www.derekerdman.com - S'Colin Tappe, holmes.

			I get some seriously brilliant messages from Colin Tappe. Here are some of them: 12/07/03: I'll tear your fuckin' Muslim head off...AND THROW IT AT YOU!: Derek, I recently obtained an issue of "Blood Book" #1 off ebay for the price of $25. Though that may seem like a lot to pay for a 12 page xeroxed 'zine, after reading these interviews with Confront and Integrity circa' '90, I believe you'll be inclined to agree that this was a paltry fee to pay. I'm looking for other issues of "Blood Book," so if you come up on any, let me know. Many of the later issues came with 7"s, and one had an interview with Boyd Rice, who was in a dream of mine last night. I made an Integrity shirt with puffy paint over 4 years ago, and I still wear it! Heavy metal rules! Blue Oyster Cult Rules! Seriously, though. I listened to "Secret Treaties" 4 times in a row last night (it's a cassette version, mind you, so I even had to keep flipping it) and I have to say, that's a GREAT album. "Cagey Cretins", man, holy fuck. Then some kids tried to prank call me at 3:00am and I explained "Agents of Fortune" to them while finishing christmas paintings. Hey, not to ride you, but what's up with those VH boots? Last year was the year of B.O.C., Roky Erickson, and Gary Glitter. This will be the year of Van Halen, Funkadelic, and if I discover a band that excites me as much as any of the afforementioned groups, them too. Not to say that GG, Roky and BOC are atrifacts of the past...Far from it. Last year was simply the time I was first discovered those groups. Here are the interviews. Please tell me any anecdotes revolving around early 90s Cleveland/OH hardcore. Seriously, spare no details, 'cause I'm VERY interested in this stuff right now. Hey, there's a picture of the singer of Confront wearing a Kent State hoodie! Hellhammer rules! Both of the following interviews are from Blood Book #1. Originally, all the text was in capitals, but I tried to make the typing a bit more pleasant on the eyes. I kept MOST of the grammatical errors in tact (take the perpetual misspelling of "MEDIATOR"), for archival purposes. Others I just couldn't stand to look at, so I fixed. Honestly, there is at lease one syntax error per answer in the original interviews, which just gets frustrating to read after awhile. Today is to be held a most sacred day here in Cleveland Heights for today is the dawn of a new beginning, a new breed of hate mongers. This is the day of death, a day of destruction, a day in the life of.Integrity. DH: Fuck that kid.He's fucking dead. X: Yeah, he's a fucking dick. DH: That little fucking FROSTY. Fuck that mediater. X: What did you actually do to that kid? CF: He fuckin' head-butted the kid, broke his nose in 3 places!!! X: Alright, what is your feelings' about homosexuality (faggots)? DH: They should perish those fuckin' sinners! X: Let's talk about the Meanstreak/ One Life Crew. DH: We play no games. We fight. We win. A2: No one fucks with us. DH: We are warriors. We have been thrown into an environment where compassion is a weakness, where violence is our only answer. We must fight to survive, and survive we must. X: Your song "Live It Down" portrays the idea that you are vegetarians. DH: It seems, as of late, that if you write lyrics that others can relate to, they try and throw you into a position so that they can use you for their foot soldier. We are no ones boy. We aren't down with PETA, ALF, or any other established organization. "Live It Down" is about fucking pussies who don't have enough balls to hunt their own prey. They rely on a mass of chumps who slaughter cows.COWS! Now I ask you; what fuckin' challenge is a cow? A cow is the slowest, weakest creature on Earth. Com on, if you crave the taste of flesh, be a man! Fight for the privilege and the honor to dine on another's existence, but for god's sake, at least chose a worthy adversary! X: Are you willing to play with other bands (drunks and/or stoners)? DH: Yeah, we will lay with sinners, [but] that doesn't mean we are down with them. We are playing with Chain of Strength, not to say we aren't gonna show those chumps up. The One Life Crew supply the HARDEST bands, no mediating about it. X: Do you have any messages that your lyrics wish to portray? DH: All my lyrics are personal. They are mainly about violence (our only excuse) and hate. I am not out to have a following of little medies with champion sweat tops on bawling to make some changes they know nothing about. X: Do you have a hate list? DH: More like a "hit list." I hate Release, Pitbull, OMS, Sockeye, Frosty of The Artichoke, little spike (faggot), the Coventry Mediaters. All the new little straight-edge kids who don't know what they're fucking talking about. X: Closing comments? CF: Fuck Brian Forest-Faggot you little medie! DH: Points go to the MOB (Men Over Boys) for exposing the Cleveland Heights black power gang situations. Now maybe someone will realize they are as bad as "the devils" they condemn. Fuck them! Fuck those racist bastards! If they fuck with me.I'll tear their Muslim fuckin' heads off! Fuck you Cleveland Heights! We are the One Life/Meanstreak violence squad! This interview took place in Kirtland Hills, Ohio, right outside from the famous Lundgren Cult killings. All the cult members from this monstrous crime have been apprehended.All but three. Now you, the reader, for the first time get an unedited look into the world of.CONFRONT. MS: Violence! I love violence! X: Mean Steve, what was your most memorable show? MS: 2 years ago at JB's in Kent, Ohio, when we played with those mediating faggots Youth of Today. I call them "Mediaters of Today." X: What was Confront about? MS: Being straight edge, not newcomer, nothing like OMS. The Cleveland scene is about going to shows and fighting people. Paul: Who cares what other people think? We will fight them! X: Do you regret any of the negative publicity that the local faggot college radio stations gave you? MS: I loved it! My goal was to be the most hated band in Cleveland. Paul: And to offend anyone who ain't like us. X: Who do you hate the most? MS: Anyone who ever believed in me. Paul: Youths of today. Tom: Whoever crosses me. MS: Fuck Pitbull. They're little faggots and are gonna die.PAYDAY BITCH! X: Any insight into the Lundgren Killings? MS: Keep up the good work, Lake County. Paul: You're finally getting your weak ass county on the map (and I like how you did it!) Tom: Lake County, Dwid's hometown, is getting better by the minute. X: Are either of those "Keebler" faggots still in Confront? MS: Jay may still be on drums, but we kicked his nerd-ass brother out. X: How much are you guys benching? Tom: 250 Lbs., free weight. MS: Over 200 lbs., but it doesn't matter. I can destroy anyone mentally or physically as long as I can curl a meat cleaver. I can cut their throats. X: Who owns the Coventry? MS: One Life/Meanstreak hate-edge fighters who cause dismay. Tom: We do, the Cleveland One Life Crew. Dwid's name is on the lease. We just got a new fountain to baptize sinners in. X: Do you think those OMS mediaters learned their lesson yet? Tom: The kid who spent the night in the emergency ward better have. MS: They couldn't have because we have only just began to teach them.Murderer style! Paul: My goal is to beat every OMS kid until they all look like frosty from the artichoke. X: What do you think about the new straight-edge kids? Steve: Hitting people as hard as you can for no reason. Paul: Fad. They dress like mindless dickheads. X: Closing comments.. Steve: If anyone crosses me, I will kill them 20x worse than I killed Amy Mihelivic. Paul: Screw me over once and I'll screw you over 100X worse (got it Blaine?) Tom: Meanstreak is on a rampage. Steve: I am a murderer.You are a mediater. Fight me!!! 10/08/03: Peter Hammil, aka GOD: here's my latest attempt to schuck the lib'rul guilt sufferin' teachers at my community college whilst simultaneously wasting space on your website. I'll send it as an attatchment as well. Enjoy. Hey, weren't you in that old group Some Other Band? http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=2562048722&category=20813&rd=1 look up completed items for "sloth". You may/not be suprised. Mirrors fucking OWN. Heard Pentagram, but don't own anything by them. Been on a Samhain binge lately. It's best we don't talk about it. Crime Desire CDR ALMOST ready to be sent out. I still need to finish/print the packaging and get a remastered version, since the old one's fucked up. Disreantiyouthhellchristbastardassmanx 30 second/one sided/8 song ep is out. Due to an error at the pressing plant the blank side was pressed with the music of LOUIE ARMSTRONG, making it the D...X/Louie Armstrong split 7". 