A lot of money and countless hours in small, Ikea-scented offices have been spent in the effort to settle my personal issues with W.A.S.P. main man Blackie Lawless. My analysts say I'm getting there. I asked them to just brainwash me into believing that W.A.S.P. music is the work of some other person, but alas the twice-daily horsepills just thoroughly cloud the W.A.S.P. region of my brain; taken with the fact that Blackie's latest installment in his series of records that share monikers with cock-rings (The Crimson Idol, Unholy Terror, The Neon God) didn't even see U.S. release, yeah you see how 2007's Dominator could slip my mind for 16 months. 

Anyway, Dominator (watch out ladies) is somewhere near Dying For The World and Helldorado on the meh scale. Some solid hooks, lotsa unintentionally hilarious lyrics. But it's way less cheap-sounding than preceding albums. That's something.

Hey this is embarrassing but does anybody know what W.A.S.P. stands for? We Are Satan's People? We Are Sex Perverts? Want A Signed Picture? Wet Asses Seek Penetration? None of those sounds good. Anyway, since the W.A.S.P. brand is in its death throes, maybe Blackie's next record could be credited to C.B.N.P. (Clever Band Name, Penisbreath).




You have a point if you find that this barely qualifies as newsworthy. On the other hand, you are a major pussy. Whoa burrrrrn! Testament's Eric Peterson talks about the next Testament record to England's MetalheadzFM:
2008's The Formation Of Damnation is setting up for the next record and all the work were doing right now is setting up for a bigger idea. [As of now,] there are about four songs. We even have a slow song but we thought they weren't ready yet. I mean, I prefer playing stuff like "DNR" and "The Formation Of Damnation" and there's other guys in the band who like to play the more rock melodic style. The next [record] is gonna be a bit heavier, I think.
Y'know, when I first heard Testament masterpiece #3, The Gathering (1999), it seemed pretty damn solid for a band past their prime. After a few more spins, it qualified as great considering all the line-up changes and y'know, the death of real Metal. Then it hit me that the shit is fucking perfection, thanks in no small part to drummer Dave Lombardo and some career performances from Peterson and singer Chuck Billy. Heavy as fuck, catchy as hell. The only problem with The Gathering, I now realize, is the absence of guitarist Alex Skolnick. Well shut my mouth; it's 2009 and Skolnick + heavier than TFoD = The Gathering II! And did I mention that Faith No More is gonna tour?! BONER TIME 2009.




Maybe I'm insecure about my towering ignorance, but still I'll maintain that the meaning of Godzilla wasn't lost on only me. That shit was about a giant lizard bent on stomping Japan into a fine paste, right? That is so awesome that it wasn't until my 20s when I discovered that Godzilla was a nuclear mutant, a metaphor for man's recklessness and bloodlust. Wow. Next you'll tell me Mothra is a warning against energy-wasting porch lights.

Don't be surprised, but despite my razor sharp intellect, I whiffed a second time when four Metal guys took the name Gojira, the native pronunciation, for their awesome band. Again, I reeled at the hugeness, the thunderousness, and signified my ascent with a fist-pump. As Gojira frontman Joseph Duplantier began to address his social views, I had to shamefully duh myself a second time; of course a band called Gojira was going to crush us with their oh-sah-mu pah-wah but not in the name of dominance, steakhead; nay, this Gojira, too, was trying to tell us something.

And thus we are slammed by the quartet's fourth and best album, 2008's The Way Of All Flesh, a masterpiece of post-post hardcore metal. Think of a hyper-charged Chaos A.D. or less patient Lateralus. Think of metal that is manly not macho, dominating but not domineering; the latter terms describe the Anselmo/FSU falsehood, the deep sea fish aglow to scare off those who could consume it. The Bullshit Artist. Gojira is confident without the bluster, a shark who eats on an empty stomach; riffs cycle to saturation and never past it with little variation. In fact, Flesh, like The Crown's Possessed 13, is the antithesis to The Song That Ends Too Soon, like "Breath After Breath" by Duran Duran and Bruce Dickinson's "Strange Death In Paradise." There's a downside, as first listens reveal seemingly little but a list of unfamiliar collections of notes. Once they sink in, however, it's apparent that Duplantier is the picture of restraint, brilliantly guiding each song along its due course.

