show sound system planted that shitty unmusic -- along with a medley of Seal channeling his inner Chipmunk on an unnecessary covers project of his own -- into my brain where it would fester throughout the entirety of My Bloody Valentine 3D. Which was awesomely dumb but fatally flawed in that star Jaime King (above, surprise!) was wardrobed in loose flannel and flat, brown hair. That's even more wrong than Alvin & The Chipmunks! That's like listening to Dokken's "Burning Like A Flame" (below) but not dancing around while singing into a hairbrush. Seriously fuck the world.


For a second there, I was too gutted by early exits from the Australian Open for both Jelena "Weird Jel" Jankovic and Ana Ivanovic (above) to continue tittering in anticipation for late winter/early spring Metal new releases. The super-foxes of tennis were seeded 1 and 3, respectively, so I'd been banking on at least another few days of hot, sweaty grunting I mean world-class athleticism.  

But again Metal comes to the rescue for angry cock-blockees like me: As described by the band, the forthcoming Mastodon album sounds like a reimagining of the Genesis masterpiece The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway; everything we've heard from Wrath indicates that Lamb Of God is meaner, more confident, better-produced than ever (wow); shit, even the new Cannibal Corpse (streaming here) is terrif. Never thought I'd say that. Cool.

And yesterday, God Forbid made like a tipsy bridesmaid and flashed us some pre-hookup boob from Earthsblood, their initially worrying but now extremely exciting fifth album. Called "Walk Alone" (below), it's pretty hard-rockin' and may be a love song. Just sayin'.




Since watching Get Thrashed last month, I've been really pissed recalling stupid grunge music from the 90s. It really sticks in my craw that real Metal -- and solid rock bands like Dangerous Toys, Junkyard, BulletBoys (ok BulletBoys were tempting fate) -- went down with the hair rock ship. It suddenly was fashionable to slag oh-faced crotch rockers and declare mirthless alternative rock the savior of music and the world as a whole. Pfft. 

Now those same face-mulleteers stand in awe of bands like Mastodon (rightly) as though engaging, ambitious, intensely musical metal had hitherto not existed (wrong). Like Thrash Metal had never evolved beyond the Baloffian mosh anthem or Kill 'Em All-style paens to the unyielding glory of metal. It makes me want to slap that bottle of Stella to the floor, grab dudes by the beard and screech 'Ever hear Voivod's Nothingface, Mr. Tightpants? Oh you like the schizophrenic despair of Nirvana's In Utero? Yeah, um Suicidal Tendencies did that on How Will I Laugh Tomorrow.' 

These are the same dingleberries who used to hurriedly defend their overtly racist taste in good rap (not that silly gangster shit), when anyone with at least one testicle (symbolic or otherwise) knows that 'conscious' hip hop is insufferably smug, generally unlistenable, and strictly for pussies. And that irresponsible gun-toting druggies like Ghostface and Geto Boys rule. Now they do the same for Metal, as in 'Yeah but Mastodon is good metal. Not that silly shit like Slipknot mwhaw.'

Whew. Sorry what I meant to say is Check out the new Mastodon Crack The Skye artwork (above). The album's second song "Diviniations" streams here (at the 21:30 mark); the sure-to-be historic album out late March! Probably.



We've already reached our cheap-shot limit at HooM! today (thanks Tripp Eisen) and hey this is serious so let's forgo any obvious jokes about lethal Slipknot music. How big of me. From Iowa's Daily Nonpareil:
According to EMS director Rick Benson, after [Slipknot's Council Bluffs, Iowa] concert last night, Cory Nickels, 29, stated he was not feeling well. As rescue personnel assisted him, Nickels suffered cardiac arrest. Benson said CPR was performed and Nickels was transported by ambulance to Jennie Edmundson Hospital, where he was later pronounced dead.
Though the article goes on to imply that the culprit is inherited heart trouble, I know it often feels like my chest is going to explode from crowd-crush, especially at shows with lotsa y'know young people in attendance. A good idea is to rub cocaine all over your sweaty chest during a set break. It kills the pain, chicks think it's sexy, and your heart is too fucking high to stop working. Right?