30 seconds of D...X on one side, and, like, 8 minutes of Louie Armstrong on the other. Huh? Only 300 copies, and you're getting one sent to you as soon as I can send the Crime Desire CDR with it. Uh, know anyone who wants to put out a 12"? Here's the essay. Enjoy. "On the Validity of Terror" From its inception as a viable music genre, rock and roll, despite its myriad of sonic diversities, has always had one strong, unifying undertone: sex. Just as sex and popular sexuality have developed through the late half of the twentieth century, so too has rock music. Contrast the coded "whop-ba-ba-loo-op-a-whop-bam-boom" of Little Richard in the late 50s with the post-sexual revolution battle-cry of Led Zeppelin's "I wanna give you every inch of my love." Of course since Nine Inch Nails got regular airplay with a song containing the line "I want to fuck you like an animal," in the mid-90s, the need to be subtle and discreet about rock's raison d'etre has become about as arcane as the birds-and-bees allegory. A particularly interesting facet of rock music which represents its own nook in the sexual spectrum is the hardcore punk genre, in particular, a contemporary group by the name of Terror. To understand the music of Terror, one must first understand Terror's place in the history of hardcore punk, a genre which has existed since the late 70s. The roots of hardcore can be traced to three groups who released singles in 1978: Los Angeles's Black Flag, and Midddle Class, and Washington D.C.'s Bad Brains. These three groups, along with a handful of others, adapted the concept of playing rock music with an emphasis on high energy and attitude over technical proficiency, which was heralded by the punk rock bands of the mid-late 70s such as the Ramones, The Damned, and the Dead Boys, took the idea to the nth degree, playing faster, louder, and with even less commercial potential than the iconoclastic punk rock bands of the time. What started out as a few singles and bands in Los Angeles and Washington D.C. soon spread nation-wide, with every town sporting its own hardcore scene. In the first wave of U.S. hardcore, between 1978 and 1986, the fundamentals of what would become the attitude, ethics, and sound of U.S. hardcore would be set in stone, or, more accurately, in the vinyl grooves of records from Minor Threat, Void, Agnostic Front, The Meatmen, Negative Approach, SS Decontrol, MDC, The Big Boys, Angry Samoans, Heart Attack, and literally thousands of others. In the mid-eighties, groups like Suicidal Tendencies, D.R.I., and Cro-Mags would fuse the aggressive thrash of heavy metal with the attitude of hardcore to create a sub-genre which would be deemed crossover. Hardcore has never quite regressed, and since the crossover movement, the once distinct line between metal and hardcore has been all but erased. This is the school of hardcore from which Terror earned their degree. Terror's ethics of playing small, all-ages venues and releasing albums on independent record labels rather than chasing after a major label record contract qualifies them as a hardcore band, despite the fact that their heavy sound and shrieking guitar leads have more in common sonically with Black Sabbath than Black Flag. In hardcore, though, attitude counts for just as much as, if not more than, the actual sound of a group, and though the sounds might have changed drastically since 1978, the attitude of hardcore is a timeless one. Conventionally, when one inspects the lyrics of the hardcore godfathers like Black Flag, or Minor Threat, one is immediately taken aback with the hostile, anti-social themes. When Black Flag's debut album, Damaged, was released in 1981, a stipulation in getting the album distributed by a major label was that a pre-PRMC warning sticker adorn the jacket reading; "as a parent, I found this to be an anti-parent record." Generally a hardcore song can be placed in one of the three following categories: personal alienation (Minor Threat's aptly titled "Out of Step"), political outrage (MDC's "John Wayne Was a Nazi") or utter absurdity (Angry Samoans' "They Saved Hitler's Cock"). What makes hardcore so interesting, however, is not so much the themes expressed, but the theme NOT generally expressed: sexuality. Hardcore is a sub-genre of punk rock, which is an extension of rock and roll, and, as previously stated, THE predominant theme of rock and roll is sex. Why, then, is sexuality so rarely addressed in hardcore? Take an album which I consider to be as apt a meter stick of rock and roll as any, Van Halen, by (of course) Van Halen. Of the 11 songs contained on Van Halen, no less than NINE are either directly about sex, or allude to sexuality in some way. One MIGHT find a cumulative of nine songs relating to sexuality if one read through the lyrics of 20 or so of the most progressively written hardcore albums of the early 80s. Keeping with the attitude of hardcore, Terror has yet to write one song directly relating to sexuality in their two years of existence as a band. Why, then, is sex such a taboo subject in hardcore, a sub-sect of rock and roll, a medium notoriously obsessed with sex? First one must look at the demographic of the fan base of hardcore. Generally, hardcore consists of socially awkward males between the ages 14-20. That being said, few of the members of the groups writing hardcore songs are all that experienced in the ways of love. Furthermore, fewer still of the fans of hardcore music have enough experience to relate any would-be songs about sex and love to their own lives. Next, the very aural nature of the genre must be taken into account. The sound of hardcore from any era is a very harsh abrasive one, prohibiting sexual tactics used in other sub-genres of rock and roll. Whereas Edward Van Halen may be able to ejaculate all over the hook of one of his songs with a wild guitar solo, or Mick Jagger verbally seduce his listeners with sultry unfettered wails, there's little time for seduction or crooning in a 45 second song blasting at 1000 beats per minute, especially when the members are screaming at the top of their lungs and hoping no one can figure out the guitar player doesn't even know the requisite three chords to keep the song together. But in the mad scramble for a hardcore group such as Terror to avoid the "S" word, either lyrically or sonically, an insight into the true sexual nature of hardcore is revealed. Upon closer inspection of Terror's lyrics, music, and live show, it is clear that hardcore has, even from the beginning, addressed a very specific aspect of sexuality: masturbation. Just as the music of Van Halen, or any traditional rock and roll band, contains undertones of sensuality meant to entice the sexual desires of their listeners, the music of Terror is mainly composed of rigid, angular guitar riffs and a hard, pounding beat, completely devoid of anything sensual or gentle. From this simple description of Terror's music one can reason that if rock and roll connotes two people making love, then Terror, and hardcore music in general, is the soundtrack of a male masturbating, pounding away with frenzy for one simple purpose-to get off. With this in mind, the masturbatory undertones of Terror's lyrics are impossible to overlook. The lyrics are by-and-large composed of seemingly inconsequential lines strung together so as to evoke a feeling of bitterness with life in general. Once looked at as a whole, however, the lyrics to Terror's sole album Lowest of the Low evoke a theme of masturbation in keeping with the sound of their music. Lines such as "You'll never take from me" and "I don't need your help/ I'll do this shit by myself" from "Don't Need Your Help" suggest that not only will the hypothetical potential sexual partner, referred to as "you," never "take," as in gain pleasure, or a sense of vilification from giving pleasure to the subject (who always speaks in the first person in Terror's songs), but the subject seems not even want the assistance of any other person. Furthermore, the subject's reference to the act of sex as "shit" applies a negative connotation to sex from the perspective of the subject; as if the subject's sexuality is a chore rather than a source of pleasure. The song "Better Off Without You" speaks for itself as far as asserting the subject's preference of masturbation over sexual interaction with another person, and even implies a negative view of the opposite sex. The line "no regrets, no shame" from "Push It Away" establishes the subject as vehemently non-repentant in regards to his or her preferred sexual practice, and the line "I walk alone among my enemies" from the same song suggests that the subject uses pornography as a masturbatory aid, "walking alone" being an allegory for pleasuring the subject's self sexually, and his or her "enemies" being the opposite sex, or images thereof. Often one can gain a greater insight as to what a band is truly about by seeing their live show, and how the audience and band interact. I was privileged enough to be privy to such a live experience on August 31, 2003 when I got to see Terror play live at the Che Café in San Diego. Seeing Terror play live and watching their fans interact with the music is what first clued me into the particular facet of sexuality focused on by Terror, and mainly addressed in hardcore in general. Contemporary hardcore dancing is unlike any style of dance in the history of rock culture. Dancing, especially in regards to rock music, has always been a highly sexually charged ritual in which partners pair up and try to impress each other with knowledge, and proficiency in execution of current popular dance styles. The better an individual executes his or her dance moves, ideally, the