Which wouldn't matter if the riffs weren't as enormous as they are. With The Way of All Flesh, it seems likely that Duplantier and fellow guitarist Christian Andreu have made grateful fans of both spastic Melt-Banana guitarist Agata Ichirou (those screeching natural harmonic-rakes) and pick-hand studs like Steve Morse (winding progressions powered by stamina riffs). Each riff is melodic and binding, glued to the subtle melodicism of Duplantier's split-octave vocals, which give Flesh a passing resemblance to Mastodon's Blood Mountain. Conveniently, Gojira's other superstar is also named Dupantier, drummer Mario, who turns in fresh and pulverizing work both early and late in Flesh ("Toxic Garbage Island," "Vacuity").

Like all instant classics, Flesh is best compared to the status of other records, not the composition. For example, when Duplantier kicks off the album's third act with the single line "You have the power to heal yourself!" ("Esoteric Surgery"), it recalls the rolled-out run-up on "Ghosts of War" by Slayer and counters the historic opening to The Cult's piece de resistance Sonic Temple: "This is where it all ends." Which is fitting since The Way of All Flesh is lengthy (70 minutes), and might suffer from one too many peak-and-valley sets; surely, Duplantier has a lot to say, resulting in a mercifully brief but needless spoken word stretch on the title track. I'll be sure to shout that at the bottom of his foot as it smooshes me to the Shinjuku pavement.


So count on HooM! to be your Faith No More reunion spaz attack headquarters for the foreseeable future. If that's a problem, then um take it up with consumer affairs, fuckface. Oh yeah while I'm barking orders, let's all relax about the Jon Hudson situation. His parts were great on Album Of The Year, and, had he gotten the chance to settle in, would've been awesome on further FNM releases. Plus, logistically speaking he makes sense; do you think Martin would learn/play stuff from AotY and/or King For A Day, Fool For A Lifetime? Nah. 

And for my final missive before whacking off on the Angel Dust booklet (again), I hereby decree the following as the Official Faith No More Monkey Cage Reunion Tour 2009 setlist:
  • Land Of Sunshine
  • Ricochet
  • Stripsearch (play the solo twice)
  • Falling To Pieces
  • Caffeine
  • The Gentle Art Of Making Enemies
  • Last Cup Of Sorrow
  • From Out Of Nowhere
  • Digging The Grave
  • Smaller And Smaller
  • Helpless
  • The World Is Yours
  • Ugly In The Morning
  • Malpractice
  • The Real Thing
  • The Last to Know
  • Collision
  • Absolute Zero (above)
  • Suprise! You're Dead!
  • King For A Day
  • A Small Victory
  • Ashes To Ashes
  • The Perfect Crime
  • Easy
  • We Care A Lot
[encore 1]
  • Crack Hitler
  • Underwater Love
  • Everything's Ruined
  • Epic
[encore 2]
  • What A Day
  • Pristina
  • Just A Man
  • Midnight Cowboy



Holy sweet merciful mother of fuck. Faith No More. Reunion. Tour. Finally. Bassist Billy Gould in a statement to Blabbermouth:
Throughout our 17 years of existence, the mental and physical energy required to sustain [Faith No More] was considerable and relentless. Though amicable enough, when we finally split, we all followed paths seemingly destined to opposite ends of the universe. Yet during the entire 10 years that have passed since our decision to break up, we've experienced constant rumors and requests from fans and promoters alike. Nevertheless, for whatever reason, none of us kept in regular touch, much less to discuss any possibilities of getting together.

What's changed is that this year, for the first time, we've all decided to sit down together and talk about it. And what we've discovered is that time has afforded us enough distance to look back on our years together through a clearer lens and made us realize that through all the hard work, the music still sounds good, and we are beginning to appreciate the fact that we might have actually done something right. Meanwhile, we [now] find ourselves with zero label obligations, still young and strong enough to deliver a kick-ass set, with enthusiasm to not only revisit our past but possibly add something to the present. And so with this we've decided to hold our collective breaths and jump off this cliff.... BACK, GOD FORBID, INTO THE MONKEY CAGE!!!

We can only hope that the experience of playing together again will yield results erratic and unpredictable enough to live up to the legacy of FNM.
Whenever I get all retrospective (around hour three of mushrooms), it becomes clear that the turning point in my life was soon after gazing on a cassette copy of FNM's epic (sorry) album The Real Thing through shreds of wrapping paper a little more than ugh 19 years ago. Days later, when the album sank in, the seemingly unconquerable outside world from which I'd retreated suddenly shrank to a manageable size, a perspective viewed effortlessly from all angles. If these five non-brain surgeons could master something so elusive and intangible (pop music) while coming off like drug-gobbling, piss-drinking, fish-torturing goofballs, then SHIT so could I. Thanks, Dad!


