Hipsters out of Metal!

THE 666TH AND FINAL HOOM!

2009-11-02T09:00:00.000-08:00

Hey if you're reading this, you're cool and really attractive, so congratulations. Your awesomeness lives on even though, as of this writing, Hipsters Out Of Metal! will no longer. It's been like the most fun ever. And though I really love swearing and Metal, HooM! is like all I ever do. I barely can find time to check out these naked pictures of your mom and now her feelings are hurt. Gosh I guess I'm grateful for all her sacrifice. What kind of son/daughter are you anyway? For serious though, there actually exist some Unreleased HooM! columns, which explains the disparity between published (around 640) and written (the number of the beast). I'll spare you those duds, cuz there will be fresh, new Anso action continuing at MetalSucks.net, home of the awesomest Metal commentary ever nuuuge. During my impromptu vacation last week, I told Axl and Vince about my imminent surplus of free time. After a series of blowjobs, it was agreed that I'd write stuff more often for MS. That's cool of them, so in turn I vow to refrain from use of terms like fagz, pussgay, or drunk retards; by 2016, I will work to phase out corruptions like Judass Priest and Killswish Engayge. Realistically I'm shooting for 2020.

But seriously HooM! started as a means to taunt and defame my then-boss and his ilk while simultaneously serving as a garbage can for unrelated pettiness and panting worship. I hadn't realized the extent of Testament and Steel Panther talk. Of course, for every John 5 or Badlands that I tongue-bathed, there walks a wanker with a karmic brand across his balls that reads Traitor To Metal. The good news is that I'll be there for all the pathetic, desperate wankers. And by there I mean Metal Sucks and instead of be, that should read interview. You can't run from me forever, Jon Bon Jovi!

DOST THOU LOVE PRETENTIOUS ART METAL?

2009-10-26T11:38:00.000-07:00

Kalamazoo, Michigan's Thought Industry released their awesome debut record Songs For Insects at essentially the same time as Dream Theater's Images and Words. So it was a wonderfully nerdy time for me as these records both rule and represent diametrically opposed positions in the prog spectrum, as Dream Theater's hyper-accurate virtuosity signifies a melody calculator while Thought Industry's semi-comprehensible mid-budget drama-prog was most likely the product of adventurously drugged minds unable to even operate a calculator.

Commercially suicidal, Thought Industry adorned their first two (and only true) records with Dali paintings, and capitalized only their moniker's O, like this thOught industry. Also, they credited their work as ahem "sonic architecture" and assigned production duties for S4I to Skinny Puppy producer David Oglivie (with great results except for the muddy, grating mix and the occasional performance that could be generously described as raw). So you can see already, we're talking majorly pretentious, and that's before you get to the lyric sheet, which displayed the sung lyrics peppered with quotes from like Shakespeare and divided into acts by roman numeral. Thought Industry sold low even for Metal Blade but I can''t help thinking that the post-Tool/-Mastodon world may have tilted a bit, revealing some hitherto unnoticed fertile ground for the seeds of Cynic- or D.R.I.-esque (not Anvil-esque) retro-active appreciation. For all their egghead trappings, their music certainly deserves lots.

SRSLY FUCK OFF BON JOVI

2009-10-26T10:54:00.000-07:00

I marvel at how accurately that movie Robocop presaged um like the invasion of public and basic human services by private business interests. But most whoaaa-inducing facets of the Paul Verhoven masterpiece (please come back to Hollywood, Paul) are the little things, like touch lamps and that omnipresent Benny Hill-esque TV personality who from every home and business TV squeals Hhuuuh-I'd buy that for a dollar! Gyaa-aaahah---! I'm pretty sure with this character Verhoven is commenting on those ballbags in Bon Jovi, whose all-pervasive, eighty-pronged assault on the very sanctity of life is basically causing me to behave like a burnt-out hippie. For example, on Ocean and Santa Monica, I gestured dismissively and frowned at a passing bus bearing an image of Jon BJ's clenched 47-year old ass; then I had heated words with my cable provider, who assured me that Showtime would go forward and air the band's forthcoming ahem "documentary", with or without my 200,000-signature petition. (Even Sumner Redstone signed it!) At any rate, not even that would keep from my very home a talentless ripoff artist and his guitar player whose hobbies include drunk-driving his kids to California Pizza Kitchen: somehow the MLB playoffs were bumpered with earnest pseudo-populist Favre rock from those five fucktards and their team of brand managers. Hey Mellencamp and Jimmy Stewart called they want their schtick back.

THE GENTLE ART OF MAKING ENEMIES AT MTV

2009-10-23T10:02:00.000-07:00

So I can never listen to "Be Aggressive" and not continue on to the Angel Dust monument to awesome that follows, entitled erm "A Small Victory." Yeah so here it is without further ado (Rosenberg!!):

THE METALIST AWESOMEST HILARIOUSEST FAITH NO MORE CLIP EVER!

MORE THAN TURDS CAN SAY

2009-10-23T07:08:00.000-07:00

Faith No More is music's proudest achievement and helps me avoid the fact that it's not 1989 anymore but FNM bassist Billy Gould keeps dragging me into the present with the Twitter updates lately. I get it he shouldn't pay a publicist for pre-news like this:

In response to all of our concerned US brethren...YES...we yare now actively planning US dates.

and maybe I'm overreacting due to inexperience with an awesome musician who also engages in this jackoff pseudo-social Twitter bullcrapola. Plus, man am I weird or do the terms twitter and tweet suggest to you a number of graphic sexual amalgams? Yeah, let's not get any more explicit than that cuz my parents can hardly show their faces at the club already. But anyway whoa the point is U.S. DATES U.S. DATES!! U.S. DATESSSSSS!!

Best of all, HooM! is media sponsor on FNM's West Coast leg, so shhh don't tell but we can exclusively announce the first date: May 1, 2010 @ Anso's Crotch, Los Angeles. General Admission!

THAT VINCE NEILSTEIN REALLY BOILS MY POTATO

2009-10-22T09:33:00.000-07:00

My heart felt all gooey today after peeking at Metal Sucks, where co-honcho Vince Neilstein took us through time to last week and an incoherent HooM! virtual high-five to Franshe prog-awesomists Gorod. But enough about them this is just the breakthrough I've been awaiting to ratchet up the intensity of mine and Vince's e-cuddling; I imagine he is a firm but gentle hugger with soft elbows uh ahem what? anyway cough he led the article with a nod to HooM! faves One Man Army and The Undead Quartet and check out the pristine construction on this guy. No ending the sentence with a prep on Metal Sucks, jerkholes!:

Like Stratovarius, 1MA+U4 is one of those bands whose name constantly graces Blabbermouth headlines but to whom I’ve never actually listened.

Now, my tight-ass teachers would tell you it should've read to which I've never actually listened but rules get fuzzy when applied to a thing ('bands') which is comprised of people (ex-The Crown screamer Johan Lindstrom et al). But even that gets stretched when UK guys say janky-sounding shit like 'Black Sabbath are brilliant.' I'm a real crowd-pleaser so I'll cover all bases with little stylistic cheats like the members of (for who/m) or the music of (which/that) and such. But shit this isn't about me, it's about Vince-Nasty, the second Metal journo to be treated this week to a tonguebath on HooM!. But hey let that be a lesson; good grammar means success just ask Mike Muir, Thrash Metal Grammarian! He says fucking therein in this jam.

YOU GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKERS

2009-10-22T08:51:00.000-07:00

It's a given that I'm all about success and amazing cigars, golf clubs, snappy ties and yet it's a headline like today's that ensures HooM!'s sub-cult status, and signifies that HooM! will never have like fancy advertisements or um actual readers. I wonder if HooM! Nation is destined to perish as, thanks to totally non-deranged internet ads, everybody else 'gets ripped' in 48 hours and/or scores a naked chick via online fantasy games like a freaking Aerosmith video. And we were sitting ducks. I for one will not be left behind only because my home will be a grungy supermax as soon as I'm through murdering the fuck out of the assknobs responsible for Direct TV's evil ads. If you watched the Dodgers get stomped again Wednesday night, you know the commercial. Do these satellite wang-danglers consider it wise to drive people to their service (TV) by wrecking an awesome movie (Tommy Boy)? The sacred Fat Guy In Little Coat scene, too (so sacred I can't find a fkg pic, not above)! It must be a nice paycheck for the talent, in this case a not-convincing facsimile of 1995 David Spade, all bloated and pancaked, playing opposite the corpse of my dear sweet Chris Farley. Foul.

Actually huh the first time I said that today was upon inspection of the cover image on Joe Perry's latest hideously-titled non-Aerosmith record. Funny I don't remember authorizing Perry to use the novelty mirror I won at Okauchee Days in 1990 to adorn his record. I said the fucker could borrow it not decorate the next in his illustrious solo series that also includes ahem I've Got The Rock 'N Rolls Again and Once A Rocker, Now Having A Mid-Life Crisis. But the good news is that Have Guitar Will Travel is actually kinda great, totally unlike actual Aerosmith songs featuring Perry's um 'vocals'. Now full disclosure it was noisy at work today as I listened (I think a Jamba Juice is going in across the street! VICTORY!) and HGWT is no United States but yeah it's 1/5th as good as an Aerosmith record. Kinda like the Arrested Development knockoff that ABC is peddling which is 1/9th as good as the real thing. Listen to Half-Retard Swill Drivel here. I swear this stuff practically writes itself.

DEFTONES SHELF 'EROS', ARE BEING WEIRD

2009-10-21T08:24:00.000-07:00

Deftones bassist Chi Cheng remains unable to perform following critical injuries sustained in a car crash in November. Meanwhile, the band has carefully and slowly played a few dates with Sergio formerly of Quicksand. That's all old news but what sent my bowtie spinning is a report that Eros, uncompleted at the time of the accident, will not be the sixth Deftones record. Via Blabbermouth:

The songs recorded for Eros are very special to us as they are the latest with Chi (and we certainly hope not the last); they have history and significant meaning to us. However, as we neared completion on Eros, we realized that this record doesn't best encompass and represent who we are currently as people and as musicians. We collectively made the decision that we needed to take a new approach, and with Chi's condition heavy on our minds while doing so.

[We decided to return] to the studio to do what we felt was right artistically. Our inspiration and unity as a band is stronger than it has ever been before and we needed to channel that energy into our music, and deliver to our fans what you rightly deserve: the best Deftones record that we can make. The decision to hold off on releasing Eros has no connection with Chi's condition or anything associated. This was, and is, purely a creative decision by the band to write, record, and deliver an amazing product. As a result, we feel like this [?? - ed.] is the best record we've ever written. And although Chi is not playing bass with us, his presence is dramatically felt in our hearts and on our minds every day when we step into that studio, and you will feel it in the music.

This is so weird. The emphasis in this statement is placed on three points: 1) Eros'sesses non-release is unconnected to Cheng's injury; 2) the 'unity' and 'inspiration' is now 'stronger' than ever -- despite Cheng's absence; 3) the band plans to record and release their 'best record' -- again without contributions from Cheng. I've been wall-staring for an eternity and the most-positive scenario I can come up with is that they want to write to and for Cheng a brand new album that will stir him to recovery. That or I guess the band feels Eros reeks and simply must not be released. Maybe they're gunshy after the ill-executed self-titled album in 2003 and brilliant Saturday Night Wrist. Weirrrrd.

MY HERO!

2009-10-21T07:14:00.000-07:00

Weeks ago, I was dozing on my balcony only to once again be rudely awaken by high-pitched revving of a neighbor's crotch rocket. It seems likely that dude has been having technical problems cuz no day would pass without his daily constitutional out to the parking lot to exercise the valves or something. I've yet to see him ride it, but my quality of life levels have dipped thanks to this regular screeching, but vengeance is mine cuz on that particular afternoon, I half-watched as a bird quietly deposited a globule of poo onto the exhaust-belching douchebike. The dude, who tucks cabana shirts into tight jean shorts, immediately raised a forearm and groaned; he'd been struck as well! Sweet, sweet justice!

As of today, that bird has been joined in the HooM! Hall of Horns! by Noisecreep scribe Carlos Ramirez, who inadvertently backed me up by roundly denouncing half-ass Anvil fever in a recent Reign In Blonde interview. It does feel shitty to indirectly precipitate all over Anvil's day in the sun, but once that day stretched to a year (and, it would seem, beyond), the act of kinking the hose of this media deluge became an inevitability if not obligation. And yet it wasn't without trepidation that we at HooM! yesterday examined the fallacy of Anvil, cuz Lips and Robb are likable rockers. But as Carlos points out, so are the dudes from (gulp) Tora Tora and (shudder) Royal Hunt. But those bands, nor House of Lords, Babylon A.D., Dangerous Toys, ad infinitum have no comparably cuddly backstory to highlight, and hence the reason for Anvil's um resurgence. And though Ramirez writes for the iffy AOL loud rock site, he's unafraid to crap on VH1's efforts to foist these sub-mediocre rockers on lonely, nostalgic fans looking for a sad-eyed puppy to love. Forget about that shit. Here comes Fastway!

I'M PULLING FOR ANVIL AND ALL BUT COME ON

2009-10-20T10:11:00.000-07:00

The semi-existent Anvil renaissance hasn't really registered with me, though I did go see the movie. Call it a cynical viewpoint, but it's possible to feel that the obscurity of certain bands is completely justified. No one wants to say it but Anvil stinks. And VH1 has entered a land of make-believe with intensifying claims that Anvil were once worshiped and poised to conquer the hard rock world, especially in the recent ramp-up to the DVD release. (AC/DC plans to repay VH1 for partnering on their Black Ice album by taking Anvil on for a handful of shows.) Shit, from where I'm standing, the band opened a short tour made up of hair rock's most embarrassing European groan-rock bands. And this is total haterspeak but dildo-guitar antics and charmless nonthems placed Anvil firmly in league with unsexy tourmates Whitesnake and The Scorpions. But VH1 would have us believe that this Led Zeppelin II was derailed by mismanagement and poor luck. Those of us who've been to 30 - 1200 live shows, however, have seen innumerable openers (and headliners!) soon and rightly destined for the scrap pile. That is not derision just fact.