We all know that there are few things more embarrassing than unwittingly hiring a sex pervert for your already iffy rock band. Chalk that up to a big whoopsie-doodle for Wayne Static of Static-X, for whom I've always secretly rooted to overcome the considerable handicap of being from Chicago. Oh and fronting an awful band. So when the story broke in 2006 that Static-X guitarist Tripp Eisen (above, rrrar!) would do jail time for cyber-pederasty, my heart sank a bit for Mr. Tall Hair and his disco-metal outfit. At least the super-duper former Warner Bros. publicist Monica Seide wouldn't be stuck with damage control. 

Now I for one knew something was fishy back when the then-newly enlisted Eisen revealed to me plans for a Static-X covers album to include the Steely Dan favorite "Hey Thirteen." It's called "Hey Nineteen" but who's counting right? Oh. The federal authorities are counting. From MetalSucks:
Eisen went and done it again [sic], according to New Jersey Department of Corrections website, which helps track local sex offenders; a report says Eisen attempted “to lure or entice a child” in October of ‘08, a violation of the terms of his parole. Consequently, he’s been back behind bars since December, where he will apparently remain until October.
Ah MetalSucks: Come for the rap sheet but stay for the zing (ref. concluding paragraph)! Sadly, MS co-chief Axl Rosenberg's hilariousness exposes the lame nature of my material on the once-great Warrior Soul's quest for obscurity. I was just gonna make fun of the total so-what? line-up change but what's the point now. Happy, Professor McChuckles? From Blabbermouth:
Warrior Soul has parted ways with drummer Rob "Stevo" Stephenson and replaced him with Billy Williams. Frontman Kory Clarke stated: "[Williams is] fucking nuts. He fits right in, knows the material, and can rock with anyone I've ever played with. He'll be a blast to hang out with again!"
Oh wait how about this: Somebody should tell Eisen that's what happens when you "Push It" too far! Talk about a Wisconsin Death Tripp! That band should be called Statick-XXX. OK I'll just let myself out.



It's a slow news day so I, too, took most of the afternoon to free-associate the identity of the unannounced co-headliners of the upcoming Slayer tour. Oh yeah let's get this out of the way:
According to the Artisan News Service, veteran Los Angeles thrashers Slayer will announce a new co-headlining tour on Monday.
Typically Slayer teams with some admirable but crummy non-Metal band like Marilyn Manson or whatever and that kinda makes sense cuz real Metal people have all seen Slayer like 400 times. I can't remember when I haven't seen Slayer. I also can't recall what I had for breakfast today but anyway now that Metal is again pretty serious profit-wise, they should go with a real heavy-hitter. Most are already spoken for with killer tours of their own, except Mastodon and jeez they just got off tour with Slayer. And Mastodon will do their own tour, right? Please?

What about Testament, who promised me January tour dates back in August (best show ever) but have been quiet since? Those cats got juice lately. In fact, why not just grab fellow Clash Of The Titans (best tour ever) alum Anthrax for a delightful Clash of the Titans II tour? Megadeth isn't invited due to extreme suckage plus Dave's got his wack Gigantour brand anyway. Slayer, Testament, Anthrax ... Yummy. Now hmm a promising, not-thrash, kinda fruity band to open ... Protest The Hero? BAM! I'm going on break.


Earache Records you guys are precious. I mean, in these lean times, it's good strategy to exhaust all promotional angles, like for example to ride the buzz of Hate Eternal's career-best album, 2008's Fury & Flames (man I hate that ampersand in there wtf), by assembling a snazzy re-issue (out Tuesday) of its predecessor I, Monarch. Nothing wrong with that. Especially with a pro-shot live DVD tacked on. But the giggles come in around paragraph two of the Earache press release:
The Earache Classic Series recognizes some of the most important, influential, and groundbreaking albums to be released by Earache, with each reissued album including a bonus DVD full of extra content.
Hee hee the ahem Earache Classic Series bestows classic status on Earache releases; that's some mind-bending science there. Well fine then we at HooM! hereby unveil the 2008 HooM! Lifetime Achievement Award, presented to HooM! for excellence in Metal complaining. Thank you all for this historic honor! First I gotta thank my lady. We did it, baby!