A few months back when word leaked that Faith No More's bookers had placed holds on European venues for summer 2009, some promoter told Metal Hammer that FNM had yet to get "their PR machine together," presumably meaning that hype attendant to this huge would-be event was lacking. That's true but who could predict the prescience of that statement, as the life-changing news of an actual tour by the world's greatest band (yes) has been confirmed as an aside, an afterthought to one of Mike Patton's many inessential projects. Not etched into the surface of the moon or delivered via press conference by leaders of all nations. 

It seems that The Tripwire followed up with Patton's Ipecac Records:
As confirmed tonight by his label and publicist, Mike Patton has announced that Faith No More will be reuniting for a European summer tour. While no other info has been given, we’ve been told that the tour will only take place in Europe, the dates are “to come” and there are absolutely no plans to tour the States. We’ve also been informed that Patton will not be doing interviews about the subject.
Pitchfork Media is reporting that the final FNM line-up (guitarist: Jon Hudson) will do the tour, but that's supposedly drawn from the Tripwire report, which confirms no line-up information. Other Bitchdork claims include that FNM traded in something called 'skronky jazz textures' (not really, dude) and 'awkward white-guy rapping' (do you mean 'awkward white-guy raping'?) and that Metal at the time was 'profoundly regressive.' IGNORANT. 



God Forbid guitarist/HooM! commenter Doc Coyle should be a proud dude on this the official release day of his band's ripping fifth album, Earthsblood. So why did he go out of his way to drive a knife into my back? Coyle writes in MetalSucks:
Vocally, I love "The Rain" because of the diversity, and on a few parts, like the chorus, it’s Byron [Davis, vocalist], Dallas [Coyle, guitars], and I all singing together, which shows one of the strengths of the band. I dig the solos on this track too. I was really trying to do some new stuff. [On] our last record, [Constitution of Treason], it felt like my solos were getting a little stale.
Um ok my feelings aren't hurt or anything, but let me just say that I've taken those very guitar solos to bed with me on many a night and made passionate yet tender love to them. With extensive cuddling afterward. Granted, I'm not sure which COT solos belong to whom (Doc, Dallas, or producer Jason Suecof) but each rips. First thing tomorrow, I'm gonna slap Doc with a glove. I believe it shall be an Isotoner.


So I've been patting Lacuna Coil on the back for hiring a big-dollar producer (Don Gilmore) for Shallow Life, their upcoming 18th album. The Italian sextet (hee hee) released the album's tracklisting yesterday snore but whoa I almost didn't notice way down there the first single "Spellbound" (above). It's hard to believe that LC's sound could be dumbed-down further, but here we are with "Spellbound"'s barely-mid tempo pop punk beat, kinda yucky guitar solo, and incessant repeating of the title (which is "Spellbound"). That's fine and all but what I will not tolerate is this gross underuse of singer Cristina Scabbia. Get your shit together, Gilmore.


The Metal Inquisition guys are inviting screaming sword attacks with the latest installment of  Metal Real Estate, their Pulitizer-winning investigative series*. Entertaining like a bloody car wreck, MRE has already peeled back the curtain to reveal modest to underwhelming lifestyles of Glenn Danzig and Anthrax's Joey Belladonna (ne Bellardini giggle). Then last week, MI obliterated any myth surrounding the lives of those cursed souls in Manowar (above, hey what's going on over there?), the ahem kings of metal, who, as it's twice iterated by MI's Lucho Metales, you'd think would have enough German festival money to move out of their parents' basement and quit that dry-walling gig. You'd think so, right? And you'd be wrong!

At risk of being a total asshole, I'll say that Manowar's financial standing is about proportionate to their musical skills. And jebus these guys had all of the '80s, when Metal made money, to set the foundations of wealth. (Is it possible they blew it all on furry underwear and tanning oil?) 

Conversely, awesome bands like Lamb of God and God Forbid are hitting their creative peaks in the era of illegal downloading and economic misery. But we shan't let the fate of Manowar befall LoG or GF, whose new records come out today. Let's start by toppling that awful, sexy Taylor Swift and the Grammy-bumped Alison Krauss/Robert Plant from atop the albums chart -- and installing real Metal royalty in their stead. mmGO!
*Not true



That Maria Brink. She fronts a shitty band and uses her only comparatively good looks to sell it. And now her publicist can delight in misleading horny Metal guys with headlines like Maria Brink Poses For Playboy even though I've seen more of Brink with a carefully positioned mirror than this single pic reveals. I don't think it should be legal to appear in Playboy with clothes on; chicks are sitting around fully-attired everywhere thank you very much. And look closely -- if she repositions that right arm, those danglers will cascade grotesquely down her fupa. They're not good tits -- just big tits. The kind that explode from unfastened bras like two sacks of rice flung down the stairs. The kind that offend the tops of your feet with their incessant staring. The kind that obey no laws of our physical universe. Go back to the fourth dimension, floobs!


