MUSTAINE RULES*

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?

GOATWHORE FANS, I IMPLORE YOU

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.

GUITARISTS SAVE THE DAY AGAIN

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.

WARREL, TAYLOR DANE

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.

SLAYER HURT MUSTAINE'S FEEWINGS

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.

NOW YOU'RE JUST BEING DIFFICULT

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.

MAKING AN ARSENAL OF MEGADAVE

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!

STEELHEART SAW A GAP IN THE MARKET

I am a living, breathing human and therefore am enraged constantly by Megadeth onlyman Dave Mustaine's diarretic flow of self-worshiping egospeak. His regular entries into the annals of jackassism do not rise to the level of absurdity, thus going ignored by HooM! But apparently I'm a sadist and/or Blabbermouth is great at teasing his latest volumes of mouth-vomit (actual e.g. Dave Mustaine: 'I've trained a horse to rape my face' Video available). From Friday's Blabs:

I love every one of you that ordered the coffees and stuff, but all good things must come to an end, and the end is near for Dave Mustaine's coffee. I have done my share with helping [Pam Mustaine's coffee company] and helping the Door of Faith charity, and now I am going to look for something new and exciting to do again.

Yes, Dave, sub-moronic people who like both Megadeth and coffee will buy your coffee blend at least once; yes, Dave, that'd be an easy way to goose revenues for your wife's boutique business endeavors; yes, Dave, with amazing speed dissolves the threadbare novelty of exchanging money for some cynical non-product bearing your name, at which point you simply discontinue. That is called hucksterism and it makes you a bastard. Among other things. Thank goodness Steelheart is here to pick up the slack.

THIS WEEK WAS STUPID AS FUCK AND YOU KNOW IT

Fucking damnit I don't know who is running Earth this week, but it's probably a drunk retard cuz director John Hughes died at 59, yet Brett Ratner and Riki Rachtman walk the earth hale and healthy. And this year's Rock Gone Wild is in grave peril (Dangerous Toys and Junkyard on the same fucking day!). And meanwhile, so-called god turns a blind eye to reprehensible crab-ass urbilly beard-orgies and garbagecore fests headlined by Limp B****t and L***** ****. And now Metal Sucks is slagging Jake E. Lee, thunderaxe (above, ripping shit apart at Badlands rehearsal, RIP Ray Gillen). Fuck life.

I know I sound hysterical but goddammit it's really piling up around here: The Ozzy-Zakk thing; the Nelson-Bush-Ian's fat mouth thing; Mustaine's starting to pimp his kid out just like Deaddie Van Halen (see what I did there? State school no really!); and yeah the guy behind Planes, Trains, and Automobiles is dead. Hughes also wrote the first and third Vacation movies. And Ferris Beuller's Day Off was his too. So, yeah, basically the films that showed me how to vulgarly rage at both strangers and my family, and how easy it is to deceive those vain enough to assume positions of authority. So yeah I'll be wasted in the pool until further notice.

SO UH WHO GETS MJ'S PHARMACOPIA?

This week What Would Tyler Durden Do? ran a tabloid headline claiming that in the six months leading up to his death, Michael Jackson consumed a whopping 10,000 multicolored uppers, downers, screamers, and/or laughers. So basically he took down an ocean of pills -- the anti-depressants alone are a Lake Erie -- on top of Demerol blasts into the spine and all the other weird shit inflicted on that cursed post-human. Whoa. Damn no wonder there's so much blubbering about this; Pfizer's bonuses just went right in the shitter. Well rest easy folks cuz I'm rolling up my sleeves here. It won't be easy to pick up MJ's slack, but goddamn it someone's got to try haven't they? Those drugs musn't fall into the hands of actual sick people.