I wish life came with built-in Benny Hill sound effects cuz a giant boioioioing would've sounded this morning as I peeped the just-announced The Faceless/Arsis/Misery Index/um Tony Danza Tap Dance Extravaganza tour. The awesome but limited run of dates kicks off Feb 21. Where the hell is Lancaster California?  

Anyway, that would've been followed by a Studebaker car horn ah-woo-gah after seeing the roster for the Third Annual California Metal Fest on March 28: Carcass, Suffocation, The Faceless, Arsis, Samael, and more. Carcass! [Horn fanfare] The whole shebangle goes down in Anaheim at The Grove, which is not Disney-owned, so expect no wingnut bans like the House of Whites um that is House of Blues removal of The Faceless from the Meshuggah/Cynic bill on February 1. [Flower wilt slide-whistle] Still, it's a good time to be METAL.


Hey speaking of Maiden I almost gnawed my fucking arm off at the despair of missing their Somewhere Back In Time tour last summer. Total fail on my part, especially considering the number of years I've been bitching about them overlooking Seventh Son of A Seventh Son classics in their setlist. The guys at Metal Injection have opened those wounds anew but who cares cuz holy shitballs check out the mini-trailer (above) from the forthcoming fulll-length Maiden doc Iron Maiden: Flight 666, by the producers of Metal: A Headbanger's Journey and Global Metal. That's quality work. Which you enjoy. Shh! 

Flight 666 lands at theaters on April 21. Ha lands. That's going on my resume.



Miley Cyrus is a whole lot of entitlement and annoying packed into a gangly 16-year old body, but so far, all she aspires to is queen bitch of spoiled teenagers. And while it curdles the blood to think she actually responds to gossip via video statements on her website, I say fuck it if she wants in to this exclusive club we call Metal. In a recent clip, her majesty states (via Blabbermouth):
I'm sure you all have seen me rocking an Iron Maiden shirt lately and I know there's been some people saying, 'Oh, she's a poser,' and 'The only reason she's wearing Iron Maiden is because she wants to be a rock star.' . . . So, Iron Maiden — 'Run To The Hills', 'Fear of the Dark', 'Running Free', [all] good song(s), check it out. So thank you, guys. I actually do like Iron Maiden.
You better be addressing your slavish fanbase and not the public at large, cuz no bitch I'm sure I have NOT seen you ahem rocking an Iron Maiden tee. I haven't seen you do shit. Secondly, "Fear of the Dark" is a stupid, stupid song. Lastly, that you listed a few Maiden songs by title doesn't mean you've earned the privilege of Maiden shirt ownership! I think the rule is one shirt per two albums. At least that's what I yelled at that phony in a Death Human shirt at the movies last summer before Mike subdued me with a full nelson. Then again, it's 2009 and we'll take what we can get. Hey she doesn't have a beard or date Devendra Banhart. All right superstar, you're in. Tell your dad he was wicked in Mulholland Drive.


Man I don't use the word cherish very often but hey I absolutely cherish the moment when a promising band drops an album or song or something that elevates them to extremely awesome. Such is Lamb of God's 2006 album Sacrament, the Virginia quintet's classic of spidery, hyper-catchy post-thrash. Sacrament's best moments helped make 2006 a historic Metal year, but the fact that LoG still fought occasional bouts of random riffage and stiff production just made my eyes bug as I considered that, though awesomely outrageous, Sacrament wouldn't be their best album for long. A masterpiece? Yes. A perfect album? No! So if LoG stayed hungry (and/or felt the fire), I reasoned, then their sixth record (now determined to be Wrath, out Feb. 24) would be boner-breaking ridiculous. You can just tell they have it in them.

Natch there's the concern that it's just as common for bands to wimp out a bit and rehash and regurgitate, especially after landing among the elite of a genre as LoG has. But holy shitballs check out the new Lamb of God tune "Set To Fail" streaming here. I saaaaid check it out! Oooh steaky guitar tone (awesome solo too)! The drums don't sound like DrumBot1995! Terrific chorus! VICTORY!