So following that unforgivable Robbin Crosby crack, I spent the weekend blasting Ratt and reading up. Back in the '80s, details of an album's production were scarce so I had no idea that Michael Schenker of all people contributed guitars uncredited to Detonator (due to Crosby's uh unavailability) and what else do I find but that sources insist that Ratt's great 1988 album Reach For The Sky is universally reviled as a dud. What the fuck is that? Sure, "I Want A Woman" is dumb as shit while obnoxious is not a big enough term to describe the final minute of "Bottom Line" but come on. Those tunes rock anyway and there are no absolute pukers like "Dance" or "Wack Off Communication." Few pop-rock songs are as memorable or sweet as "What's It Gonna Be" and I bet dollars to donuts that fucking Aerosmith is jealous of "Way Cool Jr" (knocker-packed video above, also cute Boogie Nights-themed clip here). Toss in opener "City To City" and kinda hilarious ballad "I Want To Love You Tonight" and BAM you got yourself some pure awesome. Fuck off, world.



Like you needed me to tell you. This shit is so desperately retarded that even I am embarrassed for the Oscar show producers and the multitudinous celebrities who were either snubbed or unsubtly declined to present. In the meantime, enjoy a clip of all the best and most hilarious profanity from the Best Picture noms, among them not included is The Dark Knight. Which just broke the $1 billion mark. You read that right. One BILLION dollars worldwide. So you can see why it's not up for best picture. And yet it's just so hard to figure out why no one watches the ghastly Oscars telecast. Despite the fact that it's on Sunday night. Yeah people would rather watch a meth-head build houses. Personally I'd rather rock the current play count champion on my iPod, Whitesnake's "Wings of the Storm," for three hours then deal with this bullshit. 



Someone should tell Scottish people that it's impossible to get AIDS from a statue of a guy who had AIDS. It's an easy mistake; I wore gloves when handling Ratt CDs 'til 2005 when some filmstrip hipped me. Apparently word hasn't reached Edinburgh yet cuz a 19-ft. bronze Freddie Mercury is not welcome there. From The Scotsman:
The plan was to display the 680 kg tribute to Queen singer Freddie Mercury on the pavement outside the Edinburgh Playhouse, before a production of We Will Rock You scheduled for November. Local businesses welcomed the plan, but council leaders have said it could block pedestrians going to and from the venue and might prove to be a distraction to people driving past.
Just admit it you assholes. Traffic distractions and pedestrian obstruction? That's exactly what they said about that guy Pedro on The Real World. Wait a sec -- I bet the statue of Sean Connery refused to share a bathroom with it. And you fuckers caved. That's what this is about isn't it. I expected better from you, godforsaken, rainswept Edinburgh. 



It's not just Riki Rachtman's tenure on Headbanger's Ball that soured my relationship with MTV; that's the main thing but holy shit those jackasses can't do anything right. Like how H'sB blog (not linked on purpose) reports that Testament is reissuing their killer Live At Eindhoven '87 EP -- this time including the entire set from the then-fledgling band's European festival debut. Awesome, right? So I'm all excited to obey the headline and hear an adrenaline-amped version of "Disciples of the Watch" recorded before 30,000 Euro-metalheads but the cocksmoking link is broken. For three days. Eat shit and die, MTV. Well except Jessica Smith (above, standing second from right) knockerz rool lolz!! :P



I keep residence in the borderless nation of Metal but occasionally vacation in non-Metal. While abroad, it's easy to get freaked out by disquieting shit like yellow fire hydrants (guitars with little distortion) or houses with no basements (the absence of blast beats). Feeling adventurous? Then spend a summer backpacking in intimidating electronic music like Autechre or threatening spazz-jazz by any John Zorn project. Need a relaxation vacation? Then spoil yourself at temperate melodic rock resorts at the isles of Sloan or Supergrass, whose title track (above) to sophomore album In It For The Money is like a pale, British cousin to "You Can't Bring Me Down" by Suicidal* and Overkill's "Coma". Whoa conflicting analogies. Happy travels!