better his or her dance partner is made to believe he or she will be in bed. As prudery in regards to sex has devalued over time, so too has the need for disguising the sexual allegory of dancing, and thus contemporary standards find no fault in partners virtually rubbing their groins together, throbbing to the beat of the music. With such social freedom in mind, namely regarding the expression of sexuality in dance, it's fascinating to watch the ritual of the contemporary hardcore dancer. Nobody pairs up to dance to the music of Terror, but instead they break away from the crowd, wave their limbs menacingly, and secure their own isolated space on the dance floor. Once the dancer is at a safe distance from other members of the audience, he or she will violently throw punches or kicks in the air, reaffirming not only that he or she is "better off without you," albeit even if just as a dancing partner, but also that the participant has a violent nature, thus warding off any potential partners with intentions to "take" from the dancer in question. One may either look at this particular dancing ritual as break-dancing for dummies, or a disco where nobody gets laid at the end of the night. If Terror and their ilk are indeed as seemingly anti-sexual as their lyrics and attitude suggest, then a critic may ask what place Terror and hardcore have, even as a sub-sect in rock and roll, a medium which not only historically embraces sexuality, but is virtually fueled by sex? Well, it's not so much that the nature of rock invalidates the hardcore music embodied by Terror, but, conversely, that Terror's seething of masturbatory themes solidifies rock and roll as the premiere medium for aural expressions of sexuality. By including Terror under the umbrella of rock and roll, instead of shuffling them into a junk drawer marked "stoopid hardcore music," the genre adds a valid facet of sexuality-masturbation-to the spectrum of sexuality addressed in rock and roll as a whole. If critics and rock music fans continue to dismiss the significance of hardcore bands like Terror then the nature of sexuality expressed in rock and roll truly hasn't progressed past "whop-ba-ba-loo-op-a-whop-bam-boom". "Works Cited" Black Flag. Damaged. SST Records, 1981. Terror. Lowest Of The Low. Bridge 9 Records, 2003. Van Halen. Van Halen. Warner Brothers Records, 1978. 9/24/03: Colin Tappe schools me on the sounds of SoCal: The Ungol was Oxnard, my friend, not just some "LA" band. He-he, I had friends from Oxnard who would be really sensitive about that. Hey, Agression was NARDCORE, man, and only a FOOL would ever just refer to Ill Repute as SOUTHERN CALIFORNIAN hardcore! He-he. Get Up Kids shirt? Fuck it, man, he's already gone. Sentence him to 8 hours intensive Roky Erickson every shift you have with the guy. Then, and only then... Metal Mike sez all that sixties shit was only worth buying if it's the 45. I'm listening to Bubble Puppy's 1st, and I'm starting to agree with him. I mean, Hotgrass and Sasafrass is god, but I dunno 'bout the rest of this bizness. Hit and miss, y'know? But then who could live without the non-singles of like, Shadows of Knight, or Frijid Pink? Oh well... Hey, I was only calling for the $$$, bro. He-he. No, I've been meaning to call for awhile, actually, but you haven't put your phone # up in a long time. Now it's mine, ALL MINE!!! Metal collection? Any copies of Celtic Frost's "Into The Pandemonium"? My Sabbath vinyl collection is actually shit, too, made painfully obvious after listening to "Masters of Reality" (CASSETTE copy) all day. Oh shit, and if you ever come across any Funkadelic y'all don't need, drop me a line. I have paypal, and am not afraid to use it. Hey, here's a letter I just wrote to this underground comics gal Mary Fleener who talked at a class of mine once. Don't post it on your webpage, though, 'cause I'm gonna write a more formal (?) version for your official usage sometime down the line. Never fucking mind, this Bubble Puppy album is awesome. Still pretty inconsistant, but so was...HEY, BLACK SABBATH!!! FUCKING OF COURSE!!! Hey, I took a comic book class awhile back and you did a talk with us, and I was bugging you about the Seeds, and all that. You said something about how your generation was too late to buy all that peace and luv boolshit, and you deamed yourself part of the (and I fucking LOVE this) THE BLACK SABBATH GENERATION! ahem FUCKING OF COURSE! I mean, what's the sound of a generation of hippies dying? Probably sounds something like a Tommy Iommi riff right? Anyhoo, here's an interesting theory of mine: if you were age 16-19 in 1967, you're probably part of the hippie bla-bla-bla generation. Now, if you were born '52-'55, you would be too young to get suckered into that bizniss, and probably a little bitter about it too. This would put you at 16-19 in '71, the year "Paranoid" (and yeah, they had an album [two?] before that, but "Paranoid"'s what BLEW UP for 'em stateside, right?) came out, hence THE BLACK SABBATH generation. Now, let's flash forward to '92, generation X and all that. Ages 16-19 in '92, and that's, obviously, Nirvana's "Nevermind" gen, right? Now, a kid like me, I'm 21, born in '81, way too late to blame for the propelling of that mope-rock self-pity garbage. So, the question is, what do I belong to? What is to Gen X what the Black Sabbath gen was to the hippies? Well, let's do some math... if '71 was it for Sabbath and heavy metal (hey, hey, hey, that wuz the year the term was first officially used in press, even! Bonus points if you can name WHO credited it and what the album was) and that was 5 years after '67 (including the years themselves), let's see what was goin' on 5 years from '92, Nirvana's reign, and all that... Now, keep in mind this group would have to sum up the disillusion with the previous generations ideals, and embrace sonically and ideologically the utter antithesis of the generation before it as Sabbath did with the hippies. Any guesses? C'mon, 1996... OF FUCKING COURSE! The fucking Spice Girls! Who else could it be? I mean, who brought back SONGS? Who killed the dark cloud infiltrating radio airplay of those filthy longhairs from the FUCKING PACIFIC NORTH WEST (utterly repulsive geographical location)? Well, okay, Hanson too, but really it was the Spice Girls who brought the sensationalism. Not to mention they were the only group that mattered asthetically since the New York Dolls. So next time you hear some whiney grunge rock bullshit from the early 90s (STP, Nirvana, Sound Garden, Tool, SMASHING PUMPKINS ['prolly worst of offenders] and any of those other fucking worthless whiney self-loathing crybabies...there are not enough goddamn concentration camps left standing to give you and all your immitators ["Oh, but I like Nirvana!" Well guess what, next time you cringe at a Creed song on the radio GUESS WHO YOU HAVE TO THANK!!!! Fuck bad early 90s rock sympathy!!!] the treatment you deserve!!!) DON'T FUCKING BLAME MY GENERATION, 'cause us hip 16-19 yr olds back in '96 (I was an xtra hip 15 year old) had our hears wrapped around a band that fucking MATTERED. We will no longer be subject to "Generation Next", or "Gen Y", or any other such flat out LAZY monickering. We are SO far removed from that Gen X shit it ain't even funny. SPICE GIRLS GENERATION FOREVER! ('til the 16-19 yr. olds of 2000 turned it into the BLINK 182 generation that is...Oh well, "Enema Of The State" blows "Nevermind" out of the water anyday, so nyah! The real question is who will come along in late '04 that'll champion the next gen? Dare I say...THE HILARY DUFF GENERATION? One can only dream...) 9/14/03: Colin Tappe's take on the newset Metallica CD: Choir Boy Frustration So this madness all started with the MTV Icon: Metallica special, which is basically a big jerk off session with numetallers spewing their load over the “influence” of Metallica on their music, and, indeed, ALL LIFE AS WE KNOW IT! Groups like Staind, Korn, etc. all played covers of old Metallica songs, mostly from the fucking “black album” (because only PUSSIES do “s/t” albums!) if that’s any indication as to how fucking CLUELESS the collective jackanapes partaking in this sick circle jerk were. Interjected between these pornographic displays were montages of video footage frankensteined together and narrated VH1 Behind The Music style so as to tell the story of Metallica, told backwards and chronologically. All I managed to see was the “we’ve been working on this new album, St. Anger” part of the Metallica story, as I promptly changed the channel after Avril Lavigne’s performance of “Give Me Fuel” (the only reason I was watching to begin with, ‘cause I mean, c’mon, if you’re gonna do a bad Metallica song you might as well go all the way to Reload, and yes I’m talking to you Staind, you “Nothing Else Matters” covering faggots!) which thankfully they scheduled early in the program. At some point within the day I was, uh, DOING SOME RESEARCH on Allmusic.com, and they had a feature piece on Metallica’s St. Anger, which of course I had to read. There it was; two seeds of hype planted within 24 hours. Now anyone who knows me knows that I’m not only susceptible to hype (how many other GUYS do you know dumb