So everybody get out your wallets and let's propel Wrath and God Forbid's Earthsblood (also out Feb 24) to the top spots on the album chart at February's end. By my count, it'd take about 50,000 sold of each. No sweat! You'd only spend that $30 on beer and gum anyway. METAL!


While HooM! is your one-stop source for Metal-related finger-pointing, emphatic scolding, and other paranoid jerkery, I'm basically the stumpy guy shouting "Yeah motherfucker!" over the shoulders of bad-ass dudes at MetalSucks and Metal Injection. Those guys rock giveaways and exclusive interviews like whoa. 

But this is an era of change, and I think it's in this spirit that MetalSucks honchos Vince Neilstein and Axl Rosenberg welcome me into their stable of esteemed reviewers, forging a sure-to-be historic cross-ethnic Metal pairing. Yay! Sure, my hostility and cheap shots reach a much larger crop of dudes. But beyond that, it's a historic, Obama-inspired Judeo-Italian alliance: money hoarder and pickpocket; the guys who secret the world's funds to underground bunkers joined with the guys who beat up your uncle for over-seasoning the scungilli; latka-flippers and linguini-twirlers;  the Oy! and the Ayyy; a Kosher-Greaser coalition ("we've both got big noses and gold chains on our chests!") Thanks MS guys! I won't let you down!

Check out the HooM! review of Satyricon's The Age Of Nero at MetalSucks now, acapisci?



I was in this uppity bookstore a while back and freaked out after spotting those amusing George W. Bush novelty countdown clocks. It read that Junior had like 735 days left as president. By that point, hadn't he been ruining life for like 30,000 days? That's all behind us now. Take it, Baz!


Wrapping HooM!'s total coverage of the 2009 NAMM convention, we present video of Steve Vai blathering about some amp he designed man get a load of those alien fingers. When I saw Vai live, he was a totally nice, normal, pretentious guitar guy at the meet-and-greet before donning a long coat, setting up some industrial fans, and wanking without pity for 170 minutes on stage. Yeah it was great. 

Ok so Vai's a nerd big deal. But for stratospheric nerd ratings, get a load of the sexy fusion-metal band formed by two not-Paul Masvidal guys from Cynic and Textures drummer Stef Broks. From a press release via Blabbermouth:
With a jazz fusion backbone, Exivious uses freaky metal riffs to decorate their organic eruption of free improvisations and complex rhythms. Guitarist Tymon comments: "We finally managed to transform a vision I had a long time ago into nine intense and fiery songs. There's an immense amount of information in there that will definitely take more than one spin in your CD player to comprehend!" The band will release its debut album independently to preserve 100% creative freedom. 
CD player? Whoa there, gramps. Come join us in 2009. But seriously, tell us more about this vision of yours, Tymon. Does it include 12 guys with ponytails in a basement club? A tour with Liquid Tension Experiment? Special post-show music theory discussions? The occasional Cairo shirt? Guys, let me say, that shit is HOT! Especially the band name Exivious. More like SEXivious oh yeah. And we at HooM! applaud your hardline stance on distributing independently to prevent record industry meddling. Just like those pesky naked women who interfere with my jerking off. It's called integrity, ladies. 


I was cooking up some cock-and-bull story about how I 'accidentally' heard Paramore's 2007 album Riot! but we at HooM! adhere to a high standard of disclosure and alright alright I love that goddamn album. Pure Doritos music. I'd say Cool Ranch. Thanks producer/ghostwriter David Bendeth. Ahem.

Moving on did you know that on album closer "Born For This" (below, at :48), Hayley whatever and company reference "Liberation Frequency" from the legendary Refused record The Shape Of Punk To Come? After the shock wore off, I was kinda in denial about it until headphones revealed a ahem interpolation of the main riff buried in the mix beneath the borrowed lyric. 