In Anvil's case, that string of shows in what looks like Japan served as an exception and just because that was enough to convince Lips and Robb of a pending entry into Metal Valhalla, with its attendant riches and excess, doesn't mean it would've been deserved. And somewhere in all this pathos, VH1 senses a unique underdog story and flogs it like the rented mule it clearly is. Slash and cokehead Lars Ulrich appear in the documentary, swearing by Anvil's repressible talents, and yet in no photo or appearance have I spotted an Anvil shirt on their persons. (Lemmy, the coolest guy ever, resists dubious overstatement as usual.) I haven't even heard them mentioned by anyone since junior high, when we'd dine and ditch Perkins then openly mock the sub-Spinal Tap album covers/titles of moldering Anvil tapes at Half Price Books. I mean Anvil was a perfect name for this band: unmoving, boring, useless to most. Don't hate me.

CATS AND DOGS LIVING TOGETHER MASS HYSTERIA

2009-10-20T09:17:00.000-07:00

It seems that the rumors are true that Dokken has set two California dates with Lynch Mob, a superior band led by former Dokken axeman/musclehead George Lynch. Ok this is pretty much what my world is about: These two primping egomaniacs, equally threatened by the band's inexcusable back catalogue, have been warring for years. At least it seems that way though Dokken-Lynch relations haven't dominated my attention lo these two decades. But anyway, like the Poison-Def Lep beef brought to the stage, the smaller but more venomous Don-George conflict promises to be infinitely more uncomfortable. It seems likely that Don will object when George inevitably gets in his shot, or is perceived to have done so. George clearly plans to join the band onstage, which always makes the surviving members feel stepped on. Plus, peripheral cast like Mick Brown may feel inadequate since Lynch Mob is responsible for at least one awesome record while Dokken is for chicks. Mostly deaf chicks. What's next? A Blue Murder/Whitesnake tour?

LET'S GET SILLY

2009-10-16T12:12:00.000-07:00

Hey it's Friday so let's loosen our knickers and pause to appreciate Jawbox, authors of 1996's best melody record. Every year it seems that from left field comes some unforgettable hookfest. In 1999, it was the Brenden O'Brien-produced Dangerman record (who?) and post-Elastica also-rans Kenickie's 1997 debut is solid gold. But arguably the most surprising is Jawbox's self-titled final record, being as it is a hyper-catchy summer day record when their previous outing, whose anniversary has prompted a reissue and a one-off reunion performance on TV, was an acclaimed but unlistenably contrived hipster record from hell. I hated that shit and now must admit that it precipitated the end of a couple of my few friendships. I spared the too-cool chick from two towns over cuz her knockers were dynamite. Plus she probably had to like it or the hipster council might've revoked her membership.

Anyway, Jawbox (the record) is muscular and confident like that last Refused record, whatsitcalled The Come of Shapely Punks? And, again, the melodies are terrific and impactful enough to cancel out some unconscionable over-drumming. Also, like NoMeansNo, the band's dual vocals come off as super confrontational, although J Robbins is more derisive via metaphor than daffy or menacing like those weirdos. And you gotta respect Robbins for doing almost nothing to veil his distaste for me both during a telephone interview and in face-to-face conversation. But when hipster types dislike me it's one of those good problems. Burton C. Bell made me cry though. I'm just joking. I'd never interview Burton C. Bell. Oh shit wait no I have interviewed him, back when Obsolete came out. Um I'll just see myself out.

MUSTAINE RULES*

2009-10-16T07:51:00.000-07:00

The existance of so many ex-girlfriendcore bands with 10-word names kinda proves the belief that our most violent, no-dignity hatred is reserved for those we once loved, but by whom we were ripped off, deceived, and insulted. Let's accept this also as a common sense foundation beneath some of the most vitriolic screeds on HooM! An example? K, we all Dave Mustaine's skillz, but his total bastard behavior is maddening on its face even before you take into account the loss of innocence. It's a shock to discover that some dudes, though extremely Metal, just suck ass at being cool. I know it took years for me to reconcile the fact that coolness and Metalness were not mutually inclusive; I grew up among some of Earth's happiest heshers (Luke you rule).

Anyway, even without shattered illusions, the wise among us must still find it frustrating that the guy who could orchestrate a freakishly perfect jam like "My Last Words" also inspires you to spit on the ground at mention of his name. I mean seriously this fuckin' song: it opens with that ass-tight trio for guitar, bass, and ride cymbal; the main riff is a ingenious little brain-scrambler with swinging two-note five chords; then then then that gives way to the Thrash Metal signature interpretation of punk, flawlessly propelled by bassist David Ellefson. The song is ruined if Other Dave fails, but I can't even spell fail when rocking this shit.

Of course when Mustaine, armed with some flimsy excuse, went back and re-recorded parts of his four masterpieces for their re-master releases (that's a lot of re's), he just couldn't resist (sorry) tinkering with shit and now Ellefson's fleetly pummeling bass line sounds significantly lower in the mix. Asshole! Anyway, in Act III of the Peace Sells closer the skill-level somehow escalates as Mustaine, with like the awesomest banshee scream ever at 3:21, launches the band into a shuffle that's so fast that I imagine it prompted Chris Poland (call me) and drummer Gar Samulsson to ask for a fucking raise. And they earn it. Awesome! Awwwwwesome. So why won't Dave let me love him?

THE WRONG PEOPLE ARE BEING PUNCHED

2009-10-15T10:37:00.000-07:00

My life is a serene combination of peaches and herb so I know firsthand that yes, dreams come true. Like my dream that a motivated insane person will someday slap shut the shit-spewing mouths of Sharon Osbourne's husband or the guy who was too disagreeable to be in Metallica. Well, first Chris Brown was hip to the cause but totally missed his target, and instead rained blows down on foxy Rihanna. Ok innocent mistake. Though above all I value accuracy so I'm getting worried after a second offensive failed today, thanks to the dumbshit who apparently couldn't wait until Mustaine's book came out to strike him in view of a crowd. According to The Sun, which I edited the shit out of cuz UK tabloids write like sixth-graders:

The man, said to be in his late 20s or early 30s, waited in line for a signed copy of singer Leona Lewis'sess new book, Dreams, and then attacked her in front of 200 stunned onlookers. Lewis, shocked, clutched her face as bouncers apprehended and held the assailant until police arrived. A witness states: “The man waited patiently, but as soon as she signed his book, he smashed her in the face.

Huh at least this guy gets credit for rendering the book's title hilariously ironic. And Leona's cool, but maybe he was warming up, testing security, ya know casing the joint when he slugged a harmless pop singer. A soft target which prepares him for Mustaine's catlike speed and reflexes. I guess time will tell.

GREAT NOW I LIKE EUROPE

2009-10-15T09:11:00.000-07:00

This week started off with a lapse in judgement that lead to a lunch of marked-down tamales from Ralphs. Obviously, the rest of my Monday was spent reading Decibel back issues in my surf-themed bathroom but Tuesday was no improvement. On that day came the sad realization that ugh I like a song by fucking Europe. Which is an admission equal in my family to oh say hidden hermaphroditism or plans to join Machine Head. How did it comes to this?

Well, it's stupid AOL Radio's fault. Their hair rock station rotates only one or two songs by each band, and that's great for bands like L.A. Guns who only have a pair of good songs (no not "The Ballad of Jayne"). Oddly, the exceptions are Ratt, Dokken, or Cinderella, three bands who all license like 40 songs. So this creates a situation where the listener, presumably captive at work, is fucking relieved to hear anything else. For example, "Valley of the Kings" by Blue Murder (yes!) or Europe's "Rock The Night" for which there is no excuse but hey here we are. It's one of those rock songs about rock songs and the appreciation thereof -- and it's by Europe, poof rock's most hatable white-teeth enthusiasts. That means it's as bad musically as it is lyrically, but what started as trying to place its faint resemblance to some other song (it still hasn't come to me), then morphed into toe-tapping and a couple "Whoa-oh"s. As of this week it's official I like it. And therefore I'm pretty much kicked out of my family.

WELL SID FALCK DAY IS RUINED

2009-10-14T09:44:00.000-07:00

In my haste this morning I neglected to mention that some other dickknob on Metal Sucks wrote that I shouldn't be paid for the aforementioned Cave In live review. No wait actually, he intimated to my fucking bosses that they've been ripped off. By me. I should thank him for neglecting to mention my love of masturbating on the bus. And my crooked charity, The Special Touches Fund, which rescues victims of human trafficking and drowns them. And great now somebody owes an apology to Overkill drummer Sid Falck, now that FalckFest has gotten off to this crappy start.

At any rate, Sid left after Horrorscope cuz um he doesn't like Metal but that doesn't bother me. He was terrific all over that album and Years of Decay is insane. I smell four Nobel prizes just for the guitar solo passage in "Elimination"; it's nothing fancy, but stands as one of Metal's most memorable due in no small part to Falck Nasty's beatz. Also, the Falckster did that double kick/crash cymbal choke thing (the opening to "Infectious" in 1991) a few years before Paul Bostaph did (at 0:31 of Divine Intervention's "Killing Fields" in '94). Now sure, I don't really know what's going on in "Birth of Tension" but whatever just crank up the so so hesh "Blood Money" (above) and grip thy nuts. Pure. Falck.

YOU'RE FULL OF SHIT FUCK YOUUUU

2009-10-14T07:19:00.000-07:00

Forgive my curtness this morning but some assfuck who knows jack shit about dick called me a ahem Dumb Fuck in the comments of my Cave In review on Metal Sucks yesterday. People, have we learned nothing from Brian Fair-All That Remains Guy Incident? Which is to say it's true, I am a dumb fuck; but the rule is if you wouldn't say it in person, don't write it on the stupid internet. I don't give a shit if you are a veteran MS commenter (tell your grandkids, dude!), at least spare my ancestors, all of whom share my dumb fuck name/initials. Actually waaaait a second. Could it be? Dad! How could you!

GOATWHORE FANS, I IMPLORE YOU

2009-10-13T09:12:00.000-07:00

Sundays are new Metal day at HooM! HQ and to spice things up, I engage the shuffle-by-album feature and headbang by surprise. On other days I'm extra short on attention span, most often mid-June to January when there's no Sunday NBA to stare at, and that might demand shuffle-by-song, so six or so hours are spent listening to two dozen new and new-to-me Metal records. Such a day was Sunday and it was really educational.

I learned that the Heaven + Hell record happened because Dio is a professional songwriter while Ozzy is a professional interviewee. Also, this kinda sounds stupid but in a very real sense, The Devil You Know seems like a Dio album for which he hired Black Sabbath to back him. Not to imply that Dio wrote everything (Geezer, Tony no doubt); but the RJD presence rules the album. He's been in the business for 50 fucking years, but no Rock Hall of Fame. Huh.

I learned that in Gorod, technical metal is being wrested away from clever East Coast hipsters and back into the domain of heshers thank you Europe. Like any good pursuit, it is improving itself and less and less frequently being comprised of five guys wanking in unison. Hey back to that Hall of Fame thing; there should actually be a Metal Hall of Fame facility. Real shit too, not energy drink rock or muscle guy stuff. I'm thinking of saaaay a life-sized Sunset Strip with live prop sluts. A Bay Area Thrash exhibit featuring a punchable Dave Mustaine. Lars Ulrich's coke ladle. And so on.

I remembered that One Man Army + The Undead Quartet rules and one of their best weapons is ex-The Crown singer Johan Lindstrom, who is easily one of Metal's most dynamic screamy voices. Especially on their second record Error In Evolution, and their third in as many years Grim Tales. Oh yeah remember my shit was on shuffle? Around the end of the Angels game, it started to feel like I was drawing a lot of Grim Tales songs, but then it turned out half of those songs came from Goatwhore's Carving Out The Eyes of God. Which is a pretty big record and yet 1MA+U4 couldn't sell out my bathroom. Damn.

TAKE MY HEART AND SET IT FREE

2009-10-12T13:07:00.000-07:00

It was at Tower Records in Ikebukuro a few years ago when I was confronted with yet another auxiliary Iron Maiden record on sale. (I spelled auxiliary right on the first try worrrd!) Skeptical, I stepped to the listening station, slipped on headphones, and shared a look of disbelief with my neighbor (who graciously allowed me to interrupt his preview of um Impellitteri) during the intro to song two, where singer Bruce Dickinson absolutely goes off. Which prompts unchained cacophony from the 500 trillion-strong Rio crowd and pure Metal fury from the band. Incidentally, that very listening station introduced me to (disc #6 all the way on the end) Soilwork's Devy-produced Natural Born Chaos and to my shame, I wasn't paying attention at all. That's Bruce Power. Vote over there fuckerz.

ALL THAT REMAINS REMAINS DIGNITY-FREE

2009-10-12T10:29:00.000-07:00

I love the guys in Shadows Fall but am hard on them um yknow because of all the sucky records. All That Remains however are lead by Metal's premiere douchestain who's now in a defensive crouch following an incident over the weekend in which his gf reportedly was propositioned by Shads frontman Brian Fair. Ugh via Twitter:

Phil Labonte: Sweet, Brian from Shadows Fall was trying to fuck my girlfriend tonight. Thanks to Ivan from 5FDP for sticking up for me. So much for home <3.

Brian Fair: @philthatremains Learn to think before you speak. I cant babysit everyone.

Jorie Salyers: Kinda bummed. Phil's pissed about last night. I guess I should be too, as I was the target, but I'm just trying not to lose everything atm. [Get a grip on yourself - Ed.]

Jorie Salyers: @brianshadfall No drama! So we'll let everything lie. I did tell Phil all you said, so you're aware. No need for ME to lie to him.