*"It's Not Me" from the same Supergrass record is also reminiscent of a Lights Camera Revolution Suicidal song, "Emotion No. 13." Weird.



W.A.S.P. frontman Blackie Lawless (above) taught me all about ahh the duality of man. That's the charitable way of saying that he should be way cooler than he is. That is, if the message of his music is any indicator. Well, it's not cuz apparently he likes to fuck like a beast and to reason like a drunk retard. Sorry drunk retards. Don't boycott HooM! for symbolically lowering you to Blackie's level. Though I guess ol' dickbone has been doing to very same to his suffering neighbors in Malibu. That's about to change so if you're in the market for a creepy $1.7 million retreat from which a woman can't escape before the roofies kick in and featuring a wine cave in which to imprison her -- it's your lucky day! Blackie's dreamy real estate agent describes the newly-for sale property:
Just 3 easy miles from Leo Carillo Beach sits this secluded and very private 2.75 +/- acre Malibu retreat. Recently upgraded main house including outdoor BBQ/entertaining area, wine cave, stone guest house and an additional out building. Beautiful hand-crafted rock walls wind throughout this majestic property. Mature oaks, pines and so much more. Incredible views of Boney Ridge, miles of adjacent hiking trails. The perfect hideaway....
I'm no etymologist yet I'm certain that the term perfect cannot apply to anything tainted by the lingering stench of a 52-year old man's sawblade codpiece or echoes of the thin, unendurable The Neon God records. Those two deal-breakers should knock the price down so I can scoop it up and entice chicks back to my place for "incredible views of Boney Ridge" nyuk nyuk nyuk. 


There are two equally odious sides to the dreaded Radio Remix. I don't even know if they pull this bullshit anymore, but it's not to be confused with the Radio Edit (shrinking the song); this is more like a wholesale pussification of the original track, replete with added backing vox and an alternate pussy-friendly mix. OK I get it, the record company wants to reach more pussies, sell more copies, make money, blah bling blort. But does it not shock and dismay the drivetime/workday radio pussy to purchase Whitesnake's 1987 self-titled album only to find a less pussy version of "Here I Go Again," not the pussy-ass radio remix that the pussy loves dearly? 

Though just as often it's the reverse, like oh say when a lover of one of L.A. Guns' two good songs catches its repugnantly overproduced evil twin (above) on Dee Snider's House of Hair, resulting in a spray of cherry Mountain Dew/vodka (it's called a Code Dred) down the side of my lily white fridge. Oh the horror how they ruined this classic song. Recoil from the tacked-on guitar solos! Shriek in terror at the edge-smoothing synths! Cower from the Milli Vanilli chorus singers as they dwarf Phil Lewis's original vocal. OK fine the aaahhhh that follows "You take and you take all you can" (1:44) is a nice touch. Otherwise AAAH burn it send it to hell.


If you haven't already downloaded the cracking new Lamb Of God record Wrath like the thieving screwfuck you are, then be happy that the full record streams here. Yep. On their myspace page. Which ensures sound quality suggestive of a dime-sized speaker blaring from the depths of your obese seventh-grade teacher's ass. Turn it up! Oh wait I mean down


If a momentary hush fell across your town and your living room lights dimmed, it's obviously because the beloved Ultraspank has announced its historic reformation. I hope they tour with Hoobastank and Spineshank. No but seriously, in news that living humans actually care about, Blabbermouth reports that former Faith No More guitarist Jim Martin will not take part in FNM reunion shows, which do not exist:
A source close to guitarist Jim Martin, who was in the group from 1983 until 1993, has told Blabbermouth that the axeman recently expressed interest in taking part in the reunion after being contacted by keyboardist Roddy Bottum and a member of the band's management, but that the band [has now] decided to utilize a different guitarist — believed to be one of several musicians that were in Faith No More following Martin's exit from the group — for the upcoming dates.
On one hand, it's safe to assume that the tip originates with Martin himself, since it's tough to imagine that there truly are "sources close to" him. OK that sounds pretty mean but last we heard, his passions included pumpkin-farming and no longer being a member of Faith No More, two activities that don't encourage business representation. Or even casual acquaintance. On the uh same hand, accepting the Blabbereport as true would mean there's creedence to the reunion rumors, that life is worth living, and finally, that I'd be forced to stop killing myself with drugs and Fritos. I don't know if I'm ready for that.