It's an open nod, not a lift, so their motives are innocent -- but oh-so puzzling. I mean, what Paramore fan is going to spot a line ("We want the airwaves back") from an obscure hardcore song (below below, at :38)? Who familiar with Refused will last 40 minutes into Riot!? Uh besides me. I guess it's cool that Refused gets some royalties from platinum-selling mallcore brats; if there were any justice Shape woulda sold 8 bajillion copies anyway. But good lord why/how/how come this happened? Producer idea? Lost bet? Is this one of those things that lets the inessential guitar player exert some power over the band and claim some cred? "Sure," he'd say whoever he is, "our music is hyper-scrubbed insta-fluff. But who else shouts out one of the most revered albums of all time? Those posers in Fallout Boy? Pshaw!" 



I miss the shit outta Criss Oliva, guitarist of Savatage, who was killed in a car accident by some fucknut habitual drunk driver in 1993. Like Randy Rhoads, Oliva was just reaching his creative and technical peak at the time of his early death. Without Criss, Savatage's classic Streets: A Rock Opera teeters into schmaltz and showtune ham (witness the post-Criss Trans Siberian Orchestra, brought to you by Streets producer Paul O'Neill and the rest of Savatage). But Criss'sess's mind-blowing Streets solos are the definition of soul to combat his brother Jon's uh theatrical tendencies; Criss was like Kevin Garnett in the 2008 NBA Finals: no longer human, but fully transformed into a beam of pure light and energy. Ok that's a bit much but he carried that album from great to transcendent. 

Check out the tribute to Criss on the 15th anniversary of his death in the Greek edition of Rock Hard, freshly translated here. It's pretty sad stuff, but this story brought a big smile to my face. Savatage touring keyboardist John Zahner remembers:
In Tokyo, Japan at the Budokan, Savatage was opening for Yngwie Malmsteen. The promoter created a get-together so we could meet the great Yngwie, but apparently nobody told him. We were all at the door of the dressing room when the promoter walks over to Yngwie, who is playing a game or fucking around with a guitar, and introduces Criss and the band. Yngwie doesn't even turn around but says "Tell 'em to fuck off"! 

Criss walks over to him sticks out his middle finger and says “You're a fuckin' dick! You suck!” and marches out of the dressing room with all of us staring at him stomping down the stairs. As he walked by, Jon slapped him on the back with a look of pride I'll never forget! (Apparently, Yngwie was rude to Jon earlier that day and Jon was already pissed at him.) All of Yngwie's band were giving us "golf claps" as we headed down the steps!

That night, Criss was on a mission to bury Yngwie! When we played "City Beneath the Surface" he usually had a 20-second solo at the beginning. Not that night -- he fucking went crazy playing the most complex ridiculous shit EVER for almost two minutes! Fucking hysterical! Then he proceeds to play at such a level that Jon is forgetting words, just staring at Criss throughout the whole show. In Jon's own words if there is any video or audio tapes of that show we need it!! It's possibly the best Criss Oliva performance EVER!


I'm only mostly ashamed to admit that as a founding member of a Sylvester Stallone society -- OK fine the only Sylvester Stallone society, namely the Society for the Appreciation of Sylvester Stallone (S.A.S.S.) -- I've watched and discussed a Stallone masterpiece on a weekly basis for months. It's no secret that Stallone is godawful, but did you know that each of his films is exactly the same? Oh but it's true. At open, Stallone is a disenchanted loser, crushed by society's betrayal. Then, he's drawn into some web of deceit, the solution to which only he can determine. If only you philistines would listen to him. But no, you just don't understand, and so it's silently that Stallone carries his Christlike burden until he saves your ungrateful asses at the end of the movie. Credits. 

And then there's the homoeroticism. I swear Stallone is either gay or extremely immature. Apparently somebody agrees with me, somebody who effortlessly put together this re-cut trailer to arm-/wang-wrestling epic Over The Top (above, via Film Drunk) to cast Stallone's trucker Lincoln Hawk as a child rapist. It's hilarious, but those of us who've seen/been haunted by Over The Top will tell you it doesn't even require crafty remixing to play as a disturbing pedophile fantasy. Not with a central character who grapples sweatily with other men at trucker hangouts while his prissy son looks on. Not with lines like "Why doncha slide over and see if you can work the equipment?" And especially not with the closing credits song sung by Sammy Hagar (below). Hagar and Stallone should 'work together' more often. Down at the gym or at a highway rest stop, perhaps. 