Hey remember the days when men weren't pussies so when some lead singer tried to compromise your chick's pussy perimeter, you either didn't care or quietly went about the business of punching faces? That was great. Now we have Earth's least likable fancy jeans enthusiast whining via 20-word sentences to bored internet jockeys about the universally beloved Fair. And this hilarious one-sided bitchfight doesn't even rise to the level of absurdity once you consider that the witnesses to Fair's transgression are the formerly anonymous girl herself and a guy from Five Finger Death Punch. One is a lead singer's gf and gosh they never start shit to glorify their own attention-humping selves (that's why they date tamponish lead singers ahem); the latter already is the source of 2009's other asinine half-ass non-story for retards. Hey I just farted and it smells sweet like Yogurtland! Stop the motherfucking presses.

EVER SEE 'KING OF COMEDY'?

2009-10-09T10:00:00.000-07:00

One of my most popular party stories ends with Devin Townsend materializing (ha get it, above) in front of me on a sidewalk in stupid Chicago one evening. We lamewads had failed on the show, missing Strapping Young Lad's piddly 25-minute set except for cymbals and "Thankyougoodnightfuckerz!" followed by Hoglan's ass receding into the darkness. Then came I think Dark Wanquility and definitely In Flames, which pushed us right back out the front doors like in a sketch from The Muppet Show. Pissed, we piled back into the car; at the first stoplight, I looked to my right to see Townsend with hands in pockets, alone at the corner. I heard three effeminate gasps in the car when I shrieked "Devin! What the fuck we missed the shit it's like 5:45 pm traffic was fucked why so early what the fuuuck??!?" He shrugged but also smiled cuz my expression must've been retarded and I look cartoonish with my eyebrows raised and palms upturned. Bubbles hissed "Don't yell at him about it, dude" which got an honest laugh. Good thing Townsend didn't know that the semi-retard before him was entrusted with the task of writing about his records (his website once pulled a quote of mine super bonerz!). The light turned green and I just waved and waved and waved, kinda in the style of Coop in Wet Hot American Summer. Then it hit me: Fuck! We should've kidnapped him! Shit! Four of us! One of him! Already in the getaway vehicle! Shit!

There you have it folks. Take your eye off the ball for a split second and you too will miss the chance to enslave Devin Townsend, to harness his powers for evil, to compel him to stage private concerts on your balcony and and AND to produce your all guitar solo album (no backing tracks, literally solo guitar just soloing). Or to starve him brutally until he agrees to recast Hysteria in his own mould, title it Addicted, and release it on November 17. OK he ended up doing that anyway. Lucky for him!

MUNICIPAL WAY STUPENDOUS

2009-10-09T08:31:00.000-07:00

I'm kinda stuck in the past but it's impossible to overlook the wave, if you will, of brilliant Metal in just America alone. Ironically, this new Metal sounds old and reminds me of the days when I was too young to notice that the world is a well-used toilet. Like Warbringer, whose drums belong to the 21st century but elsewhere is firmly rooted in pre-Titan thrash. Their Waking Into Nightmares rules my mornings -- my good morning to Los Angeles is "Born! With! The soul! Of a LIAAARR!" -- and Mantic Ritual's Executioner my nights. But the scant moments when I'm not rocking neo-Thrash are now threatened by Municipal Waste's superb, delicious Massive Aggressive, in which I'm balls deep. In general, my worship of the quartet of D.R.I. devotees has gone from casual to freaky, though for some reason I take personal offense to Burnt By The Sun, whose drummer is also in MWaste. And this fact was unknown to me when I'd already begun to bemoan his performance on Massgressive. (top heavy beats, drums don't sound big enough, more fills please, would it kill ya to choke a crash cymbal dude?). Somebody get Sid Falck in this band stat.

BABYLON A.D. WAS NOT FUCKING AROUND

2009-10-08T10:07:00.000-07:00

I piqued my own curiosity the other day by offhandedly mentioning hair rockers Babylon A.D. so duh I finally went back and listened to their first album after whoa nearly 20 years. That shit rips! The big side A ballad is ginormous, and my memory owes me an explanation for losing track of "Caught Up In The Crossfire" (above, kinda sounds like "I Love Rock 'N Roll") and "Shot O' Love" which now reminds me of that butt-faced reality chick on VH1. Anyway, Babylon A.D. got a nice promo push after being the first loud rock act on Arista, then run by Clive Davis right? That must've been a fun meeting. I wonder who suggested the Sam Kinison swear-assault on "The Kid Goes Wild." It probably wasn't the guy who signed Whitney Houston.

I CAN STOP ANY TIME I WANT

2009-10-08T08:53:00.000-07:00

So here's some breaking news I'm an idiot and forgot to link to Tuesday's coverage of Steel Panther on Metal Sucks. I love the MS guys cuz they know all the good shit and so what if they like IWABO? Really! I have an aunt who's been a cokehead for like four decades and her Christmas presents are always great, so we're cool. Likewise, Axl + Vince shit out holiday gifts onto my chest all year round by asking me to cheapen their internet-best Metal site with incoherent, monomaniacal Bellow Journalism (I like copyright that term or something). Oh and they love Living Colour too which is the unmistakable mark of people of taste and good genes. Everybody has a certain player who drove them to pick up a guitar and Vernon Reid is mine I heart you VR.

We're off topic but yeah once again it's Steel Panther time, today in honor of the kinda-new and extremely awesome video for "Fat Girl (Thar She Blows)" (above) a tune that's "Here I Go Again" meets "Down Boys" with backing vox ripped from Hysteria. So yes it's a perfect song. And the vid is a Metal Injection exclusive yummy! Finally, this time I swear there's no Steel Panther story left. I'm don't need to write about them. Shit this here writing is mostly about Metal Sucks. So that's it. Well, until Monday night. Godda wuv me!

ALRIGHT! SHYEAH! C-C-COME ON!

2009-10-07T10:29:00.000-07:00

Well, Tuesday was the big day and after devoting about 700 column inches to Steel Panther since the morning "Death To All But Metal" spurted into my life, I am like out of words. Still I whipped up something to commemorate Feel The Steel's stateside release for Metal Sucks, but just cuz I'm a shitty writer doesn't mean I'm insincere about SPanther's bravery. Not real bravery, but y'know Charlize Theron in Monster bravery. The kind that emboldens you to petulantly demand that pussies always be shaved. That's what this world needs. Listen to Feel The Steel here, dickbag.

DEVIN TOWNSEND HAS SUCCUMBED TO MY MIND CONTROL

2009-10-07T08:17:00.000-07:00

Like many, I gargle the nuts of Devin Townsend and like slightly fewer, I didn't comprehend his last record. Though there's little of the accompanying despair and disappointment, as Devy is so reliable and evolutionary that one is compelled to take the blame if and when his tunes fail to stick. Further, Ki is the first that hasn't and it came at a time when my mid-life crisis has oriented me backward, and shit I'm not really prepared to just Dorothy into the surreal dimensions of Dev's brain. Which, not for nothing, seems to be enduring a crisis of its own since well forever. Wow that's arrogant of me to write but anyway a November 17 release for Addicted means not even a half-year will've elapsed between parts one and two of Townsend's New Devin Quadrilogy; so it would seem that the two albums may be similar but that's entirely impossible according to Townsend:

Musically, Addicted is along the lines of the big, wall of sound hard rock/heavy metal; [it] is a very direct and 'to the point' album with an emphasis on groove and the chorus. In the past, lots of my records end up taking a kind of Pink Floyd-ish route (between song meandering, etc.) Addicted is really simple: 11 rocking songs with no bullshit.

I wanted to make a record that was heavy, without being dark or depressing. When I got into metal it was for the energy behind it, but somewhere along the way that energy started getting really negative. In music right now, there's a ton of heavy bands that are really depressing to listen to loudly. [Yes! - ed.] I wanted to make a record without any real deep metaphor on the surface. Something that sounds good, has a good beat and a positive feeling. [Yes!!] It is still heavy as-all-get-out, but I think there's a differentiation to be made between being 'peaceful,’ and being peaceful but wanting to celebrate loud, crushing music. [Oh god yes!]

I absolutely love this record and it affects me in a way that I wasn't prepared for. It's a fully rocking album of optimism. If you just want to 'play it loud' without any crazy metaphor, this album might be for you. The reason that Addicted exists is maybe a little deeper than what the record sounds like up front. But up front, it kind of states: 'Life is tough, the world can be an ugly place...so let’s forget about the dramas and Rock - here's some heavy guitars, big choruses and killer beats.

OK having read the above and listened to this new song from Addicted -- and crapped myself with joy -- I can say that this record may end my life. It just might be the record I've been demanding from Townsend: a big-production pop-metal album. This is like the greatest pastry chef in the universe making a donut. This is Kobe on my team for two-on-two. This means my efforts to manipulate his thoughts have succeeded and boy howdy! He just booked his first live date too! Though he must've misheard my directive cuz it's in fucking Europe, which happened with Faith No More too. Shit. Incidentally, this applies to Mike Patton, too, cuz the heavy pop dalliances of each are goddamn fucking awesome. One could make a (shamefully brief) mixtape of these tracks (opening with "Fluke," above), but a post 9/11 Hysteria, as Townsend indirectly promises this November, would pretty much explode my reality. Somebody tell Patton to take off that tinfoil hat.

IT'S A GAY ROMANTIC FLING

2009-10-06T10:36:00.000-07:00

I'm successful with the ladies thanks to a system of Copperfield-esque diversions and infusions of alcohol so I'm free to commit questionable acts like eschewing the only implicitly homoerotic football game (Favre you shank) for TCM's feature presentation of Gigi, a fruity musical about the transformation of a Parisian tomboy into a young woman much to the delight of her bored would-be suitor. For the record, it's that rotten Robert Osbourne who sucks you in with intros, providing valuable context and endorsements. Lucky for me, it turns out that Gigi is less gay than NFL after all, what with its opening number, sung by a leering old man, called 'Thank Heaven For Little Girls'. That's right, I just defended my heterosexuality by pointing out that Gigi is uncomfortably pedophilic. I'm not sure that's a word but I'm not going to fucking google it unless I want Pete Townsend showing up here followed by the FBI.

Anyway, hours after my brush with perilous erotic messages, my antidote was to rub a bunch of Slayer on my balls. That shit defeats the pernicious influence of foofoo dandies mincing (Gigi was awesome btw) or tight-panted men penetrating each other's defenses while also protecting their own brown thing. After Decade of Aggression, I feel much straighter again but now I kinda want to skull-bang a dead nazi or something. Ick.

DON'T YOU FUCKIN' DARE TO UNCHAIN THE NIGHT, YOU SON OF A BITCH

2009-10-06T07:00:00.000-07:00

I was thinking about Dokken today (yesssss I was watching Nightmare on Elm Street 3) and hey did anyone else think at first that they were European? If you had any awareness of the scene and George Lynch's rep back then, you'd know otherwise. But if say you grew up in the indifferent suburbs of the nation's box spring, L.A. might as well have been fucking Laos. So anyway, the first hint was their bizarre name, which seemed to belong to a German coffeemaker or golf clubs used by Japanese businessmen. It turned out to be the pouty one's last name. Then you have the brooding, minor key rockers and dignity-free histrionics that would embarrass Coverdale, each song treating infidelity and heartbreak like pending nuclear holocaust. Oh oh and the bad metaphors, with which Don warns against unchaining the night and the perils of a "Heartless Heart" whatever that shit means. Anyway it says here that in the band Dokken's pre-natal stages, Don guested on a Scorpions album (shudder) and through an acquaintance with Accept landed a record deal in Europe. So there you have it. This was supposed to be about Slayer. Sorry bout that but Dokken is hilarious.

METAL INSIDER IS COGENT, NOT PETTY ENOUGH

2009-10-05T11:46:00.000-07:00

It's obvious that we all love Metal Insider for their concise analysis of current events and industry trends. MI displays an unsightly maturity unseen in most Metal media, for example in a recent piece about the CD format at age 27. The article demands that they reference a bunch of suckass records -- each a benchmark in CD history -- which MI kindly resists excercising their journalistic right to mercilessly belittle. Billy Joel? Seriously? That guy can shampoo my crotch.

But MI closes with feel-good nostalgia thanks to which I remember my first CD; it was Rust in Peace in the longbox and I'm very proud of that. The first ever loaded and played is ...And Justice For All, and if this seems too convenient that my virginal experiences with CD involve these high-watermarks of Thrash and not Poison or worse, first of all, I think your attitude sucks. And if my memory were a fucking liar, it sooo would've rewritten history regarding the first CD I ever heard: The Bangles' Different Light. Shit. It was over pancakes at Cory's house with his hip divorcé dad and his generously beknockered sisters. It was my first up-close look at an indecipherable intellectual and untamed/incidental boobage, respectively. But that day I was more impressed with this comparitively sleek, uber-precise CD player thing; to illustrate how cool Cory's dad was, I'll explain that he had books everywhere, wrote books himself, made a living as a college professor, edited a terrifying literary journal, and owned the first CD player I ever laid eyes on. Oh and though he spent what $2800 on the fucker, his daughters (the eldest and beautiful) ruled over the owner and his sons (Beastie Boys fans). And hence, the Bangles breakfast. That story's quite sweaty but honestly, just hum a few bars of the the title track and I smell syrup and feel a tingle in my junk.

THE SPRUCE BRUCE

2009-10-02T10:02:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure how it's possible but my 100% not-literal love affair with Iron Maiden singer Bruce Dickinson has actually intensified over the last decade. By the time of Fear Of The Dark, I had logged about 60K listening hours on Somewhere In Time and Seventh Son of a Seventh Son. To that you can add roughly 14 weeks each on Beast, Piece; let's agree that a season could approach and pass in the time I've spent rocking either No Prayer and Powerslave. My last semester at college is a blur of Chemical Wedding and Accident of Birth (not Accident At Birth, Brian); and then there's Skunkworks (3.5), which broke the record set by A Lil' Ain't Enough (3) for consecutive months in my shower stereo. A dude could lose an entire morning to just "Innerspace" and "Strange Death In Paradise" continuously.