enough to actually OWN a Strokes LP?), but will go as far as to PRAISE hype as being one of the only truly important aspects of the modern pop group. That being said, I should have known right there that I was done for in regards to St. Anger. Father Perturbation With St. Anger’s hype machine working overtime inside my brain, I was gratified to say the least when I finally saw the video to the album’s single “St. Anger”. The video is a fucking GEM, lemme tell ‘ya. Metallica are playing at San Quintin, and in between the band playing the single to a bunch of entertainment staved prisoners (Pick one of two of the following useless parenthetical interjections: a) talk about a CAPTIVE AUDIENCE! Gua-hu-hu OR b) “hmmm, should I get gang raped in woodshop or go and see the filming of the new Metallica video?”) there’re these short skits of minorities committing crimes and going to prison which resemble all those straight-to-video gang themed films that were so popular when Boyz In The Hood first came out. As if Metallica finally tapping into the oft-neglected “incarcerated gang member” demographic isn’t good enough, the song, St. Anger is one of the biggest pieces of shit you’ll EVER hear on any airwaves. My jaw dropped when I first heard how AWFUL the thing sounded. I mean, I honestly can’t recall the last time I heard a single from a “Major Artist” like Metallica with such shitty production! Even the cable access Christian video shows would blush at the not-even-demo-worthy sound quality. Needless to say, “St. Anger”, and thus St. Anger were now weighing HEAVILY on my mind. Bishop Anger to Rook Rage My friend Matt sympathized with my now-obsessive morbid curiosity regarding St. Anger, both the song and the album. I mean, how the fuck did this thing get on the air? How the fuck did they release the album on Elektra? It’s like they put the goddamn thing out, and OOPS, “hey Bob (Rock, the fucking producer of this disasterpiece), uh, you forgot to mix the album!” And as bad as the production is, “St. Anger” is one of the most downright BIZARRE songs, musically, to get airplay since Justin Timberlake’s (or should I say Pharrell Williams and Chad Hugo’s) “Like I Love You”. First of all, even the radio edit is long for contemporary airplay standards, and juxtaposed to the Creed-esque lite-numetal parts are these sorta fast pseudo-blast beat death metal parts. Then during those numetal parts, the new bass player guy Robert Trujillo (we assume; super vague liner notes meant to disguise the fact that Bob Rock played bass and co-wrote the album don’t say who does what specifically on the album) does these guttural Biohazard-esque back up vocals which sound utterly PREPOSTEROUS next to Hetfield’s sung out crooning. Add the constant PLONG PLONG PLONG of the drums that sound like fucking ANVILS, and you’ve got a strange little ditty polluting the cable music video channels during a summer of great songs/videos by Beyonce, AFI, The Ataris, Joe Budden, etc. Saint Anger: Prologue After days of watching video channels for long periods at a time WAITING for the “St. Anger” video, which (big surprise) NEVER gets played, I had to admit to myself that I had officially infatuated myself with this song to the point where I would need to procure a copy of my own. I e-mailed a friend of mine, Derek, who works at a record store, and sent me a copy gratis. According to him the CD/DVD set had sat in the used bin at $8.99 for over a month. After the package arrived, the CD just sat idle for few days. I was too intimidated to play it. I mean, I was delving into pretty shady territory even having something like a new Metallica album in my house, let alone my CD player. I mean, what if I listened to this thing long enough and it actually GREW on me? Trust me; it’s happened to worse records before, and what if the album was SO bad that I couldn’t even listen to it? Did I really want to have to admit defeat at the hands of St. Anger? Yet I could never be defeated if I never challenged the album by listening to it. The album was staring me down, and it seemed to me that I had absolutely NOTHING to gain from listening to the thing. But I knew deep down that this unsettling obsession with their god awful single would never truly die unless I took this bull/shit by the horns and ahem LISTENED TO THE FUCK OUT OF IT. Little did I suspect the deeper philosophical implications of the endeavor that lied before me… St. Anger Normally for an album of this magnitude, I would break the thing down on a track by track analysis, and give a background of the band’s career up until the album in question, but I’ll refrain from doing such in this case for the following reasons, one; NOBODY CARES, two; I certainly don’t care, Three; I honestly don’t enjoy listening to the album enough to do so, and finally; if I were to minutely pick apart all the errors in this album I could fill fucking ENCYCLOPEDIAS. The production is what’ll really strike the average listener. In an attempt to return to the stripped down and “raw” sound that producer/surrogate bass player/general douche bag Bob Rock ironically enough KILLED on Metallica’s s/t album from ’91, Bob decided it would be best if he just didn’t mix the album and made all the equipment just sound like shit. I mean, if it was in fact Lars’ idea to have the snare sound like a giant cell-phone tower being struck with a hammer two blocks away while the kick in contrast sounds like it’s being played TWO FEET AWAY FROM YOUR EARS, then it was certainly Bob’s duty to put his contender for Douche of The Universe in check. The truly incredible part is that the listener NEVER gets used to the abysmal drum sound, despite its persistent plonging (and you KNOW something’s bad when it invents a new verb!) throughout St. Anger. “Hey, why should I make the drum levels sound different when the parts of the song change? Can’t you see I’m busy committing CAREER FUCKING SUICIDE ovah heah?” spake the Rock. The guitars are not only tuned way low, but mixed super quiet, so needless to say the bass is completely obscured in the non-mix. All you can hear is DRUMS, and VOCALS, which is fucking ABSURD because, as the cover of the CD indicates, THIS IS A FUCKING METALLICA ALBUM, and maybe it’s just me, but when you buy a FUCKING METALLICA ALBUM, you’re supposed to be able to hear the FUCKING GUITARS!!! What’s more is that, as you may have guessed, the drums and vocals are the worst fucking part! Completely ignoring Hetfield’s now-AWFUL pseudo (or is it post?)-Vedder et al. vocal style, the way which the vocals were actually recorded on the CD make them sound even WORSE, if one can imagine! Take the legitimately laughable vocal build on the opening cut “Frantic”; with each repetition of the chant “Frantic, tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tock” Hetfield’s voice goes an octave higher and higher than he’s comfortable singing, so that by the end of his ranting Hetfield’s voice sounds as pubescent as his core audience. What’s more is that on closer examination, namely by watching the accompanying DVD of the rehearsals for St. Anger where Hetfield’s vocal build DOESN’T crack like a 13 year old Phil Anselmo, it seems that Bob was the one egging him on to go for those high notes. I mean, did anyone see A Year and a Half in the Life of Metallica? Remember watching Bob twisting James’s arm to get every minute detail right for the vocal delivery on Metallica? Well, what the fuck was he doing this time? I guess he must have been too busy writing and playing bass on this piece of shit to worry about whether or not James could his a single note right. Just listen to the Bobcat Goldthwaitisms of “The Unnamed Feeling”, the G.I. Joe-cum-Hulk Hogan and The Wrestling Boot Band backup vox on “St. Anger” or the ejaculatory crooning on “Invisible Kid”, or James’ voice cracking during the dramatic yell during “All within My Hands” and tell me someone wasn’t asleep at the fucking wheel. Beyond vocal technique, though, there’re just some blatant flaws in the way Bob recorded the vocals. Again, they’re WAY too high in the mix, smothering everything else save for the abysmal drums. Also, for an album trying to sound so dirty musically, the vocals are way too clean and crisp, a stark contrast to the distorted beyond belief sound of the guitars. The most unforgivable act of Rockdom, however, is not catching the frequent microphone popping of the “T’s” on “Sweat Amber”. Not only does the last “T” in “How sweet does it get?” CLEARLY pop, but the line repeats something like eight goddamn times in the song, and what’s more is that Bob puts reverb on the syllable in question, each pop another nail in the coffin of Bob’s career. But you know, as much fun as it is to ridicule Bob for the amount of cocaine that’s somehow been rerouted to his eardrum, making him a deaf and an utterly incompetent producer, there’s not enough smoke and mirrors in the world to make the songwriting on St. Anger sound anywhere in the universe of good. Okay, so the riffs; they’re lazy, period. And what’s worse is that you can just tell the band has so much goddamn confidence that these fucking sub-teenage-numetal riffs will just tear the listeners head into frenzy. I mean, there