I'm always griping that Vegas doesn't have any shows for the multitudinous rockers who visit each year. That may all change as America's Sweethearts, Cheap Trick, the best power-pop band ever, are rumored to have landed a regular headlining gig in Sin City. It's about time! I've been clamoring for some sort of Cheap Trick residency since the quartet played that series of four-night stands in 1998. The first night, they played their debut record; on the following night, it was In Color. And so on. Amazingly, on the Heaven Tonight night in Minneapolis, Joe fucking Perry and Steven goddamn sonofabitching Tyler of Aerosmith, after wrapping at the Enormodome just across the street, stopped by to join the Trick for "Train Kept A-Rollin'" and ... something else I can't remember because I was too busy trying to climb into Tyler's pants with him. 

Anyway, so what's the Cheap Trick Vegas Spectacular gonna consist of? How about a big-budget recreation of their entire Budokan set? That'd be priceless! There'd be nary a dry seat in the house! Well, as long as it's Cheap Trick songs and it rocks, who cares? Oh. It's not Cheap Trick songs. And it won't rock? I...see. The Las Vegas Review-Journal reports:
Cheap Trick is close to finalizing a headliner deal with the Las Vegas Hilton that would feature the group performing The Beatles' epic album Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band live with a full orchestra. Word has it their performances could begin as soon as March and stretch throughout 2009.
Uhhh. But why? The Beatles? An orchestra?? Word has it??? What year is this? What the fuck are you talking about?
Cheap Trick performed the landmark album in its entirety at the Hollywood Bowl in August 2007. The concert, which celebrated the album's 40th anniversary, featured guest appearances by Ministry's Al Jourgensen, Aimee Mann, Joan Osborne and The Hollywood Bowl Orchestra, among others. The artists also played other Beatles favorites, including "Magical Mystery Tour," "Norwegian Wood," and "Eleanor Rigby."
K I'm pretty sure that this is the most egregious misuse of rock 'n roll good-timery EVER. Hey dumbshits, I have an idea you might buy: AC/DC presents The Best of the Rolling Stones live at EuroDisney. Yep just make that bitch out to 'cash'.


That guitar shop scene in Wayne's World is totally accurate; in two decades, I've never been able to eye-fuck sweet, shiny guitars without some dingus distracting me with half-ass shreddery. You can just tell they're watching out of the corner of their eye as you're totally not wowed by their sloppy, awkward stab at "Walk With Me In Hell." If you detect a note of jealousy, congratulations smartguy, you're correct; as a godforsaken lefty, I don't get to sit around and demo dozens of guitars all fucking day. Instead, I'm marked as a shoplifter (as I thumb through tab books and fondle effects pedals) or as a retard (as I sorta-play right-handed axes upside-down). Or maybe I play the one dusty lefty model on the floor, usually a total chump guitar for losers. Hey I wanna waste time at the guitar store! I wanna show off my mastery of the "Malpractice" and "Ride The Lightning" solos! Chicks love that shit! Stupid life

Anyhow, it's equally irksome that tons of guitar awesomes were clustered at NAMM in Anaheim all weekend, whipping their dongs out for all to admire. Uh metaphorically, of course. But I couldn't finagle entre. Which is ironic, since it's the only time I'd want to see a bunch of guitarists sit on stools and show off. Check out this bastard (above), the dude from The Faceless, uh 'shredding the axe' all over the Washburn booth. Shedding the axe? What did those Japanese guys to the left write this press release?



Wigger-slam discourse emporium Metal Inqusition's first anniversary may have been knocked from the front page by the guy who safely splash-crashed a freaking jumbo jet in a NYC river, but it's a story of equal importance, folks. It truly is. Because just as an experienced, balanced pilot who extensively studies the psychology of air crisis management is the ideal guy to have in the captain's chair when some punk-ass birds opt to down a jetliner, the MI guys are your well-qualified and passionate guides through the tumultuous waters of Glenn Danzig's house, Robb Flynn's Disease, questionable graphic design, general metal embarrassment, and uh Crazytown. HooM! Horns on this day of celebration.