Anyway even since all that, Bruce has rejoined Maiden for a classic and a two solids, has become a freaking jetliner captain who flies his goddamn fucking tour to and from "the asshole(s) of the world," and has still not once been a douche about anything, especially his own deafening awesomeness. Now sure, I don't really get his sensibilities in film and the written word. But I just figure that's cuz he's British and everything. Sorry the point is Bruce is tops and his breathtaking performances just with Maiden are pretty much innumerable. Plus, each Bruce highlight presses a different button, from dread ("Hallowed Be Thy Name") to pre-hysteria ("Public Enema #1") to bona fide wistfulness ("Wasted Years" thank you Adrian Smith) and so on. He's pretty much the best at the pleading, theatrically persecuted outcast ("The Prisoner," "Powerslave," "The Prophecy" vote for that shit over there). He sings about like relationships and shit on Skunkworks and it doesn't sound weird at all. I also love that he has worn a different outfit each tour. And nobody said SHIT when he covered -- and singled -- Bowie's "All The Young Dudes" which isn't actually as faggy as the title implies but still. Actually I'm a chick dude but if he asked me, I would let him take pictures of my butt. Sorry mom but there it is.

I'M LOBBYING FOR THE MANTIC RITUAL GIG

2009-10-02T09:02:00.000-07:00

Thanks to fellow award-winning Metal Sucks reviewer/stud Corey Mitchell I'm all gorgor for Mantic Ritual. So my brow is furrowed in contemplation of earth's cold indifference to last month's announcement that singer/guitarist Dan Wetmore departed the band. That's a lot of prepositions in the previous sentence so sorry but anyway the Mantic story fetched but a dozen comments on Blabbermouth and I didn't even see any coverage beyond that (Metal Sucks did, however, give Ziltoid's boyfriend a column and it's great.) And for that, I'm wagging my finger at everybody in Metal even Mitchell, though he too is probably busy eye-raping the pages of this year's Best American Crime Reporting (a September occurrence that staves off suicide between summer and NBA) to publicly mourn this band-imperiling development. OK sure they've already replaced Wetmore, so there's no imminent danger. But at the same time, who can tell how the other three Mantics may rebound after being dumped for ahem photography studies. I took photo once and my big project involved two chicks kissing (Angela your knockers ruled I should've told you). Which means both that I rule and that I've already achieved the pinnacle of photog ambition so naturally I should be selected to front Mantic mark II. And that solves that BAM pick me up Sunday, k guys?

THE FACIST SECURITY DROID GOES WILD

2009-10-01T09:40:00.000-07:00

I love that drinking game where dudes take turns calling out hair rock bands and the first to blank out is punished by a council comprising the other players. The sentence is usually some night-ending amount of intoxicants delivered by eye injection or something. It gets hard to recall what may amount to dozens of crotch-boy groups by name, especially once you get into sub-minor successes (Baton Rouge, Tuff, Jet Boy, Roxx Gang, Spread Eagle) and the semi-hair rockers that always spur debate (The Cult, Aerosmith). Side bets can be had by challenging the namer to also identify by complete title a song attributable to the named band. (I took major action once to sing in its entirety "Walkin' Shoes" by Tora Tora FTW.)

This game was started before the onlinenets, so shit this is knowledge culled from Headbangers Ball, Rip and Metal Edge. Oh and thousands of hours appearing nonchalant while positioning oneself to shoplift at CD stores. Anyway, it's good strategy to keep a few in your breast pocket for later, so to speak, groups which you're reasonably certain will not be mentioned by your competitors. My trump card is usually a unverifiable regional act (Legz Up, London zing!) but when Bubbles isn't playing I squirrel away for the tough upper 60s some stateside flops like Cats In Boots or Babylon A.D. But that last ace up my sleeve might be wrecked if they ever reissue the red hot Robocop 2 soundtrack (above) or if Lazarus A.D. continues to flourish. Those are what you call good problems.

RICHARD PATRICK IS AWESOME, CREEPING ME OUT

2009-10-01T08:00:00.000-07:00

There was a point during Monday's Jeopardy when I was like dumbfounded at the amount of creepy-ass shit going on in the show. Right off the bat, the very first contestant to be announced was leering, mouth agape, openly attempting to mentally undress the home viewing audience; just as announcer Johnny Gilbert (hotness) hits the last syllable of the boytoucher's name, he suggestively raises his eyebrows like the grossest perv to ever grow a rapist beard. Then you hear the Miley Cyrus superfan's voice and goddamn if it doesn't sound like a seventh grader's. I'm afraid to go near Sony Pictures even though this shit was taped weeks ago.

But Alex Trebek is a glory hog and wouldn't allow attention to focus on the guy who eats people's faces. So when time came to give the correct response for a botched Daily Double, he actually acted out the definition of bashful to the lone female player. My family is Italian but I'm not exaggerating when I state unequivocally that I nearly ralphed at his attempt at boyish innocence. It was like Mickey Rooney as Fallout Boy. It was like Fall Out Boy. Then, while I'm still choking back -- and back down -- my dinner, Trebek says the word Alcock followed by the completely hilariouser Alcock & Brown. Oh oh oh and then, Trebeck, just smoldering with white hot animal intensity, read a clue that referenced Warrant's "Cherry Pie" and now I hate sex.

In other creepy news, some creeps made a movie about the creepiest male relation ever, the stepdad (silver medal: uncle). Somebody in this organization has half a brain cuz, to sing a potentially mega-creepy song, they enlisted Richard Patrick and his Filter guys. And the result (here, stay for "American Cliche") is the most potent popular expression of windowless-van creepiness found outside a Dennis Lehane book or a movie by Todd Solondz (above). Great references, right? I'm like Dennis Miller in here, cha-cha. 'The fuck off me.

HYPOCRISY ALERT, BOTH KINDS

2009-09-30T08:00:00.000-07:00

Thanks to file sharing panic, lately the recording industry is like a giant pair of clenched asscheeks. Only when the inevitable squeeze-fatigure sets in do the mastercheeks relax and part to spit out some compact beige turdlets of product; simultaneously, all the creativity-challenged middle management types scramble to ram their dicks in before the brown hole of glory is again slammed shut. O! the countless wangs that have been violently detached by the spiteful, merciless undercarriage of the music business. It's a wonder that good music ever makes it to its public for the scared busybodies charged with delivering it. But anyway, I aspire to be one of those scrambling dicks/scarybodies (?) but am currently too peonic to even sniff the all-powerful Big Buns and their chocolate secret. If I had any juice at all believe me Hypocrisy would be a much bigger band. Tagtgren would be co-hosting with Leno and the cover of Newsweek would read 'Hip-ocrisy?' and to USA Today I'd suggest they run a snappy infographic titled 'Hip Hip Hypocrisy!' Patience, Monty.

SEPTEMBER SETLIST: TESTAMENT ENCORE

2009-09-30T07:00:00.000-07:00

Each day this month, your gay-ass hasn't joined HooM! as we died, went to Testament heaven, and took a monster dump on your mom's chest. It's the last song this time for real; an involuntary cry is muted too late by your balled fist; and now you've got somebody's crinkly hairs in your mouth; your retching is cosmetically similar to extreme death metal enthusiasm but then Testament slams your ear-boner in a door with the conclusive, brutally unheralded closer to an underloved album whatawoild:

ANOTHER REALM

2009-09-29T08:00:00.000-07:00

Speaking of Wisconsin metal, how about that Lazarus A.D. in this new and very Metal video for The Onslaught's "Revolution", featuring footage from umm that looks like Summerfest. As it happens, a super Realm bootleg I've heard is from Summerfest though 15 years earlier; it's on an old TDK tape but you can still hear ripping then-new songs "Final Argument of Kings" and "The Other Side of Me" plus their King Crimson number "One More Red Nightmare" and the conveniently forgotten "Partnerz 'N Crime." Ok in all fairness, that spelling is unconfirmed but there's no question that prog-thrashers Realm did write and perform a jokey rap song a la "I'm The Man," with pro-safe sex messages and crap. Otherwise, they're awesome and Lazer Ass A.D. is too so one wonders if these studs aren't transplants to the area. See, I know a guy who's paternal grandmother is one-quarter Wisconsinish and that dude can't even spell the word guitar let alone play one.

SEPTEMBER SETLIST: TESTAMENT ENCORE

2009-09-29T07:00:00.000-07:00

Setlist is a HooM! serial in which an unreasonable jerk designs an awesome band's most fantastical, logistically impossible night of live mega-Metal. The dream concert set: both the best and the best-known, played before an throbbing ocean of insatiable Metal freaks.

Each day this month, join HooM! as we die and go to Testament heaven. This near to the end, every song comes into sharp focus despite the fatigue of yknow standing up for 90 minutes; you begin to search for deeper significance in the final songs; what is Testament's view of the state of humanity, what are their parting words to us, are they of hope, despair, deliverance?

REALM-UNION OR BUST

2009-09-28T08:30:00.000-07:00

Besides the usual hay fever, another allergy I suffer from is an extreme sensitivity to crusading writers and their pet bands. Maybe it's the tone of exasperation, or the smugness that accompanies a real find. Worse is that nowadays, under-exposed bands are everywhere and likewise rabid band patrons number beyond actual journos to include empowered comment jockeys; Metal Sucks even turned over one Friday's operations to such a breathless, put-upon zealot.

Now on the other hand, this endorsement of an underloved band like Realm is justified, cuz few people are unlucky enough to live in Milwaukee (home to the band and most of its fans), their awesomeness levels roughly equal those of Atheist and Queensryche (seriously), and goddammit I'm trying to get a reunion tour going here (not getting any younger y'all). Turn it up and join the movement. No not that kind.

SEPTEMBER SETLIST: TESTAMENT ENCORE

2009-09-28T07:00:00.000-07:00

Each day this month, join HooM! as we die and go to Testament heaven. Here we are, encore time and I don't mind orking like a seal for more live Testament; the stage is black but here returns drummer Paul Bostaph who sure is a wee widdle fella but he's 5'3" of explosion on the song whose playback intro is percolating now, a thunderously grave and gasp poignant classic which proves we were fools to tolerate post-Justice Metallica and their ilk:

URINE LOVE

2009-09-25T09:00:00.000-07:00

Something else I learned by religiously following Dee Snider's House of Hair is that an alarming number of hair rock classics may very well be about peeing on people. Steady your bowtie, sir, I shall continue. Ok for starters, Lita Ford's "Gotta Let Go" is pretty suggestive and there's really no doubt about "River of Love" by Lynch Mob. Then there's Ratt and the bizarrely anthemic HOH favorite "You're In Love" (above, worst video ever). I'm kinda ignorant about early Ratt cuz I got onboard with Top-10 All-Time Classic Single "Way Cool, Jr." (and its superb but overproduced Reach For The Sky album) and continue a lusty love affair also with Detonator, and shit I even love five or six tunes from the comeback record. But it's tough for me to go back in a band's catalogue. Doing so always results in disappointment, as the band sounds crude and underdeveloped; few bands have a stronger identity before a few records under their belt, and the rare acts with a formed personality from the jump (G n' R, Van Halen) invariably descend into insanity and wackness.

Anyway, the lyrics of the new wavey "You're In Love" are hilarious through a tinkle-tinted lens, such as singer Stephen Pearcy's description of a surprise piss attack from a stumble bum ("You take the midnight subway train/You're calling all the shots/You're struck by lightning/Urine Love!") or his boasts of accuracy ("I'm the one who's out and aims to please"). That's about whizzing on dudes seriously.

SNOT LOVE

2009-09-25T08:00:00.000-07:00

HooM! can be pretty negative but it belies my intrinsically hopeful interior. For egg-sandwich, no one I know has ever found a reason to like Dokken, and I mean not a soul not even the mega-heshers a few grades older than us who were freakin Laaz Rocket fans for the love of Geoff. But with awful bands there's a point where I become able to suppress my symbolic vomit, and that's when I set about trying to find something -- song, album cover, guitar solo, haircut, hot girl who likes them -- anything good about them. Especially with major label bands, cuz goddammit like a half-dozen people are paid to make the songs good even if sung by a breathy, whiny, sub-Coverdale drama queen (with great comic timing). Seriously. According to the laws of probability, even bands who set the global standard for gay-ass breakup songs will stumble into a snappy single. Especially in your best-loved genre.

My Dokken quest came to an end during Dee Snider's House Of Hair back iiiiin um 2005 when I first laid ears on "It's Not LOVE!" which rips despite the usual Don Dokken cornball despair. That song opened the door for another awesome/faggy song "Burning Like A Flame" but then you have stuff like "Paris Is Flaming" and "In My Jeans." Ear-barfingest harmonies ever.

SEPTEMBER SETLIST: TESTAMENT

2009-09-25T07:00:00.000-07:00

Each day this month, join HooM! as we die and go to Testament heaven. The worst moment of any show is announcement that 'this is our last song'; sure there's the encore but the stench of inevitable parting with Testament hangs heavy in the air; well that and pot smoke, sweat fog, and the electricity of an instant-classic solo by then 18-year old Alex Skonick, who Mustaine actually considers himself superior to pfft please:

THAT'S MORE LIKE IT

2009-09-24T09:00:00.000-07:00

Last week, Aerosmith guitarist/shiny chest enthusiast Joe Perry kinda threw a scary bitch fit but like a battered wife, he is quickly and decisively retracting his not veiled threats to Steven Tyler. Tyler might deserve a rank-out cuz he's been acting funny lately. Not funny funny but funny weird. Fishy, even. But anyway, Perry may have overshot when he actually made like demands and stuff. I mean so what if Tyler (above, just pure money) is a diva in the midst of a um late-life crisis with new management, the standard issue piece of tail who's younger than his daughters, and at-best indifferent motor skills. I'm trying to wring another couple albums out of him so let's all kinda use collective consciousness power to make it happen. Look it's working on Perry, who promises the Boston Harold:

When we started using outside songwriters it definitely helped with our success in the '80s and '90s. I don't know, maybe it got too [easy] to rely on [them]. I don't think anybody really cares who writes the songs as long as they sound like Aerosmith songs and, at least to me, there have been times when we drifted away from [the Aerosmith sound]. I don't mind using outside songwriters but I'd still like to see an Aerosmith where the core of the music comes from the guys in the band. Maybe we have three more records in us. Maybe we have [about] seven years of touring.