are VERY few instances on this album of one riff going straight into another, there’s just buildup, BUILD UP B-U-I-L-D-U-P and THEN!!!! Nothing. Not a damn thing. Just another weak four-chord riff they nabbed off the cutting floor of Linkin Park’s last album. Lyrically, it can only be expected to be written at a 6th grade reading level, with the emotional development of the writer not going too far out of that age range, but these guys must have been some pretty fucking stupid 6th graders, man! Some random excerpts; “Shoot me again/I ain’t dead yet”, “Can’t you help me be uncrazy?”, “Kill, kill, kill, kill”, and of course, one of the most baffling lyric to get actual radio airplay in a LONG time “I’m madly in anger with you.” Jeezis, I’ve heard of attempting to sound intellectual, and I’ve heard of pseudo-intellectual, but these guys must be TRYING to sound pseudo-intellectual. Like, ain’t these cats something like a half a fucking century old a piece? And they’re still wrestling with thesauruses to voice their “pain”? Christ, I hope if I ever get to this state of living off of fumes of nostalgia for my youth my retrogressive trip won’t be so fucking SQUARE sounding as these assholes. And now, ladies and gentlemen, the ace up my sleeve, the nail in this termite-infested coffin; this (again) fucking METTALICA ALBUM contains-are y’all ready-NOT ONE GOD DAMNED MOTHERFUCKING GUITAR SOLO! That’s right, the band with Kirk fucking Hammitt, Lars Ulrich, and both of their small dicks, huge egos, and over-compensatory tactics contains ZERO guitar solos. I mean, this has to be, aside from aforementioned career suicide, a sign of the apocalypse or something. Not one guitar solo! Let it sink in for a second…75 minutes, 11 trax, meaning the average song length is ‘round 7 minutes, and within none of these 7 minute drowning scenes does there appear one solo of any kind. How do they fucking fill the time you ask? BY REPEATING EACH POORLY WRITTEN RIFF UNTILL YOU WANT TO MURDER YOURSELF! So like I said, as laughable as Bob Rock’s production is, there is just no saving a seven minute (never mind the occasional nine minute pummeling) solo-less song. St. Anger: Epilogue So what was I talking about way back when I alluded to some deeper philosophical lesson St. Anger has to teach us? Well listen, obviously this is a shitty CD right? I mean, anyone in their right mind wouldn’t even need to hear a Metallica album released in 2003 to guess that it’s gonna fucking suck ass. But regardless, here I am typing up this ungodly dissection of this bloated corpse of an asphyxiated child found in the city river, and whereas any rational human being would just look at this thing whose stomach is swollen with polluted city water, whose blue blood radiates through his or her (as the sex has at this point become utterly indeterminable) thin skin and say “that’s one dead-ass motherfucker”, here I gotta sit and say “yeah, but look at how fucking dead the thing is! I’m gonna go and write about the extent of which this poor fucker’s dead. Man, I can’t help thinking about how fucking dead this motherfucker is, blah, blah, blah.” The question thus changes from “what the fuck was Metallica thinking?” to “what the fuck am I thinking caring about what Metallica was thinking?” Like, what am I lacking inside myself where I gotta be not only drawn to the failure of strangers, but put in HOURS of energy in an attempt to better inform other strangers about the degree to which these poor schmucks who I’ve never met, and with whom I have no emotional engagement with, fucked up. I mean, it’s not like I’m getting paid for this shit, like I HAVE to write about shitty contemporary rock albums in order to pay my rent; this is FUN for me! And what does it say about you the reader who can sit through an approximately 3,000 word diatribe about an album which, most likely, you knew was bad before you even stumbled across this harpooned Loch Ness Monster? What is the BIG picture here? Pope Anger The thing is I’m not even a fan of Metallica’s old shit. “Those who can’t Slayer, Metallica” I’ve said on more than one occasion. What is it, then, about St. Anger that keeps drawing me back in? I guess it’s analogous to slowing down on the freeway when you see a car wreck, but a part of me tells me there must be a little something more to it than that. On many separate occasions since acquiring my copy of St. Anger I’ve had friends of mine with similar music tastes request to hear the album when they come over, one even submitting himself to a screening of the bonus DVD IN HIS OWN HOUSE nonetheless. Another poor soul even purchased the motherfucker ON VINYL! In both cases the post-St.Anger experience seemed to parallel the pre-album hype induced madness which I was stricken with not to long ago, the gist of which is, in a phrase; “this fucking thing is SO bad it won’t get out of my head!” Say what you will about St.Anger, it definitely demands one’s attention, which, if I’m not mistaken, is a working definition of (gulp) ART! It also fits the definition of another word which begins with “A”, ATROCITY, and no album comes to mind in recent years which fits both of the bills so appropriately as St.Anger. If Lou Reed had heard this shit back in ’75, I’m sure Metal Machine Music would have sounded a helluva lot different. Now quit gawking and drive, you’re holding up traffic. 9/12/03 "Beauty Pageant Liner Notes": “Faggot shit!” Jerome Petris exclaimed as his friend Duane Humous sank languidly into his bed, dragging down with him his signature machiavellian smirk and the general mood of his companion. “C’mon, they’re not that bad.” Duane said. Jerome and Duane had been spinning records in Duane’s small, but well organized room, which always seemed to be filled with sunlight, regardless of what time of day it was. For Duane and Jerome this was a fairly ritualistic activity. Jerome felt, but never spoke out loud, that for the true music obsessed person, this was church. So far in the day they had compared the mastering of the Relativity and Rat Cage pressings of Agnostic Front’s Victim In Pain, sat in reverent silence during the first side of Blue Oyster Cult’s first album, and cleared up Duane’s claim of there being no guitar on Gary Glitter’s early albums. All this, added to the regular review of the more interesting albums Duane and Jerome had acquired since they last met, was making for a fairly exciting Sunday evening, relatively speaking, of course. The transitions from album to album, with no arguments made by either party in regards to the other’s selection of music, was seamless, and free of schism, that is until Duane followed the B-side of King Crimson’s Starless and Bible Black with the Great Times EP from the Ohio group Beauty Pageant. Now Duane and Jerome saw eye to eye on most matters musically, but like most of these duos, there were minute idiosyncratic differences of taste between the two which could expand into great crevasses of spite if the mood of the room switched to one of argument, which the Beauty Pageant EP was presently doing with each revolution. “Dude, it’s straight up limey cock-sucking indie rock.” Jerome insisted. “Well, yeah, it’s indie rock, but it’s not like…I dunno, indie rock for indie rock’s sake. I mean, I get more Syd Barrett, or Velvet Underground, or just folksy psych than, like, Three Mile Pilot, or whatever. It’s obvious they know their roots, y’know?” “Yeah, but like, that one song you put on that tape for me was OBVIOUSLY biting the Smiths, which in my eyes there is no redeeming.” “Okay, yeah, there’s no denying the Morriseyisms on…Fuck, did I give you “Set My Girlfriend on Fire”, or “Playwright in Trouble”? Well anyways, in one of those same songs there’s that “knock ‘em down, John” part before the guitar solo, which is totally that Velvets song “Temptation inside Your Heart.” “But who DOESN’T rip off the Velvets? Fucking Oasis rips on the Velvets, shit man, U2 rips on the Velvets! That shit doesn’t mean anything anymore.” “Yeah, tons of bands rip on the Velvets, but few are doing it with sincerity. I mean, obviously Beauty Pageant’s not slipping in the booming floor tom on “Brave Discoverer” to take Maureen Tucker’s minimalist percussion methods to a broader commercial audience unaware of the Velvet Underground, or trying to gain some sort of underground cred. It’s like they take such subtle pieces from these groups that only a total fan could pick up on it. “Like, they have this song “Stop Giving Me Cancer” which is just chanting and vocals and clapping; totally reminiscent of the last cut on any of the early Tyrannosaurus Rex albums. Now how many people really dig that deep? Like, this is the age of owning Kick Out The Jams, Psychedelic Sounds, and Velvet Underground and Nico, namedropping appropriately, and considering yourself educated in 60s underground rock.” “No shit, huh? That’s what’s so hard about finding people to talk about music with. Like, you talk to a kid at a party the days, and it’s like they just flip through a Mojo, or what have you, and pick up enough loosely associated calories of information to rearrange as suited and talk like they know a fucking thing about the music. People look at this shit like it’s a