It could use more sweaty heshers and flame-engulfed amps, but still the poster (above) for the forthcoming Iron Maiden tour doc illustrates why I love Metal. Which is that the band's religious wingnut drummer Nicko McBrain (second from right) is pictured next to a gigantic 666. I'm gonna become a member of McBrain's church and wait for a quiet moment during prayer to bellow "Out! Hypocrite drummer demon! Out!" Just kidding I'd never do something as immature as joining a church.


Trent Reznor on NIN.com:
2009 marks the 20th anniversary of NIN's first releases. I've been thinking for some time now it's time to make NIN disappear for a while. After some thought, we decided to book a last run of shows across the globe this year. The approach to these shows is quite different from [the Lights In The Sky tour] — much more raw, spontaneous and less scripted. Fun for us and a different way for you to see us and [then] wave goodbye. I reached out to Jane's to see if they'd want to join us across the U.S. and we all felt it could be a great thing. Will it work? Will it resonate in the marketplace? Who knows. Is there big record label marketing dollars to convince you to attend? Nope. Does it feel right to us and does it seem like it will be fun for us and you? Yes it does.
Usually this kind of thing sets off all sorts of alarm bells but Trent Reznor is fucking cool and NIN doesn't need any help making money. It's easier to be suspicious of Jane's Addiction since none of those cats have done anything vaguely successful in a while (even I was surprised by the cold, quiet swandive of The Satellite Party whoa), so it could be that they're undertaking this tour for wont of other career options. 

But Jane's was awesome enough -- even (though to a lesser degree) their corporate rock semi-reunion album Strays (a safe, skittish return not unlike Chinese Democracy) -- that we might consider brushing aside the why to focus on the what: Two incredibly influential, memorable bands plotting a potentially monster tour without record label backing. (Don't sign with AEG or LiveNation please.) Not only will these shows be intensely entertaining, but again Reznor is operating around industry standards with a wonder and boldness to the extent that even he is unsure of his success. Wow. Did anyone expect Trent Reznor to be the last Rock 'N Roll icon?



On this Presidents Day Monday, you may be saying that the US military is demonstrating its horribly misplaced priorities by publicly honoring hair rocker Kip Winger (Winger/Kip Winger) for Winger's Winger IV album. And normally I'd agree with you. And I'll agree with you now, too. This shit is ridiculous.
Multi-platinum recording artist Kip Winger was recently presented with an honorary plaque and a historic flag by the government of the United States. Winger was recognized for his musical composition "Blue Suede Shoes" honoring the service and sacrifice of the United States armed forces and their families [sic]. 

Winger IV's concept and emphasis was [sic] on our [sic] military and what it was like to be solider, form [sic] a soldiers [sic] perspective, leaving politics at the door [all sic]. Kip had a vision to support the American troops that are standing ground in Iraq and elsewhere. 
That's a slap in the face, huh? Oh I don't mean to the neglected people lugging all those guns around the freaking desert, but to Queensryche and Filter, both of whom have authored albums about the conflicted life of a US soldier. It's all politics. 


Like all loudmouths, I love whaling on easy targets but ugh it's exhausting. So a lot of opportunist nonsense in Metal (and elsewhere) is best dismissed with rolled eyes and a curt wave of the hand. And even a worshipper of Dio-era Rainbow could effortlessly glaze over the news of a knockoff band featuring ninth-string singer Joe Lynn Turner, a slumming Tony Carey, and a guy related to guitarist Ritchie Blackmore, all performing under the exploitive and hideous moniker Over The Rainbow. That's so third world, like buying elephant tusks or hunting homeless children for sport. 

It's so beneath me that I hadn't planned to acknowledge this back-alley abortion to myself, let alone spend oh seven minutes typing words about it. But alas live clips of OTR's debut performance (above) are indeed vile enough to successfully drag HooM! into the sludge. Damn. Turner explains to somebody who cared enough to ask: 
I was sitting in Russia with a few promoters [who asked me] "You know, it would be great to have a Rainbow reunion. Do you think that'll ever happen?" [I replied] "Well, you know, you're not going to get Ritchie, you know what I mean? He's really happy doing what he's doing. It wouldn't work." So then it hit me. I said, "I think I have an idea." And they said, "What is it?" and I said, "Blackmore's got a son."
Duh-duh-DUHHHHHH! That's right, folks: two promoters and an also-ran singer solving the world's problems one at a time. No Rainbow reunion? Then enlist Blackmore's spawn and some other guys to tour Eastern Europe! Too drunk to get a boner? Use a doorstop!