I like this optimistic, bullshit-ish Perry much better than professor poutypants from last week. And yes we're all stomping on his dong for that little episode but he doesn't sound cranky! They should just barely tolerate and write some overtly derogatory and insulting songs. Like Faith No More or Sloan or Stone Temple Pilots.

NO COALESCE BONER

2009-09-24T08:00:00.000-07:00

Ok fine you beat it out of me: I can't stand Coalesce. I've been half-fronting for years but it's time to come clean. That album of theirs 2112: Revolution Is Just Glistening in my collection? A promo. After a few listens in 1999, back to the shelf it went until its contents made sense. In the meantime, I nodded blankly during any Coalesce-related discussion and lent it to friends with vague and evasive endorsements (each hated it except Emily). And alas it never ended up making sense cuz the record is totally pointless, and there I said it. And I heard their bassist will take a dump on stage (above).

At this point, I'd apologize to the (superb) publicist who kindly sent me a copy like eight months after its press cycle but then again, here I am in print basically wearing his balls on my face. And shit now that I think about it, he's the one who made me listen to that rotten Coalesce album. I assume it was his skillz (and studly name) behind the tasteful campaign (balls on face) for their new record, Ox, and again my effort was solid but shit no foiled again I hate it. Ok laterz.

SEPTEMBER SETLIST: TESTAMENT

2009-09-24T07:00:00.000-07:00

Each day this month, join HooM! as we die and go to Testament heaven. It's getting kinda late and you picture your bong laying seductively across your cuddly bed; from somewhere you detect the scent of those chicken pita thingys at the Greek place; time for a loud one with killer intro/outro and absurd solo:

LARS HAD 'COCKS IN HIS EARS'

2009-09-23T09:00:00.000-07:00

I cherish my boner and all its wacky exploits, plus I'm a paranoid, horny weirdo whose blackouts can span days, so it's become my depressing yearly custom to jaunt down to the awful county-operated clinic for a wang diagnostic. And thus we turn up another purpose for Steel Panther at top volume, cuz that shit really brightened up the lobby/sadness tank and sleazed me into a good mood. By the time my balls were being gripped by that shifty, pouting doctor, I'd crossed over from cooperative to effusive then to celebratory. I was pretty close on her accent, which was Columbian though she was half-pleased with my guess of nearby Panama. I only said it so I could sing the song (above) with my wiener in her face. Nuge.

Ahem after all that distress, I like to treat my johnson and face to a late breakfast followed by a rare mid-day goofball. So my junk is resting peacefully right now, but even so I'd wake it up if Lars were here for whomping duties on his stupid face. Then he'd act like he didn't love it. And then mime begging for more. Then don a kabuki mask for a seven-hour show about his dickmark of shame and the vengeful writer who branded his right cheek with a veiny length of man. I'd pull a quote from the Tuesday story about Lars's latest rehearsal for his coming-out speech but shit man it's 11:45 what can I tell ya. So check it here or just read the comments, from which I stole the headline. See those little quotes? That's journalism's perk, like rights of confidentiality (lawyers, doctors), underage sex (teachers, rock stars), or free cupcakes (come on sponsor me Entenmann's!).

THE BIG FOUR TOUR WILL SAVE METALLICA

2009-09-23T08:00:00.000-07:00

Lakers F Lamar Odom is but 29 years old but has survived an shitload of heart-rending tragedies, losses, and random disasters. Even coach Phil Jackson allows for Odom to be a duh-machine plus usually he's kinda brilliant. Anyway to the point ahem if healing for Odom is a sudden wedding to the delicious (but beneath him) Khloe Kardashian, then I can stand for that. Even though a marriage commenced after merely 30 days of acquaintance already reeks of drama and distraction. And I don't think this event moves forward without Kobe's consent. It's in the contracts trust me.

Like I attempted to say up there, tying the knot to a hot, crazy piece like any Kardashian sister sounds sweet and all but will likely end in calamity fast. Just like the tittered-about Big Four tour. On one hand, Metallica hasn't really had any competition on that retard round stage for dickknobs that looks like a freaking USO show, so few would notice if the band has average nights every night. And surely Lars knows that Mustaine will scream his band into kickass shape, and Slayer will destroy even them, so in theory Lars might convince all to play their songs as long-haired men would (above), not like warbling no-playing sorry-ass guffawing douchesacks who now inhabit their bodies. Not literally. Or more likely it will be Mustaine belittling everybody on Blabbermouth alternating with Lars' boasts about being faggy as shit (more on that later). Hey look Marnie is on. Sean Connery and Hitchcock on the same set ha that had to've been a riot.

SEPTEMBER SETLIST: TESTAMENT

2009-09-23T07:00:00.000-07:00

Each day this month, join HooM! as we die and go to Testament heaven. Hey there's the guy who shared a stifled giggle with you at the guy barfing and crying in the next stall; you immediately regret high-fiving a guy who you are certain was just in a disgusting toilet swamp only surpassed in disgustingness by the rancid Eagles Club no-smile zone, no-doors no dignity "bathrooms"; you'd go on ranking live venue shitters (#1 all time is Astro Hall) but then lookout:

METALLICA'S STAGE RAGE

2009-09-22T08:00:00.000-07:00

Now look it's obvious that this rumored Big Four tour would be radness but troubling is the fact that Metallica currently performs on a dumbshit stage for assholes. I wouldn't even know that, but shoot me I just wanted to check out our Doc Coyle joining Lamb Of God in Mark Morton's stead on the current leg of the Metallica global cash removal operation. But holy shit in the above footage I could hardly locate the God Forbid shredder on the barren, black hole of a stage. See this diva shit is why Lars can't be in charge of anything, let alone of the Big Forehead tour. Ok from the crowd's point of view the stage reeks cuz to every seat, only one bandmember is really in your view and it's basically awkward as shit. If it spins look out cuz that's why I barfed at Def Leppard in the round; well that and shirtless Phil Collen cough. The monitor situation must be clusterfuckdom too and wow how alien it must be to face opposite directions as your bandmates, like sitting backwards on the train. And while we're on the subject get Testament on the Big Foreskin Tour, or we'll be punished again with grunge. I mean it's your life. I guess some of us just don't want to go through that again.

SEPTEMBER SETLIST: TESTAMENT

2009-09-22T06:00:00.000-07:00

Each day this month, join HooM! as we die and go to Testament heaven. The bathroom turned out to be a bad idea as your shoes fill with warm toilet water; it's an even worse idea now that you've spotted a small pile of cocaine, abandoned on the counter; with a tilt of your head, you contemplate it briefly but are distracted by a suspiciously long silence between songs and suddenly there are acoustic guitars on stage which means yay:

TREBEK HAS BEEN INCORRIGIBLE LATELY

2009-09-18T09:33:00.000-07:00

The new set on the 26th season of Jeopardy is pretty obnoxious but host Alex Trebek seems to be pumped, all zinging dudes and even indulging in some devilish ribaldry. It was something about long winters in Minnesota indirectly leading to families of 13. Daffy! Ok look I have a confession. All this Trebek talk? It's a charade, a diversion, a misdirection to cover up my terror and anxiety about Joe Perry threatening Steven Tyler in the media as reported on Thursday. This isn't happening this isn't happening Perry to AP:

The tour was building up to be a great tour, and I was pretty (upset), you know. I haven't talked to him in over five weeks. I don't know what's going on with him. I hear he's getting better, but I don't know I really don't know what's going on with him. I was pretty (upset), because right before [his tumble from the stage], he had pulled a muscle in his leg. And we had to take two weeks off, [missing] probably seven dates. All I know is he's got to get his act together. I mean, he and I haven't written a song together alone in the same room in over ten years, so there's been some changes in paradigm of what Aerosmith is.

See that? He's not just bitching about the tour shit; he's pissed off about the songwriting process I mean lack thereof. That is discontent. Tyler's fucking up. That young chick, the foot injury/detox, falling off the damn stage omigod omigod omigod somebody DO SOMETHING.

FUCKIN SLAUGHTER ROXX

2009-09-18T08:00:00.000-07:00

Yeah call it the benefit of hindsight but gulp Slaughter actually had some heavy shit. Now, you basically have to run a red marker through all the schmaltzy songs that seem like refugees from a Don Johnson album. Other than that, "Eye To Eye"? Slammin'! And how about that Vinnie Vincent diss track, "Burning Bridges"! Forget about it. Anyway it kinda reminds me of this girl I felt uh dated in junior high. I totally got snickered at by the record store nerds when I bought the Stick It Live EP for her birthday. Yeah who was laughing when her boobs were out that night? Well not literally. Naked knockers don't really provoke laughter except that once and I already apologized to Maria Brink.

SEPTEMBER SETLIST: TESTAMENT

2009-09-18T07:00:00.000-07:00

Each day this month, join HooM! as we die and go to Testament heaven. It's really time to make a move toward the toilet or trough or whatever so bring on the drum solo; Greg Christian suddenly looks really baked and smily; this next song reminds you of the night that Indian guy from your dorm got kicked off Testament's bus:

TOWNSEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEND!

2009-09-17T07:00:00.000-07:00

I was trying to convince myself today that, having once distractedly half-listened to Devin Townsend's new record, I am now merely taking some time off from it. That was nearly three months ago, reports iTunes, taunting me. The truth is that I'm scared to listen to it a second time. In retrospect, I kinda shoulda been in crash positions for the record what for all the bizarre conceptual ground he's been covering in recent interviews, but please let's respect each other and take it as a given that no matter what is said, whatever the record turned out to be would turn out good. Devin's shit is like that sometimes; it's really big, weird, poppy Metal written, performed, produced, and released by the same handful of people. I've never once misidentified a band's song as one of Devin's, which is the confusing way of saying his records are pure Devin and even the bands for whom he creates whole records don't really live in the same world or galaxy even.

The point I'm slowing sneaking up on is that way back in early summer on that Monday that I stubbed my toe all to fuck and listened to Ki, I did not at all understand what I was hearing. It sounded like a bunch of dicking around! Mumbling! Very little of the album remains in my memory, but simply put I did not get it. I distinctly remember thumbing through a Scientific American or some shit while listening to it! Yes, sadly it is true! And it turns out I've been in denial about this fact since fucking June 22. The reviews are positive and reliable Vince Neilstein likes it. I have to listen to it again eventually, so my hope is it's one of those records like say Mental Vortex or Streets that make no sense at first and then rule your ballz 4 life. If not, it basically means that life has disowned me and I'm in a bad mood until further notice. Wish me luck. Do iiit.

SEPTEMBER SETLIST: TESTAMENT

2009-09-17T06:00:00.000-07:00

Each day this month, join HooM! as we die and go to Testament heaven. A bit of crowd turbulence during the previous song caused you to finally greet the foxy Goldie Hawn chick in the Forbidden shirt with a swift elbow to the breast; your exaggerated gesture of apology clotheslines a teenager so you high five each other like an outtake from The Naked Gun; sensing romance in the air, Testament wants to get you alone with the lights off:

GUITARISTS SAVE THE DAY AGAIN

2009-09-16T08:00:00.000-07:00

Darkest Hour is kinda breaking my heart, because, like Dillinger Escape Plan and Caliban, they blew my world apart one night in concert then have failed repeatedly to deliver a great album. Dillinger is frustrating as hell in their inability to write more than two types of song (Bad Religion syndrome), but Darkest Hour is a close second, somehow eluding awesomeness despite counting among their ranks a Crown superfan and one of two murderous lead guitarists. It reminds me of my uncle groaning through a Sunday listening of Souls of Black, dismissively stating that no amount of superb guitarwork can salvage shitty lyrics and go-nowhere songs. I agreed curtly, but thought We haven't even gotten to "Absence of Light" yet, fucker.

As guitar playing gets awesomer and albums sound more rushed and formulaic, this idea is growing less true. Just ask the guitarists of Black Dahlia Murder, Shadows Fall, and Megadeth who've elevated respectively great, tiresome, and outright fraudulent Metal records with awesome fretfucking. Mustaine fired the drummer's damn brother to hire guitarist Chris Broderick, and the big asshole must be thrilled to get a Friedman-level player at less than the Pitrelli price.

AMERICA WILL BLOW UP THE MOON

2009-09-16T07:00:00.000-07:00

Paul Gilbert told me last week (reading it might be nice after all that your mother and I have done for you) that he wished rock musicians shared the tendency of their classical counterparts to like perform the classics. Hearing that, I began to imagine trying out for first guitar chair in the Los Angeles Metal Orchestra, but seriously, Gilbert presents a thrilling idea. Those clenched-cheeks violinist types don't write shit, don't create shit, can disguise crummy playing amid up to a half-dozen clones, and generally get tongue-bathed for their precious skill of mimicry. Meanwhile, cover bands are derisively spat upon, usually by bearded guys in unsuccessful ahem "original" bands, even though a good cover band is instant party and dour baldcore makes me want to punch babies. The shittiest "Electric Slide"-playing wedding band kicks the shit out of Pouty McBeardslacks & The Over-Its any day. But anyway, I guess in classical music(s), the music is king; in pop, performance and spectacle share a spine with composition. Too bad.

Gilbert later mentioned that Dream Theater drummer Mike Portnoy is the brains behind the tribute events in which Gilbert and others have rocked a setload of The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, or Rush. Sounds fun and hmm as it happens, the most recent words I exchanged with Portnoy were on the topic of San Francisco greats Jellyfish, and Gilbert's new record with Freddie Nelson is very Jellyfishy (above), and lastly any living being that's ever heard Jellyfish would give their eyes for loud, live Jellyfish, so count this as my unsubtle plea to the two handsome, stylish, virtuosos to put me on lead vocals for a Jellyfish tribute event on the fucking moon for all I care. The mic was just removed from James LaBrie's asscrack? No problem! I'll smash this chick like blammo! Call me, Mike!