book report for high school English; just read the Cliff’s notes, y’know, BS your way through it and get a B-. Grab a Velvet Underground best-of, MAYBE a random 60s garage comp., and there you go; your Interpol, or Radiohead, or whatever library is instantly validated in the eye of the God of Cool, or whatever. Like, ‘hey, I’m not one of those POSERS, I’ve heard “Psychotic Reaction”!’, but like, what the fuck do they have to gain, y’know? There’s no fucking grade for being a fan of music, y’know?” “Fuckin’ A, and that’s what I’m sayin’ about the Beauty Pageant. Going back to the T-Rex thing, like, if they were the Mooney Suzuki, or whatever, they would just cover “Cosmic Dancer”, or something off Electric Warrior, and they’d have their CRED, or whatever, but instead they choose to bite off “Scenes of Dynasty”, or some obscure track off Unicorn, and fuck it if no one recognizes it, y’know? And the best part is that most of the people who WOULD recognize that shit just dismiss Beauty Pageant as fag music.” Side A ended, and the arm of the record player returned to its’ perch. As Duane, impassioned by his own impromptu diatribe, sprung up to flip the record, Jerome reached across the bed to look at the picture sleeve. “Is this supposed to be a Minutemen rip off?” Jerome said cynically leering at the packaging while side B began playing. “Yeah. Like I said, they’re full of that kinda shit.” “Man, these lyrics are weak.” Jerome stabbed after speed-reading the lyrics. “I dunno, I kinda’ like ‘em.” Duane parried. “They had two songwriters. Derek Erdman wrote the more sarcastic and bitter songs, and Bobby Burg wrote the more, uh, sappy kinda whiney tunes, but I don’t think they’re that bad if you don’t take ‘em too seriously. Like I doubt Burg seriously wants people to, like, wallow in self-pity, or whatever. I think it kinda’ creates a balance, y’know? Like if it was just all those kinda’ funny and biting lyrics, not only would it get old, but it’d just be, like, straight Morrisey ass-licking, and if it was all Bobby’s songs, of course it would just be some shitty Joy Division kind of band. It’s sorta’ like a Brian Eno/Bryan Ferry thing, except I don’t think there was any fighting between the two guys.” “So who’s the one who can’t sing in key?” “Heh, neither of ‘em, I think. Yeah, they really can’t sing, but I think that adds to the charm, gives the recordings personality. They’re not some “up-and-coming” underground sensation. I mean, of course they’ve broken up by now, but even when they were around, people really didn’t embrace ‘em, and it has to do with the raw production, and shitty vocals. I honestly believe if you were to give these same songs to any tight jeaned rock-is-back kids today who have a skinny singer young girls would wanna fuck, and a bankroll to make slick sounding albums, they’d be fucking huge. The songs are good enough, and they totally could have turned the band into something, y’know, like, not commercial, but definitely something fairly well known on a national level, but instead I think they were just writing these songs because they enjoyed writing and playing them, which is always rad. “Actually, I read this thing on one of the guy’s website about how some label contacted them to put out something, and the guy said the only way he’d do it is if the label made it a 3” CD, and included a $5 bill with every one, and then he sent the label the recording, and it was just total nonsense and noise.” “$5 bill, man, that’s fucking funny…” “Yeah, those guys are great…” Suddenly the implosive burst of silence following the popping of the stylus lifting up after the runoff groove of the 2nd side of the EP ceased the conversation. Duane looked around his room and saw no one was there. The silence always reminded him he was alone. He exhaled heavily, exaggerating his mood, though he had to question who for. He stared up at the ceiling and for the first time that Sunday, instead of wondering what to play next, he tried to figure out why it was so hard to find anyone in his town who he could just talk about records with. 8/05/03 "when it rains, it pours...": CROSSROADS: RULLING fucking film! I watched it the same night as Black Knight (with Matin Lawrence), Slap Shot 2, and How High. Now THAT'S a fucking film fest! Crossroads is all about that pregnant chick with the speach impediment; "GUYSCH! We're awl friendsch, we need to schtick togejer!" Yeah, that flick's god. Unfortunately I don't have a DVD player, so the Crossroads wouldn't do me much good. Fuck, I also have to go over to Chris Painter's house to watch that Metallica bonus DVD (more work on the article to be done ASAP). Lately I've been watching a lot of TV. Ever seen Making The Band ( http://www.mtv.com/onair/makingtheband/ ), with Puff Daddy, and this band of totally untalented and retarted rappers? Thing's a fucking joke! These fuckers have, like, a long ass time to write a record, they don't have to work, they have a studio and producer in the house and they just go "clubbing" and throw dice, and shit, and puff daddy comes in and yells at them all the time: "you guys have a dream to be big actors and you're fucking up!" and you know what? HE'S FUCKING RIGHT! But the whole premise is fucked, 'cause if the band actually was successful, or whatever, the band's shit would be all over the airwaves already. And it's rediculous, 'cause he puts these people up in a house and is just like "write an album"...What the fuck??? Who couldn't do that? Fuck, man... Metal Mike's brilliant. He fucking HATES "STP not LSD" 'cause of the production, and I tell him he's a damned fool because of it. Enclosed are two of the many naked ladies he's sent me. 7/30/03 "when it rains, it pours...": fuck me, I've listened to the Cro-Mags "Before The Quarrel" (demo's for "Age Of Quarrel") like, a bajillion times! (three in a row, actually). I'm sending you some attatchments of writting I've done for my summer school English course. You get a strory of my retail experience, and a paper on the third Velvet Underground album. There's two versions of the Velvets article. Your job as editor (HA!) is to pick which one you think is best to put up on the website. The 4 page one is short, so people might actually read it, but it also says absolutely nothing original. The long ass one nobody will read (including yourself, I'm sure), but I had fun picking apart each song. I should say that the "retail" one I din't think about turning in to you 'til I got a good grade on it. The teacher said he was reading one of the parts to some film agent of his (my teacher writes screenplays. The agent guy is some bigwig. Fuck, I wish I could remember which movies he "landed", 'cause they were pretty funny) and the Hollywood guy laughed, and was impressed with my writting. I figured I might as well send it to you so as to get my big "break". HA! The Metallica review is coming. So far I got two pages (single spaced, mind you), and haven't even gotten to the album (mostly talking about Avril's performance of "Give Me Feul" on the MTV Icon show). It will be worth it, though. Fuck, I gotta LOT to work with, 'cause this album is SOOOO fucking bad! It's like beating up a goddamn cripple! I also have a half-way finished article on a mixtape I made myself of Neil Young's "Trans", Runnaways "Queens Of Noise" and the 1st Cheap Trick. That won't be done for a long time. Then the long awaited "96 Tears" article. Those should be ready before school starts again (next month) but knowing me they won't be. I've been having REALLY long yahoo-messenger conversations with Metal Mike from the Angry Samoans. That guy fucking RULES! He sends me naked pictures of girls with really big boobs and talks a lot about the astrological natal charts of Hilary Duff and his exes. He also refuses to acknowledge "STP Not LSD" as a good album. What a fool! He compares it with "Into The Unknown" from Bad Religion. Yikes. let me know if you can't view the attatchments. Feel free to edit out all the "works cited" pages and in-text citations. Later. eng100mind.doc / eng100.doc / eng100velvetssongs.doc 7/27/03 "World Piece Can't Be Dumb": here's one for your image search: http://images.google.com/images?hl=en&lr=&ie=UTF-8&oe=UTF-8&safe=off&q=magma I should take this time to state how much I LOVE my ass some Magma! Those guys fucking RULE! If you've never heard them, check out the 1975 live 2xLP. If you have song downloading capabilities, get 'De Futura' or 'Kobai' off some gay mp3 site. Holy fuck, do I love my ass some Magma! Because I'm cool I listen to Cro-Mags demos (need "Age of Quarell" on vinyl-please help!), Celtic Frost "To Mega Therion", and play Micheal Rother's "Flammende Herzen" and the "s/t" La Dusseldorf albums back to back and try to figure out why people are so fucking retarded and gay that they don't fucking RESPECT those albums as being as good as if not better than the Neu! trilogy. I mean, I love my ass some Neu!, but I can't help but wonder if Neu!'s album covers looked as square as the Micheal Rother albums if they'd get reissued as ambitiously, and on a major label, nonetheless as they are now. I mean, it's like a RULE that you have to say you like Neu!, and namedrop Can without owning any of their