SEPTEMBER SETLIST: TESTAMENT

2009-09-16T06:00:00.000-07:00

Each day this month, join HooM! as we die and go to Testament heaven. Probability-wise, how is it that every errant foot finds your chin; the dudes in front of you sympathize and pass you the charity nub of their joint; it must've been angel dust cuz it takes you the first 28 bars of "The Legacy" to discern what key its in, which makes sense once you realize that actually they're playing "The New Order":

WARREL, TAYLOR DANE

2009-09-15T07:00:00.000-07:00

Equal in my book to the great insulters of this world (see yesterday's blue ribbon rank-out here) are the ruiners. The out-of-line. Like Jarvis Cocker when he waggled his fanny at Michael Jackson's audience. The incident with Sebastian Bach's abominable t-shirt. Or even ignorant-ass Daz Dillinger instructing an awards show crowd to 'sincerely from the bottom of [his] heart ... eat this dick.' So naturally I'm a superfan of Kanye West's bad behavior, which first caught my eye post-Katrina with that anti-Bush outburst that turned Mike Myers gay. Since then, West has generously donated to the world delightful bratery and whitey-angering loudmouthery, but none as empowering to the square community as Sunday night's drunken hijacking of a defenseless Taylor Swift's acceptance speech at the VMAs. Taylor Swift? Sound more like VM-Gayz. And newsflash, Beyonce sucks ass so I guess we're going to agree to disagree here. At any rate, my vote for best female video this and every year since 1990 is Sanctuary and their hot-ass singer, named Wendy or Carol or something. I heard Mustaine banged her.

SEPTEMBER SETLIST: TESTAMENT

2009-09-15T06:00:00.000-07:00

Each day this month, join HooM! as we die and go to Testament heaven. Hey great, drunk ass no shirt guy has appeared behind you and is climbing up your back; you now smell like seven types of B.O.; a crotch-grab to finger-sniff self-probe comes back negative for jeans-pissing but arouses suspicion from Goldie Hawn chick:

CHRIS ROBINSON GIVES GOOD HOLLER

2009-09-14T07:00:00.000-07:00

I owe a debt of thanks to this guy at my old job whom no one could stand for furnishing me with Black Crowes' Warpaint record. That was last spring though I was shocked a couple weeks ago when I discovered that the earth-shattering album closer "Here Comes Daylight" is a bonus track? What the shit. So now I'm really grateful to superstud cuz there's no way I'd've gotten the iTunes version, and my life would be poorer one classic divorce song. But anyway it's a tremendous number so some personal issue must be the cause of its absence from the album proper. And yeah if I didn't have this Hal Leonard jihad on my plate, it'd be my mission to ask Crowes' singer Chris Robinson about it. At any rate, I think he could use some time to cool down after the brutal invectives he thundered down on venue security at Wednesday's gig (above). Freakouts are inherently funny and all the better when the shitfit is in the name of good. Good weed, I mean.

SEPTEMBER SETLIST: TESTAMENT

2009-09-14T06:00:00.000-07:00

Each day this month, join HooM! as we die and go to Testament heaven. You definitely have to take a leak but hope to just sweat it out; occasionally looking in your direction is a Forbidden fan who resembles cutie pie Goldie Hawn in Foul Play; if only you would have known Chuck Billy was about to rip your head off and shit down your throat, but alas now you have shitbreath:

SEPTEMBER SETLIST: TESTAMENT

2009-09-11T11:00:00.000-07:00

Each day this month, join HooM! as we die and go to Testament heaven. Someone's denim-covered bulge is being pressed dangerously close to your brown zone; two bouncers doze serenely at stage left; your junk throbs excitedly as Testament unveils a rarely (if ever) played classic:

SLAYER HURT MUSTAINE'S FEEWINGS

2009-09-11T10:00:00.000-07:00

My innernit went down last night and I can't help but think it had something to do with a Thursday HooM! comment, easily the most repellent, silly, and random comment in HooM! history. By severing my eithernet connection, the forces of nature perhaps tried to protect me from the lewd, vulgar suggestions made regarding the lovely Gabriela, this just as I began to despair of the lack of comments. And now, after the scarring imagery and irrelevant ethnic potshots, my wishes for greater HooM! interaction seem foolhardy. Be careful what you wish for.

Anyway, those pornless hours last night allowed me to revisit a pre-web lifestyle. Thus I repaired to the parlour where I thumbed a novel over tea. Actually wait no I conked out on my bed, fully clothed; awakening to restored internet connection, I found yet more blather from Dave Mustaine, who has ramped up his lip-flapping in honor of another procedural, self-aggrandizing non-album (streams here "Dialectic Chaos" gimme a break). Mustaine addresses recent comments from both Tom Araya (above) and Kerry King, which he, in a state of fearful denial, has forgiven them for:

I am aware that there is stuff out there that has been said about me; some of it is old, some of it is new. I am disappointed in the new comments, but I am going to remain professional and give Kerry and Tom and Slayer the benefit of the doubt and hope that it is just old stuff, and be the best tourmate that I can be. Either way, I pray for the guys in Slayer, although they may not want it, but I do. I pray that we'll be friends again someday, I pray that the tour will be as much fun for them as it is for us, and I pray that they will be as happy as we are and more.

Wow. How big of Mustaine to forgive Araya and King for correctly identifying him as a bag of cock. It inspired me to forgive the gross pervert who so crassly reduced my soft-focus, wine-and-roses fantasy of prolonged love-making with Gabriela to some dimly-lit border porn. Now apologize to Gabriela, fucker. Apologiiiiize.

WHEN'S CAVE IN ASKING ME TO PROM?

2009-09-11T08:48:00.000-07:00

Huh. So let's try to figure this out: The new Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans movie doesn't share a writer, director, star, character, setting, mood, message, or anything with the original Abel Ferrara/Harvey Keitel shocker. Which is weird, cuz I always thought when two entities share a name, they must have something else in common. It reminds me of the disappointing return to action from Cave In, Planets of Old (listen), an EP of uncharacteristically weak material which fails to even approach the timelessly hooky space-rock of their best albums or the feisty metalcore of their early outings.

I'm holding out hope that the record will get some needed context in concert -- with Coalesce at the Knitting Factory in October -- but ugh. And it's true, they just got back together, but at this point the quartet sounds confused, attempting to play music with which they are no longer connected. Or possibly trying to find a common ground on which all members of the band can meet, only to end up totally lost. Four grown men standing in the parking lot of their old high school. Well, somebody pass them this note I wrote in study hall: I'm mad at Cave In!

GABRIELA Y ANSO

2009-09-10T09:01:00.000-07:00

It's a point of pride that I've never succumbed to the temptation to uncouthly hoot and holler at onstage chicks from the crowd. But now it seems likely that I would've done had there been a lass hot enough to require it. Which sucks, as a passion of mine is merciless ridicule of male Fiona Apple fans and other idiots who listen to music made by sexy dames. Tell me, I'd ask, do her tits appear before you when you push play?

Well, that semi-mature, faggy me died last summer when I heard Rodrigo y Gabriela (translation: Rodrigo and Gabriela). Now it's true, it's two acoustic guitars which I usually take in small doses. But as is well documented, R y G are awesome and have covered Metallica blah blah. Even mentioning their Metal tributes belittles the pair; their stuff breathes Metal even without these open nods to the greats of the genre. Both developed cutting-edge playing techniques, which I'd love to further explore once I bat my boner out of my eyes. Listen to the new record here. Gabriela call me!

TAINTS OF LOS ANGELES

2009-09-10T08:05:00.000-07:00

It's irresponsible and lame to use a virtually anonymous internet platform to wish bodily harm on a human being. But Motley Crue's Nikki Sixx is 90% vagina so he doesn't qualify as a person with feelings. So I double-taked like a motherfucker when a co-worker hipped me to the news about a stabbing at a recent Motley Crue show in New York. My first words were Has Sixx been neutralized? Has this month's HooM! Poll (vote over there) spurred some wackjob to fatal action? Can you see this pie stain on my shirt? The answer to all three was no. Sigh.

Trouble started for John Bieganski when he thought he saw a friend being tackled and punched by one or two other men. When he tried to pull one of the men off his friend -- it turned out not to be his friend who was being attacked -- Bieganski said he suddenly felt something warm on his leg, touched it, and then saw the blood. He required 28 stitches to close a gaping 4-inch wound on his leg.

Unless he got confused cuz, say, Bieganski wears Sixx brand clothing and thus closely resembles Flabby McDoublechin, I can't understand the unidentified assailant's rationale. Wait, unless he planned to heave Bieganski's prone body onto Sixx from great height, crushing the lardass bassist to death. Shit we've all contemplated doing that.

SEPTEMBER SETLIST: TESTAMENT

2009-09-10T06:00:00.000-07:00

Each day this month, join HooM! as we die and go to Testament heaven. It's mid-show crash time, so Eric Peterson just pointed in your direction to pump the crowd, to which you respond "Yeahblurgwwwihheflavfigloy!"; your third vicodin has made it seem reasonable to stumble into the designated mosh area; sensing an opportunity for revenge, Testament plays an old song with the word pit in the title:

SOBER JANI SIGHTING SOBERING

2009-09-09T08:30:00.000-07:00

Daath guitarist Eyal Levi's guest column on Metal Sucks struck close to home on Tuesday in its frank discussion of drunk driving. I consider myself a drunk driving scholar, simply because it's easy to take notes from the passenger seat while careening down the streets of America's drunk driving Graceland. For some it's a macho thing ("I ain't jrunk"), while for most in that region, it's the result of suicidal tendencies (not the good kind, but justified still). For my friends, though, it was a skill. It was the only time they paid attention to the road. And I cultivated my preternatural ability for spotting hidden highway cops. Rollers! I'd exclaim, and joints would be lowered and the driver would step off the hood and re-enter the car. Safety first.

I'm pretty sure that ex-Warrant singer Jani Lane isn't legally allowed to be intoxicated following his DUI in June, which probably explains why lately he can successfully breathe and hit notes in concert, as evidenced by footage from an August 28 gig in Hollywood. My spine kinks at the thought of sobriety -- especially gulp lasting sobriety -- but well-performed music is its own reward. So cheers to Jani for ceasing to suck donkey dicks in concert (here here or here). It's funny though, cuz when I heard Jani singing the correct words in the same key as the band, it felt like looking the wrong way through a peephole; I must be fucked up. Then I spied Bulletboys drummer Jimmy D'Anda behind the kit and never felt more sober. Life is weird.

TOO MANY THINGS WERE SAID

2009-09-09T07:00:00.000-07:00

A few incredulous readers have complained that windbag/poser Nikki Sixx is placing so poorly in this month's HooM! poll. Yeah, I too am shocked that so few wish to seal his speaking and breathing mechanisms with kwik-dri cement; but there's some stiff competition up there. Sharon Osbourne leads as of this writing, but unlike Sixx, her mouth isn't principally what makes her detestable. It's her unethical business practices, outbursts of anti-hottie violence, and metal cock blocking. So she's a shoo-in for the hypothetical poll What Mega-Cunt Shall We Catapult Into The Sun?

But here and now, we're deciding the overlord of shittalkers. A retarded dunce who claims to have painstakingly chronicled a life-threatening heroin addiction as it happened, only to publish these vital insights to promote a unspeakable side project. An infantile moron who threatens to expose the exploits of philandering producers to their wives 20 goddamn years after the fact. A shit-for-brains fuckwit who tirelessly imitates rock 'n roll royalty like a pathetic hanger-on, measuring himself by his ability to fulfill misperceived celebrity cliches. And who never, ever will shut the motherfuck up about it. Vote Sixx.

SEPTEMBER SETLIST: TESTAMENT

2009-09-09T06:00:00.000-07:00

Setlist is a HooM! serial in which an unreasonable jerk designs an awesome band's most fantastical, logistically impossible night of live mega-Metal. The dream concert set: both the best and the best-known, played before an throbbing ocean of insatiable Metal freaks.

Each day this month, join HooM! as we die and go to Testament heaven. Seven songs in, the crowd is fully lathered; the main floor, like Phil Anselmo, reeks of sweaty balls, cheap weed, and fart; Skonick seductively points his Les Paul at your crotch as he begins to DERka-derka-derka-derka DERka-derka-derka-derka DERka-ka DERka-ka DERka Derka-derka-derka-derka:

NOW YOU'RE JUST BEING DIFFICULT

2009-09-08T07:00:00.000-07:00

I understand that Slayer guitarist Kerry King feels it's necessary to wrestle attention away from at least two outlandish uber-bimbos (Ulrich, Mustaine) whose antics distract from the band's forthcoming record World Painted Blood, but his claims lately have been alternately hateful and far-fetched. Why just the other day he told somebody at Metal Hammer:

I don't know Lars that well and I haven't heard it from Lars, but apparently he's talking to somebody about maybe us, Metallica, Megadeth, I think he even threw in Anthrax and I said in this day and age, I know we had that time together, but how do you leave out Machine Head? There's better options than Anthrax and that's nothing against Anthrax, but they've just been in pieces for quite some time and that doesn't make as much sense to me.

OK wow Kerry you're kinda all over the place. First, a magical, imaginary tour with Metallica headlining over Slayer, Megadeth, and Anthrax? Um I guess it's possible, like say if Lars is looking to consolidate his power and exploit the ongoing Thrash Metal renaissance. Could happen. Oh but you'd have to promise Mustaine all sorts of ridiculous shit, like a coffee roaster and strategic No-Lars Zones. Anyway, then you have bewildering praise for Machine Head; that just sounds like four vicodins and a Red Bull talking. OK, he's right about the Nonthrax line-up issues, but Machine Head's best is way more depressing than Anthrax at their very worst. And I've seen both so yeah trust me. And lastly, dude, is Testament a figment of my fucking imagination? I thought we all agree that it should've been the Big Five. Fuck it. Remember that Headbanger's Ball tour with Anthrax, Helloween, and Exodus in like 1989? Well, HooM! could steal that idea for Testament, Cynic, and Municipal Waste and none of you fuckers are invited.

SEPTEMBER SETLIST: TESTAMENT

2009-09-08T06:00:00.000-07:00

Each day this month, join HooM! as we die and go to Testament heaven. "Let Go Of My World" proved that Chuck Billy's pot abstinence program has been fruitful; but now Testament is gonna play a chill number for all the lovers --lovers of Satan's evil.

IT'S SO SIMPLE MAYBE YOU NEED A REFRESHER COURSE

2009-09-07T07:00:00.000-07:00

I overheard a guy in St. Paul bitterly claim that the unnavigable city must've been designed by 'a drunken retard.' Even drunktards have kids apparently, because a descendent of St. Paul's city planners seems to lately have been managing Italian pop-metallists Lacuna Coil. First, real leadership might demand that their live show undergo some tightening up; even overlooking the stage banter (awful) for the more pronounced faults of performance, I'd ask this hypothetical manager if not one of those other four sucks can pull their weight with some live backing vocals? And o! the awkward pauses and bad haircuts.

But more enraging is the Hysteria-esque single choices. Lead single "Spellbound" is Shallow Life's ninth-best melody; follow-up "I Like It" is a veritable taco dip of shrill tunelessness to say nothing of the unwatchable video. Neither seems aimed at a particular listening group. Meanwhile, the album's would-be hits are moldering. See, you've got all those chin piercing, stifled machismo, dour Disturbed types on loud rock radio who'd love a band whose name phonically implies vagina oil, right? I suggest "Underdog" (above). Hmm and if there are lots of complicated pants guys and Pet Shop Boys fans on the dance floor, just crank "I Won't Tell You." How about the Titanic/Armageddon Hot AC crowd (ha I said hot A.C.), hasn't Shallow Life anything for their maudlin, workaday souls? BAM! "Wide Awake." But wait, you say your daughter is 16 and likes to harm herself. Sounds like she needs to be slapped by the awesomely melodramatic "Not Enough." I mean, it's all ball-bearings these days.

SEPTEMBER SETLIST: TESTAMENT

2009-09-07T06:00:00.000-07:00

Each day this month, join HooM! as we die and go to Testament heaven. In fantasyworld, the band plays even the songs they've once disowned; at the mention of their polarizing heavy rock record The Ritual, I prepare to rip my pants off and throw them on the stage; my underwear ultimately went of their own accord.

SEPTEMBER SETLIST: TESTAMENT

2009-09-04T07:06:00.000-07:00

Each day this month, join HooM! as we die and go to Testament heaven. Somebody has awoken the sound guy cuz suddenly you can hear the bass; the band has formally thanked me for coming to the show tonight-ah; do we wanna hear some old shit?

BATSHIT RUNS THROUGH MY FINGERS

2009-09-04T06:00:00.000-07:00

I admit that when it comes to W.A.S.P., I'm pretty easy. For example, I once listened to The Neon God I + II in one sitting at the suggestion of frontman Blackie Lawless. Heck just the other day, all it took was the words pro-shot footage posted following the band's name and a colon (no not that kind) and next thing I knew, Blackie was creeping me out with his analrapist stare and then with concert footage of an extremely machine-assisted "L.O.V.E. Machine"; you can really tell how Trent Reznor's gonna look at 70. Side note "L.O.V.E. Machine" when not performed by voice-activated robots is totally me and my gf's song. It all started when I found a W.A.S.P. video hits VHS at the library. She said then that it was her first time seeing anyone sprinting from the checkout counter. It seems she's choosing to forget the homeless guy I shoulder-checked to get out the door.

Aaanyway one of my hatest things about Blackie is his political views, which are the stuff of caricature. But then again, screw it I really love The Headless Children, and Still Not Black Enough is up there too (judicious DIY editing tip: Axe one of the ballads, "Rock N' Roll To Death," and on the Jahpahneezu baazhone, also the ill-advised Queen cover "Tie Your Mother Down." I did and was able to pack Remain In Light on the same blank CD whammy). But seriously, have you ever heard The Headless Children? It's really good and includes Lita Ford, who, if the liner notes are to be believed, keeps guitarist Chris Holmes hard. I might be misremembering that and totally sound gay so hey look up there it's a song from that very album. It's about motorcycles!

SEPTEMBER SETLIST: TESTAMENT

2009-09-03T08:00:00.000-07:00

Each day this month, join HooM! as we die and go to Testament heaven. Two songs in and your beer is officially empty; somebody in the immediate vicinity has farted; it's time for a song from the new record.

THOSE TWO GUYS OUT OF DIMMU!

2009-09-03T07:00:00.000-07:00

I set out to hurt Dave Mustaine's feelings on Wednesday but it's clear I need a lesson in written smackdowns from the remaining members of Dimmu Borgir. Before last night, there was no reason to read any statements made by the dismissed because those statements were also made by a bassist (ha) and a keyboardist (you must be kidding). This rebuttal, however, explains a lot about the festival of yawns that was my last Dimmu live experience; they sucked but, I figured, it's tough to follow Behemoth anyway. But here we are reminded that it's always the usual suspects: bassist and keyboardist. If there's no keyboardist, then it's the drummer. Learn this now or later be the unhappy authors of a structurally superb (and grammatically commendable) public break-up letter. Weighing in at a ahem comprehensive 2,500 words, here it is. All of it, boy.

Man, what a shitstorm response!

Too bad all the shit is thrown in the wrong direction.

Oh, well, what else could we expect?

We don't blame you as you still haven't heard the other side, the band's side.

We have put up with unprofessionalism and bad live performances for years. This couldn't be ignored anymore as we firmly believe the fans deserve the best on both records and shows.

First of all, a big thank you to those who still have their own mind intact and believe in the music of the band and not only judge by what is falsely accused in statements posted online by recently fired members based on their ignorance, bitterness and greed. A quite normal human response when being disappointed, but we hope you kept in mind the saying that goes: 'Those who scream the loudest have the most to hide…' but: 'Only when we're calm we'll be able to listen.'

We have a feeling, judging from some of you and your 'jump-to-conclusion'-type of comments and responses, that some of the reasons that are about to be explained might as well end up as too much for you band member 'fans' to grasp the magnitude of, or to handle. We'll give it a try.

The true fans of the band and its music already have shown their support and understanding without us having to explain it to them in detail. But for the rest, anyways, here goes:

Let us give you a few things to chew on — perhaps especially to those of you that have already taken sides. Some of it concerns both Vortex and Mustis collectively; some of it is separately based issues. And yes, it might come as a surprise to some of you but they were fired with a reason.

To make it seem less of a soap opera and less embarrassing, if this is even possible at this point, for those it concerns, we'll keep things simple and straight to the point.

On a side note and in comparison, just keep in mind that people have been fired for way less in this and other bands before. So for those of you who think we didn't try and make this work and did this out of anything else but what we thought was best for the band, please think again and consider the following written words below carefully. At the same time, as we hate to ruin the idea of how some of you guys perceive this band and its members both in a positive and negative way, those of you who care deserve to hear the truth and here are a few excerpts, out of many, we might add.

Let's put things in perspective for a second: For someone to be in a band, on any level, first there's got to be commitment and dedication, a drive and urge to do what you do, whether you're part of the songwriting process, planning the touring part, business part, the administrative part or simply just the performing part — doesn't matter which one you're mostly involved in. However, you need to be involved in some of it to a certain extent to be considered and treated as a member and you have to show some sort of level when it comes to responsibility, not only for yourself but for others around you as well.

Over the course of 10 years period, there's also something you either develop the comprehension of or you don't (most develop this basic approach way sooner), called 'understanding of how things are run.' We know it sounds blunt, but it's important that this is being enforced on behalf of everyone involved within a band and its working partners. After time, you've got to know and accept your place and what role you have taken and your ability therein; the sooner you do this, the better. Remember, you still — at the same time — have to continue to earn your place and work for it, respect it and nurture it like a child, even after years of success. It doesn't come for free, it doesn't stay for free and it doesn't leave for free either. We're all replaceable.

Are you part of a band for the right reasons? And do you really want this? What are your thoughts on the aspect of being away from home over shorter and longer periods of time performing for your fans? Are you aware of the sacrifice you have to still do after all these years to be able to continue this and are you aware of the workload and the sacrifice not only the other members have done and still do, but also people working with the band in other areas have done over the years, while you haven't?

You need to do your part, or at least do an attempt to be given a fair chance of survival, even if it's not as much. Certain simple basic things, which are spawned out of common sense, those are the things we expect from you. That's if you want to be looked at as a member of a music group and be taken seriously.

The things mentioned above are all obvious factors and basic principles you need to be square on and aware about; if not, you're wasting yours and other people's valuable time.

Further down is a couple of things Vortex and Mustis simply 'forgot' to mention in their previous statements respectively. Also the fact that Mustis' statement(s) not being written by himself but by someone else means it is false accusations and have been registered as such by our lawyers.

Lesson number one, the obvious one: Don't forget to bring your instrument when you're about to play a festival in which you're going to perform in front of thousands of fans that have travelled far and paid money to see you play. Maybe you haven't been into it so much the last couple of years and it's — on top of that — an early flight; you feel things are a bit tedious — no worries, we all experience this from time to time but we know the deal by now after so long, and so many years. Or, so we thought. But we shouldn't have to remind you to bring your own instrument to a gig. For that there's no excuse, neither will we accept one.

Lesson number two, a less obvious one and can easily be forgotten while under the influence but still: Don't hurt yourself in an alcoholic rage smashing a glass to your forehead, putting yourself, your band 'mates,' crew, not to mention the show(s), in jeopardy. Remember, the money you care so much about getting, compared to the minimal of effort you put in won't be paid out to you or anyone else in the band if the show(s) doesn't happen. You have responsibility. We suspect this weren't part of your calculation, obviously none of us are perfect but as a grown up person, we expect more. Luckily for you, the makeup covers the cut from the smashed glass on your forehead onstage.

You did manage to get away with general bullshit, classical cocky, rock-star attitude and carelessness — this time too. You wouldn't get away with it at home around your family so what makes you think it's fine to behave like an asshole around your band members, your family away from home? On-stage equals posing, off-stage it's a no-no. But, contrary to other times in the past, there simply won't be another chance and you know so goddamn well why you're not given yet another. Suddenly we're the bad guys because you expected another shot out of mere habit, just because we were too nice in the past to grant you another one and another one.

Your stage sound and set-up we won't bother to address anymore. Your stage performance lately we won't bother to mention either. You know why you're not part of this band anymore, don't make excuses and make it look like it's someone else's fault when you very well know it was you alone who put you where you are right now.

Now, auctioning off your band's most recent album on eBay, only signed by yourself, can't be looked upon in any other ways as pure greed, not to mention mockery, towards the rest of the members of the band that you're still in, AND the fans. Attempting to sell a CD of the last album (which you can still get hold of in shops) with only your signature on it for the highest bid is a remarkably low act.

Instead of getting hold of some work to do, if money is what you so desperately seem to be needing (while you actually maybe rather should be considering working on ideas for a new album if you're so concerned about being credited correctly), you rather believe the easiest and fastest way to money must simply be to start a blackmailing procedure against the other members in the band holding important files as ransom — files that are the band's property which we need for future projects that would bring you money later eventually, in one way or another. Now it won't. Not a very smart and thought out thing to do. Not to mention the fans now have to wait for these special releases because your ego for some odd reason is hurt and in total control. These files, which we handed over to you in good trust over a year ago as a band member and what we'd consider a brother despite your lazy ass, not surprisingly you haven't even touched it as part as bonus features special of a re-release campaign including certain albums. Instead, you threaten to sue your fellow band members for neglect and not treating you right monetary-wise.

Isn't it typical? You both want to harvest the fruits, but putting labour into it yourself is not so important. See how long that'll last in real life. Ironically, it lasted this long with the band, finally now that time is over.

This shouldn't be acceptable. So what do we do? We don't accept it. After all these years wiping people's asses and feeding their mouths, we're forced to take on another strict angle, like you do with kids when nothing else works. To be forced to almost constantly spend energy on dragging someone to practice for instance and be part of a unit — a force, is tedious for the rest of us. Always an excuse not to do what's expected of you.

To the best of our efforts, we've tried to explain over and over, again and again, how the business side of things works, but when ignorance is bliss and the people it concerns fail to even meet at band business meetings, later not understanding and realizing because of the obvious fact that they weren't present, the deal is then suddenly we're 'hiding something' and 'I must get ripped off, there's no other logical explanation!'

Sounds familiar to some of you readers?

But on the contrary, we've not been afraid of encouraging the use and exploration of talents of other members elsewhere while still being in the band. We have even handed over major projects on a silver plate but to not even bother replying to such offers speaks volumes. We can't do that job for you too. What about the talk of a certain 'solo' project for the last 10 years? Where is it? Talk, that's what it is. Talk and no action.

Still complaining, not trusting your partners for the last 10 years when receiving a pay check, worth way beyond your song'writing' ability and what you're already credited for is fair in your eyes. It's amusing and at the same time sad to see how little reflective and humble grown people can be sometimes; or in this particular case, most of the time.

Stop acting like composers and songwriters until you have written and released something on your own that's worthwhile and we'll see how well you do.

To quote Vortex in his very own statement: 'I have really enjoyed the ride!' Sure you have, it's been for free! Either because of lack of interest, dedication, understanding and capability or all of those.

So a word of advice: For those of you who'd wish and would want to work with either of these guys in the future, please be prepared to discuss business first since the art of music comes secondary.

We believe there's no need to go into further details; it'll be highly embarrassing. It already is for the rest of us and most sane people get the point by now. If you feel you haven't been appreciated, this goes for both, then why did you accept the large sums of money all these years that has been handed out to you? It was convenient, wasn't it?

For how much longer should we accept a service on stage that has slowly deteriorated over the last few years which we know other bands wouldn't tolerate, seeing as your performance simply wasn't good enough and your self-critical view was like zero. Explain that. But you wanted the cash, pretty typical. Give someone something even if they don't deserve it just to keep everyone happy and they want more of it. Don't take credit for something you haven't written.