albums, but FUCK, man, La Dusseldorf's 1st album is Neu!75 pt. II, and I think the first Micheal Rother album, which just LOOKS like something that a poser/hipster would pass up without even giving a second thought to is even better AND has Jaki Liebezeit on fucking DRUMS! ZERO respect to the krautrock poser who namedrops Neu and Kraftwerk without even giving "Flammende Herzen" a chance. PERFECT FUCKING ALBUM! BETTER THAN NEU! (maybe. That's actually what I'm trying to figure out.) Also, "Autobahn" was not the first Kraftwerk album, you gay ass fuckwads! Kraftwerk 1 is hard like Ash Ra Tempel's 1st! FUCK! I want my band to write a song as good as Cro-Mags "Malfunction", but it'll never happen. I dreamt I was hanging out with Beyonce and her friends, and something came up where we had some time alone and all I did was talk to her about her new album. There was also prostitutes running around the streets without clothes. I felt really gay because I was surrounded by naked women, and talking to Beyonce Knowls, and all I did was ask her "so what role exactly did Missy Elliot have as producer? Who sampled the beat for 'Crazy In Love', etc." Fucky fucky fuck fuck that new Metallica is god awful! Honestly, it's too much to take. Fucking 75 minutes of Metallica with no guitar solos? Fucking SHOOT ME! That drum sound is too much! Fuck, will write a novel on how bad that album is one day. I'll be sending you some papers I've been writting for summer school soon. I'm writting my second paper on the "s/t" Velvet Underground album now, and I'm sweatin' it, 'cause it's looking like it's gonna be 'round 10-12 pages long, and the assignment is for 6-8 pages. Fuck me. July 2003a: 7/10/03 "New Metallica " holy shit, all I've been able to think about all day is that new Metallica single. The thing's so god awful it's a masterpiece. I don't think since "Metal Machine Music" has an established pop artist deliberately put out something that sounds that shitty! Granted, I've only heard their single on the TV, but FUCK, fucking HORRIBLE, beyond just regular bad. Like, to get a recording that bad you have to TRY. You don't just be METALLICA, and have BOB ROCK produce your goddamn album and then release the thing and "oops, hey guys WE FORGOT TO FUCKING MIX THIS THING!!!" I'm not gonna go as far as to say 'avant garde', but DAMN, it's really an accomplishment to get a song with that wretched of production on the airwaves! The video is perfect, too. Like, what the hell are these guys going for? Derek, I really need this album, but there's no way I'm gonna pay for it. If you have any promo copies at your work, or anyone you know wants to make a donation....I'll even borrow the thing for a month just to write a review on it, and send it back. I need to see the layout, and all that, so a simple CDR won't do, but I'll settle for that if it's the best that can be done. Derek, I really wanna hear this album, but no one I know has the balls to buy it. If you know anyone who can help, it'd be solid as fuck! You rule dude. Later. Oh, I posted a "what's your favorite Bruford era King Crimson album from the 70s" poll on Hilaryfan.com. So far "Larks' Toungue in Aspic" is winning by 100%! 7/10/03 "CHIT" forgot to attatch those files 7/10/03 "welcome back" glad those NY Jews didn't keep you for too long. The girl with no boobs looked pretty cute for a 15 year old boy. Lately I've been not sleeping, listening to UFO's 1st album (I say if Blue Cheer's "Vincebus Eruptum" is a 10 on the LOUD meter, UFO's 1st is an 8.5. "Ramones" would be about a 7, or 7.5, and "White Light/White Heat" would be about 10, or maybe 10.5 [if you only pay attention to the 2nd side, like I do]), Beauty Pageant, and Roky Erickson A LOT. I wake up to the "casting the runes" live CD, and usually go to sleep reading Roky lyrics. I'm in love. XXX It's 4:00am and I have to wake up at five. I'm just staying up all night. Chris and a guy with a really low voice came over. He made pancakes, and we watched Warriors. I read the interview you did with him. My favorite part was when you asked what he thought of Integrity, and he was like "it's a great thing". You can guess what would happen if you asked me the same question. That interview looked like fun, though. I'd like to do one. XXX 7/6/03 "hey cool guy" 1)my dad was having a party for some of his late 20s alcoholic friends (he's in his 40s, but can't hang out with people his own age 'cause he's brain damaged) and I was playing the Beauty Pageant CD. A really tall blonde girl said it reminded her of the Dead Milkmen (the song was 'set my girlfriend on fire') 2)my dad says I make "gay poses" for pictures 3)my girlfriend sent me these pictures of her with a cap gun. Vavavavoom. 7/4/03 "re: it's like that (and that's the way it's like)" my mom it is, and I SORTA gave her the screen name. We first got the internet when I was in middle school, and I'd scour the Relapse mailorder catalog religiously (this would be around '95). My favorite thing was the Mayhem album "Deathcrush". I fucking loved that name, but I had their other CD (the one in latin), and I was BARELY feeling it at the time, and "Deathcrush" had a huge import price, so I never ordered it. The name never escaped me, though (I was a BIG Gwar fan, so it kinda fell under that asthete) and when we first got the internet and we needed a fake name I was like "Deathcrush! Uh...ODIN Deathcrush!" just 'cause it sounded good. My mom liked it, and when she lived in the states she sorta' "made a name for herself" in the on-line toy collecting community (that's her thing, toy collecting, mostly My Little Pony, I think Strawberry Shortcake, Jem, shit like that. Her boyfriend is into boys stuff, like Battle Beasts, and M.A.S.K.) and when she moved to Canada, where her now-boyfriend lives, like, 4 years ago, she just took the name with her since she had so many "on-line friends" who knew her by that name, I guess. Side note to the screen name story: since my mom and her boyfriend met online, sometimes they refer to eachother by their screen names, but in a babbified way. My mom's is Odin Deathcrush, and her boyfriend calls her "odie", and his name is Rot N Hell, and she calls him "Rottle". Is my mom a kook? Well, aside from owning about six Flying Luttenbachers CDS (I was wearing their tshirt yesterday, which you need to know) she's around 40 and has a Sick of It All tatoo on her ankle, just 'cause she liked the design. I'll let you make the call on that one thanks for the kind words on the Crime Desire demo. Our bass player is moving to New York for no reason at all, so we're out a bass player. We need to find a new one, which'll be tough, 'cause we want the guy/gurl to be INTO hardcore, as you and I know it, but also be able to hear me say "okay, now we need a sorta' Hawkwind style bass line right here" and act accordingly. Plus 3/4 of Crime Desire is straight edge (the bass player guy was the stoner) so a non druggie/alkie would just be more convenient for touring, and stuff, though in lots of ways a non-sxe is preferable in that for some reason most people need drugs to have interesting music ideas. So if you know anyone who wants to be in a hardcore band who lifts riffs from King Crimson (there's a part in the into that's totally ripped from "The Singing Drum" off the 2nd best KC album "Larks Toungue..." speaking of which, if you have the "Earthbound" live release, please get in touch) and lives in the San-Diego region, or is moving here soon, please let us know. Maybe you could post this on your website, or something? He-he. Alright, brother. Listen to the recently released Heartattack discography (it's called "The Last War-'80-'84". Hardcore with blastbeats from that era. They have a song called 'English Cunts' which needs to be heard. It's funny, though, 'cause I think their drumming style borrows from The Damned, a'la the song 'Stab Your Back'). Take care, and have fun. July 2003b: Here's a recent e-mail from Colin Tappe. It's pretty much brilliant. here's a good AIM conversation between me an my mom Odindeathcrush is my mom Jestine is my girlfriend Mano is my mom's mom Corina was my 1st (really bad) relationship we were talking about a Germs bootleg kinda before it all starts you won't read this anyways. Colin Tappe: there's been, like, 3 minutes of no music odindeathcrush: when in doubt always reboot Colin Tappe: all these fake starts and everything odindeathcrush: no music...?? Colin Tappe: yeah odindeathcrush: oh...ycuk Colin Tappe: like, tuning and stuff odindeathcrush: great Colin Tappe: I guess it's amusing Colin Tappe: as an honest document, or something odindeathcrush: maybe you caould hear them go to the bathroom if you are really lucky Colin Tappe: hey odindeathcrush: sound boring to me Colin Tappe: do you think people seek out sexually what their parents were like, and personality wise what they lacked from their parents? Colin Tappe: Like Colin Tappe: I was talking to Jestine about this odindeathcrush: sexually? um... odindeathcrush: hurmm... Colin Tappe: and she said that there was no way Freud was right about wanting to fuck your mom/dad (respectively, depending on your gender) odindeathcrush: maybe what they perceived them to be like...but unless they had sex