If you knew how to arrange and write a song, you would have already, just like the rest of us. But no, your lazy ass is too 'busy' complaining about not getting what is 'rightfully' and 'legally' yours. Funny then, how the new album is halfway finished written already by the rest of us without any of these guys' input, still having all those elements we're known for. Even having obligations and work with other bands simultaneously on the side. But those who still believe in the band and its music, and not in recently fired members' bitterness, greed and fear of what's around the corner, will understand this when the next opus is out.

We could write a book about previous members and their separate reasons why they're not in the band anymore, but we believe you don't want to hear most of it by now.

This wasn't an issue of the typical 'musical differences' bullshit statement either. Other bands cover up their shit with that worn-out excuse, but musical differences is exactly what makes this band sounding unique. Sadly, some of the members lost the focus along the way; some people close to the band will say they did that a long time ago, and for that there was simply nothing we could do anymore. We can't force people to do something they obviously don't want or care about. We tried — but they didn't. Our patience and goodwill is not everlasting.

So for those of you who still think we owe them more than a phone call or an e-mail letting them know their 'services' are no longer wanted and needed, think again. We just had enough and for that we're not sorry. We're only sorry it didn't work out in the end.

And to those who think greed played a part in this, so absolutely, and now you know whose careers are run by it and whose isn't.

MAKING AN ARSENAL OF MEGADAVE

2009-09-02T07:00:00.000-07:00

Between a billion breathless interviews and his own blog (I think), the Dave Mustaine demographic is represented in contemporary media to a profanely disproportionate degree. Latinos as an ethnic group are less visible than Mustaine (vote in this month's poll over there), who used to be in Metallica and cries about it on camera. Up til Countdown, I put up a shield of denial about Metal's most tireless narcissist; Dave seemed more tragic than hate-able, and as a young Thrash Metalilst I could relate to public humiliation albeit not as public nor humiliating as being fired by Lars Ulrich. But once his records became hollow, pointless exercises in self-fellatio, Dave's awful routine went from tiresome to nauseating. His Metallica inferiority complex has resulted in some of history's worst and most poorly produced hard rock ("Almost Honest") and his arrogance ensures that he is earth's sole inhabitant who doesn't consider his career a strictly defined by Metallica. And like Metallica, now that Metal is ahem popular again, he's suddenly all fucking Metal and not like The Black Album with a colon blockage.

Granted, the guy has good cause to be a nut; for 25 years, dudes have been pestering him about Metallica. And Metallica themselves are king shit of Metal, to Megadeth's lord fartwhiff. I get it -- it stings. But how about this Dave? Be a man about it. That's kinda sexist or genderist or something, but yeah. Suck it up. So you took one in the nads back in the 80s. Shit in the '80s I used to roller skate around my parents' basement listening to the Who's That Girl? soundtrack. I'm over it. Just be cool, goddamnit. Like me!

SEPTEMBER SETLIST: TESTAMENT

2009-09-02T06:00:00.000-07:00

Setlist is a HooM! serial in which an unreasonable jerk designs an awesome band's most fantastical, logistically impossible night of live mega-Metal. The dream concert set: both the best and the best-known, played before an throbbing ocean of insatiable Metal freaks.

Each day this month, join HooM! as we die and go to Testament heaven. The opening song is over; Chuck hails the crowd of 40,000; the dude repeatedly slamming into your right hip has yet to deposit a crinkled hair into your mouth:

THE SUPER HAPPY STEEL DAN-THER CHALLENGE

2009-09-01T07:00:00.000-07:00

It was exactly a week ago that I awoke with a smile and an unfamiliar aftertaste in my mouth of pride. And stale liquor. But mostly pride. The reason? The night before, I'd once again broken a daunting metaphysical barrier and, in defiance of the forces of nature, had tread in two mutually exclusive realms like a character from Twin Peaks. Such a task demanded dedication, stamina, and drugs. That's right, friends: I saw Steely Dan and Steel Panther in the same night. Steely took the stage at 9 and again destroyed of course, this time with the aid of guest guitarist Larry Carlton. Hours later, post-concert fatigue set in as a result of the screaming, the strenuous high-fiving, and the evasion of the crappy corporate venue's shock troops, who materialized with headsets and command presence at even the faintest whiff of pot. But we needed more.

Naturally, we hotfooted it over to Sunset and Doheny to the aptly-named Key Club in time for two hours of Steel Panther (above, rocking Japan just days later/ago). I'd wanted to impress my out-of-town friends -- mission accomplished -- so HooM! Horns to McLovin, the even-hilariouser-than-usual Michael Starr, and of course his laser-precision eye for selecting the crowd's craziest, strippingest chicks. At one point, there were some freaking chicks on stage who aren't allowed to legally buy alcohol. Hey Nineteen, y'all.

SEPTEMBER SETLIST: TESTAMENT

2009-09-01T06:00:00.000-07:00

Setlist is a HooM! serial in which an unreasonable jerk designs an awesome band's most fantastical, logistically impossible night of live mega-Metal. The dream setist: both the best and the best-known, played before an throbbing ocean of insatiable Metal freaks. Each day this month, join HooM! as we die and go to Testament heaven. The lights go down; a roar issues from the crowd; five shadows flit into the smoke. The opening song is

THIS IS THUNDERDOME

2009-08-31T09:59:00.000-07:00

Ha yeah Thrice has made some great songs but they are way pretentious and therefore ripe for antagonism. Decibel has done so publicly to Thrice and 15 other awful bands in the somewhat inadequately titled The Deciblog Screamo Cover Elimination Bracket. Wacky covers are lame, and if four grown men record an aggro cover of chick anthem or crunk/hopster hit, then they deserve the shameful label of Screamo no matter what. But don't tell that to the sandy vagina Thrice fans out there. People, even your favorite bands do stupid shit occasionally. It's ok to call bullshit on them. In fact, it's healthy! You can directly thank me for Iron Maiden's Brave New World; I complained that shit into existence. No joke.

Anyway, the happy news for us is that the angry, unreasonable HooM! viewpoint is represented in the Bracket. Actually, of the two songs I drew, I'd planned to write about one of them anyway. Huh. Wait a second. You see what's going on here, right? OK people listen carefully, somehow Decibel's Nick Green has gained control of my thoughts. Don't just sit there staring. Stop him!

The Deciblog Screamo Cover Elimination Bracket (so far)

DAY ONE

Drop Dead, Gorgeous vs. I Set My Friends On Fire

-- Mike Riggs, Washington City Paper

Brokencyde vs. A Static Lullaby

-- Axl Rosenberg, Metal Sucks

DAY TWO

Confide vs. Escape The Fate

-- Kevin Stewart-Panko, Decibel et al.

Surrender The Dance Floor vs. The Devil Wears Prada

-- Cosmo Lee, Pitchfork, Invisible Oranges

DAY THREE

The Number 12 Looks Like You vs. Framing Hanley

-- Mark Evans, Decibel

A Day To Remember vs. Ice Nine Kills

-- J. Bennett, Decibel

DAY FOUR

Thrice vs. Attack! Attack!

-- Sergeant D, Metal Inquisition/Stuff You Will Hate

Set Your Goals vs. Atreyu

-- Anso, Hipsters Out Of Metal!

MALPRACTICE MAKES PERFECT

2009-08-31T06:10:00.000-07:00

Faith No More is back together and duh that's awesome. The Jim Martin issue never has bothered me; the instant that King For A Day...Fool For A Lifetime was released, I decided that Martin wasn't worth missing. It's only recently that I've begun to pine for the dorkwad guitarist, who once dropped like 60 F-bombs in a 300-word feature in Guitar Player. And so it seems like the end of an extended episode of denial as I acknowledge to myself that Martin's thudding, over-chorused riffs are quite muscular and speckled with awesome bits of melody. Like the solo in "Land of Sunshine"; the "Be-hee-hey-lieve wany-hey-aye-they-hang anyone ever tells youwoowoe" part in "Caffeine"; the entire middle section of "Malpractice" (above, playing only the first part of a song is fucking annoying); each juicy second of "A Small Victory" and "Underwater Love"; in fact, only on "Kindergarden" and "Jizzlobber" does he fall flat at all and only briefly.

And further, Jon Hudson may have crafted one of history's most memorable solos in "Stripsearch," but he is so blank and boring in each frame of reunion tour footage I've seen. A guitarist is supposed to be a point of interest in a band; Hudson has no zazz, zork, or even kapowza. Meanwhile, a scenery-chewing Mike Patton seems out-of-tune and short of effort. He's been energetic and wacky, but indifferent to pitch and disinterested in the songs. Maybe I'm too hard on Patton. Ha I said hard-on.

AN INSULT TO DIO IS AN INSULT TO US ALL

2009-08-28T07:48:00.000-07:00

To a pre-teen, Dio pretty much seemed like Carla from Cheers slinging indecipherable metaphors based on rainbows and mountains and shit. Further, my young mind struggled to surround the idea of a gruff, admonishing elf in the place of the cuddly everyman John Osbourne, and the drastic changes to Black Sabbath that resulted. But adulthood brings new perspective, Dio-era Rainbow is fucking awesome, and each year brings a new Metal documentary in which he comes off as pleasant and principled. And that's precisely why he will never ever ever sing Ozzy-era songs. And no sane person would ask him to. Oh wait. Heaven And Hell guitarist Tony Iommi to Boston Herald:

We love 'War Pigs' and 'Iron Man' and 'Paranoid', but we've played those for 40 years so it's been a nice change. Maybe next year we'll do some of the old stuff.

Yeah this is fucked. Dio and H&H have an awesome new record in addition to the pair of juggernauts which they rip to shreds live (above), while Ozzy is nothing but baggage, a self-defeating slosh who will stop at nothing to destroy his music and garner the world's animosity and scorn. Now it's true, Dio would slay those songs. But come on this is insulting and beneath Dio's contempt. I mean, should your gf be forced to learn the portions of your previous chick's demented, deviant sexual repertoire? No really, she should right? That's what I've been telling her. She won't even watch the video examples I so courteously furnished for her use. Women.

METALLICA AND ME: BROTHERS IN SUCK

2009-08-27T08:34:00.000-07:00

You'd think by this point that being called an asshole and a failure wouldn't ruffle me, especially when I deserve it (always) but this time goddammit I'm really trying to come through for everybody. Seriously I am. In all facets of my professional and personal life. Is it too little too late? Does my effort have a negative effect cuz I'm a retard? Ugh.

Anyway for an encore to Wednesday's failfest, stand back as I get all angry that those rotten bastards in Metallica pull ahead in the damn fucking Bob Rock poll (on the right). It was a concession to some of Rock's most commercially successful work and a polite nod to the least shitty song on a hideously bland hard rock album for pussies. "Of Wolf And Man" is in no way comparable to the other songs (vote DLR you fuckers) in quality, from the unfinished chorus and hyper-corny hunt-themed verses to the sublimely farty Hammett solo. But then again, it's wrong to ask a question and then be enraged by the answer. So my boss and gf are right about me. Shit.

LYNCH MOB N*GGAZ ARE THE CRAZIEST

2009-08-27T07:48:00.000-07:00

A small point of pride is my early discovery of extremely profane hip hop. A major point of shame is that responsibility for my pre-teen N.W.A worship was an issue of proto-hipster magazine Option. If memory serves, R.E.M. frontman Michael Stipe graced its cover, but inside was a surprisingly lengthy feature on the most dangerous non-Slayer band in America. Soon after eye-raping the article and deciding to dedicate my life to discomfiting squares to a similar extent as N.W.A, I marched to the record store where I passed over dozens of Metal tapes to purchase Ice Cube's debut solo album Amerikka's Most Wanted. In 1990 it was kosher for a recent 13-year old to plunk down $12 for an hour of R-rated sociopathic/-political rap. Good times.

It is weird, though, that throughout the record Cube namedrops George Lynch's post-Dokken band like a billion times. I was expecting him to turn up on Lynch Mob's debut record that same year, but no dice. Just tons of kick-ass hard rock. But on that same note, back when Rocklahoma was announced there was a shit ton of Lynch Mob talk coming from Lynch -- singer Oni Logan's return, a proper sequel to the aforementioned record, blah blah blah. Boner City, right? But what followed was months of Lynch's other project (with a guy from Brides of Destruction), a cancelled tour with Cinderfella, and a trek with Paul Gilbert (yay!) and Richie Kotzen (nay). Well, fucking finally Lynch Mob is ready to party and the record's done and good gravy Lynch is threatening to tour with Dokken here somebody else wrote this already. Lynch to someone:

I'm talking a little preemptively here, but one of the things on the table is a potential Dokken-Lynch Mob tour — kind of like that WWF spectacle where you come out with all that history and get people talking, and that's always good. And we'll play some Dokken songs as well in our set. And they're welcome to play some Lynch Mob songs, but that's not gonna happen... I'm kidding.

Uh Lynch has every right to be a douche, but really he thinks Don Dokken is going to allow this? Joining Dokken on stage? Playing Dokken songs immediately prior to Dokken's set? Oni Logan whaling on his cheeseball antics? That will neverrrr happen! Or maybe Lynch is joking. He's joking. Yeah. That's it.

THOSE WORSE THAN HIPSTERS OUT OF METAL!

2009-08-26T08:31:00.000-07:00

Ugh on days like yesterday, one resists with great strength the urge to legitimize brazen fucktardery like this (above) with precious time and energy. But shit I'm petty, so yep those are new shirts bearing the visage of earth's most pathetic attention hound and internet non-celebrity. Poison is deserving of no defending cuz they suck balls, but all the same this is worthy of a nuclear-strength taint-kicking (in addition to the metaphorical load that Reign In Blonde shot into his eye).

Kinda like the booting destined to haunt Wolf Marshall, author of the ...And Justice For All guitar tab book. Which Hal Leonard hasn't bothered to update or revise since its thoroughly inaccurate pages began misleading tone-deaf teenage heshers 20 fucking years ago. Which, at $25, is grossly overpriced not even counting the suffering that accompanies even the briefest visit to Guitard Center. Which totally failed to impress my gf as I amorously leafed through it using my boner. Oh anyway but seriously Fuck Perez.