with their parents they wouldn't know Colin Tappe: and I pointed out that her dad was a real dominating person in her life Colin Tappe: like odindeathcrush: i agree with her idea of the wanting to fuck your parents...cuz that is just icky Colin Tappe: a super strict disciplinarian, etc. odindeathcrush: but i do know people do seek out others who they can repeat the parental experience with Colin Tappe: and she's really submissive in the sack Colin Tappe: not, like, a weak girl Colin Tappe: but she just prefers to be "dominated" if you will odindeathcrush: uh...i don't think that has to do with her dad odindeathcrush: it's just her preference Colin Tappe: well Colin Tappe: I also pointed out odindeathcrush: lots of girls like to be dominated odindeathcrush: lots of guys like to be dominated Colin Tappe: that I like being treated very softly odindeathcrush: it's a giveing up of control Colin Tappe: gently, and maternal like odindeathcrush: hey hey hey! and i'm a cruel harsh person right? Colin Tappe: I also enjoy getting a certain... Colin Tappe: vindication odindeathcrush: blasphemer! Colin Tappe: no odindeathcrush: lol Colin Tappe: we're getting there Colin Tappe: like Colin Tappe: I like, uh... Colin Tappe: well Colin Tappe: KNOWING Colin Tappe: hearing, if you will Colin Tappe: that I'm "doing a good job" Colin Tappe: if you catch my drift odindeathcrush: vindication....ahhhhhh....well that is normal too Colin Tappe: sort of like Colin Tappe: well odindeathcrush: i mean i don't think it has anything to do with your parents odindeathcrush: it's just your way Colin Tappe: you've always been super supportive of my work, and stuff odindeathcrush: no hell kai...i am a meanie i know it.... odindeathcrush: i was just joking..sorta... Colin Tappe: and so I need that from a girl odindeathcrush: i'm no day at the beac h Colin Tappe: fuck, man, we're working on that Colin Tappe: I mean Colin Tappe: there was abuse, and all that, so supposedly i'd want to be dominated in bed and all that, according to my theory Colin Tappe: but the truth is, that at the end of the day you were super maternal, like odindeathcrush: ha. right...so there goes that theory Colin Tappe: a traditional sort of mom Colin Tappe: in that you did genuinely care/love, y'know? Colin Tappe: and I need to get that feeling when I have sex Colin Tappe: I seek it out odindeathcrush: i see where you are going...and you have something there indeed.... Colin Tappe: I need, like, coddling and all that Colin Tappe: however odindeathcrush: but mostly that is related to emo style odindeathcrush: not so much blatently your sexual likes Colin Tappe: oh, and also being treated like a little kid odindeathcrush: but emo style has everythign to do with sexual style Colin Tappe: baby talk and all that Colin Tappe: it's sickening odindeathcrush: ewwww! lol.... odindeathcrush: well don't let that get around...lol odindeathcrush: KIDDING! Colin Tappe: the second part of my thesis statement Colin Tappe: was that we seek out what our parents WEREN'T in parents odindeathcrush: hrummm...that could go either way Colin Tappe: and in Jestine's case, she really likes me because I'm super suportive, and like, never yell at her or anything odindeathcrush: you could want to NOT be like your parents in many ways and over compensate Colin Tappe: she spilled salsa on the bed one day and was downright flabbergasted that I didn't "scold" her, or something odindeathcrush: lol....lke you would get pissed at a mess, lol odindeathcrush: uh...how long has she known you? odindeathcrush: it's not like she scratched one of your albums odindeathcrush: lol odindeathcrush: the general concensus is that people recreate their parental memories in order to be able to fix what they couldn't fix the first go round odindeathcrush: seek out people either exactly like their parent...or the exact opposite Colin Tappe: I'm saying we seek out what we needed that wasn't there from our parents odindeathcrush: or become just like their parent (to again fix something) or become the exact opposite odindeathcrush: yeah i hear you....but odindeathcrush: that is a form of fixing the situation Colin Tappe: In my case, even though at the end of the day there was maternal caring and stuff, I had to stand on my own a lot, and look out for myself a lot Colin Tappe: which is good Colin Tappe: It's a good quality in a person odindeathcrush: most are not enlightened enough to know what to look for odindeathcrush: but you picked carina the first go round Colin Tappe: but there's also this side of me that wasn't that apparent that needed to be totally coddled Colin Tappe: (no, she picked ME) odindeathcrush: you recreated as fucked up an environment as you could Colin Tappe: (we'll fucking get to that shit, jeezis) Colin Tappe: anyhoo odindeathcrush: lol.... Colin Tappe: Jestine's a total coddler Colin Tappe: she fucking DRESSED me today, for christ sakes odindeathcrush: lol Colin Tappe: put on my pants and shirt for me Colin Tappe: no lie odindeathcrush: hey is mano still home??? Colin Tappe: she has that, like, maternal drive, and that's why it works so well odindeathcrush: when is she leaving...i need to talk to her importante Colin Tappe: for fucks sake are you capable of following a goddamn conversation? Colin Tappe: I'm trying to make a point here! odindeathcrush: and...i am odindeathcrush: following...and i'm following your point odindeathcrush: but i have thoughts too ya know odindeathcrush: go on... Colin Tappe: yeah, but I can't make that point with all these interjections Colin Tappe: anyhoo Colin Tappe: shit Colin Tappe: yeah odindeathcrush: lol Colin Tappe: she seeks out in me PERSONALITY wise the opposite of her dad Colin Tappe: while sexually, it's the same traits Colin Tappe: my claim is that it comes from the fact that sexuality is more primitive than our intrapersonal relationships odindeathcrush: well i'm only thinking of me and my perception of my mom and dad and i can't make the connection you are making with me Colin Tappe: we want what we can't really question, cause we're not necessarily aware of it odindeathcrush: i'd have to ponder on this for a bit Colin Tappe: it's like, if we REALIZED that we're fucking like our parents would wanna fuck us, it'd probably creep us out odindeathcrush: so you say we repeat who we thought our parents style was? odindeathcrush: yes it would Colin Tappe: it's too subconscious, though Colin Tappe: well, I imagine if we were fucking you'd treat me very gently and maternal Colin Tappe: if Jestine was fucking her dad, he'd probably be totally dominating Colin Tappe: even if that's not how they'd fuck their respective mates Colin Tappe: it's how they'd probably fuck their kids, 'cause that's how the relationship was like odindeathcrush: and the reality is i like to be dominated...and my dad was as passive as milk Colin Tappe: I'd imagine all the chicks who like to "be on top" and dominate probably had wimpy dads odindeathcrush: very non dominating....tho mano....she was as ice queen-ly as you could get, both emotionally and physically Colin Tappe: well, shit, there goes my theory odindeathcrush: well i'm only one person Colin Tappe: but mano was more of your father figure than your dad was, no? odindeathcrush: scientifically....you would need more analysis odindeathcrush: and yeah..sorta, but not really...my dad odindeathcrush: was always in the picture... Colin Tappe: there's no way to analyze this stuff other than case studies odindeathcrush: tho i see where you are going Colin Tappe: a'la Freud odindeathcrush: well this is a great conversation starter...lol Colin Tappe: but people don't take him seriously anymore odindeathcrush: people didn't take him seriously back then either.... odindeathcrush: but there is an essence of genius in crazy Colin Tappe: like anyone's gonna take modern psychoanalysis seriously in 200 years Colin Tappe: yeah, but he was a good writter, and he was the first, so his shit endured Colin Tappe: style over scientific substance odindeathcrush: er...well, in my book he had stuff to say....he just said it wrongly odindeathcrush: substance over style odindeathcrush: his style is what turned most people off odindeathcrush: in my op Colin Tappe: as for the Corina situation Colin Tappe: I'm just conditioned to survive abusive situations Colin Tappe: doesn't necessarily mean I WANT them Colin Tappe: seek them out, per se Colin Tappe: Jestine treats me like a queen odindeathcrush: i think you got stuck in a situation you didn't know how to get out of Colin Tappe: and that's why it works, on a real level, not just...continues odindeathcrush: you knew it was wrong but you cared about her welfare as well Colin Tappe: word May 2003: Colin Tappe sends me mean e-mails. here's my new article. If you can't view the atachment then you should first stop sucking so much cock, and then let me know and I'll just straight up e-mail it to 'ya. In the other room there are five CDs which have been on random for about 15 hours now: two John Cale solo CDs, La Dusseldorf's "Viva", Can's "Soundtracks" and a Beauty Pageant CD. Word. My girlfriend can be quoted as saying, in reference to The Beauty Pageant "put on that wimpy indie rock CD, I liked it!". He-he. And so do I.