What the hell has happened to Korn? It's just been announced that they are to headline Day 1 of the Dubai Desert Rock Festival next year. Hang on, that's surely a good thing you must be thinking. An iconic band who spawned ranks of imitators, and indeed, an entire musical movement should be awarded for their prowess in the musical field and have suitable accolades bestowed upon them.
BULLSHIT! Korn have been on a slippery slope down the slide of mediocrity ever since Brian 'Head' Welch gave up the crystal meth, realised that he loved Jesus instead of three chord, bouncy nu-metal riffs, grew an impressive amount of facial fuzz and jumped ship to live in a commune, dedicating his life to ol' JC. And he even wrote a book, pretty much with the same title as the line above. In the words of Al Gore, he's super serial.
This was quite a shock to the rock world at the time, as Welch, with his boundless energy and love for hard partying wasn't the ideal candidate for a life of humbleness and prayer, but there you go. Anyway, the point is that ever since he, and his considerable talent quit, Korn have quite franky, sucked balls. Their last two releases; 'See You On The Other Side' and 'Untitled' were both mundane in the extreme, the creative spark that inspired so many back in 1996, had finally flickered out.
And don't get me started on their live performances. As 'professional' as they may appear. There is now only three members of the original band (the drummer is out with exhaustion apparently) and five 'backing members' who are forced to stay in the wings of the stage and wear masks! Quite simply, Korn just aren't a band anymore. They're a faded dream desperately trying to cling onto the glory days of old, and giving them a headline slot will only further inflate their egos and lead them further down the path of disillusionment (Christ I sound like Head) that they've been treading for far too long. So Korn, please, quit while you still have some dignity left.
Sunday, 9 December 2007
Saturday, 8 December 2007
Why is Kerrang! so Kerrap?
As you may have noticed while casting your eyes over my page of deranged ramblings, I have a problem with Kerrrang! magazine. It started off as a minor irritation, but now it has blossomed into a full scale issue epidemic, so much that I wonder why I even bother to read and buy the thing anymore.
I started reading Kerrang! about seven years ago, when I first became interested in rock music. While round at a mate's house, looking sullenly out from under my hoodie, nodding along to Fred Durst ranting away about how nobody loves him, I picked up the magazine out of boredom, and immediately became engrossed in a whole brave new world of rock. I didn't know that this kind of thing existed! It was brilliant, there were all these other bands on the pages who I'd never heard of, but by God did they look cool, with their baggy jeans and long hair. "I want to listen to these bands" I thought to myself. "I've found my true calling and this glorious magazine is going to show me the way!"
So I began buying it every week, counting down the days till it came out so I could get my fill of all that was happening in the metal world that week. At the start it was brilliant, as all the main bands featured were ones I liked, and the smaller ones I soon got into, even though they were given such little coverage. That's when the problem started. As I got older, my tastes changed, and so did the magazine. The only problem was, they went in completely the opposite direction. Kerrang! continued to put the same old boring mainstream bands on the front cover, where reading the article only confirmed my belief that the band in question were boring musically, and had nothing to say for themselves. Surprise surprise!
I got more and more into the heavier side of things, scouring the album section for the most brutal and nasty sounding recordings on offer. My CD collection increased ad infinitum, helped along the way by a couple of more underground metal monthlies I had began to pick up. Yet I still kept buying Kerrang! even though I normally read about ten pages of the thing, I couldn't break the habit. This continues to this day. Sometimes I feel downright ashamed to walk to the counter with a big picture of My Chemical Romance staring out, all doey eyed and 'feel-my-inner-pain'. I get home and sift through the crap, read one article, two reviews and end up feeling like I've just been cheated.
A recent case in point is their inclusion, three weeks back of yet another '100 Greatest Gigs Ever'. Only this time it was a list compiled by readers. On Myspace. The resulting countdown turned out to be one of the most infuriating things I have ever had to endure reading. Of the 100 gigs, over 50 of them occured within the past three years. How a Paramore gig got rated 30 places higher than the first ever At The Drive In gig in Camden Barfly is beyond me. Or may'be it's because the voters have an average age of 14, and have only ever been to two gigs before in their life (the other being Gareth Gates), with Daddy watching their every move to ensure that they're home for bed at 10pm and that the band don't say a naughty word.
I have nothing against these kids getting into rock music, but Kerrang!, I beg you, please remember that the magazine is for THE FANS, not teenyboppers only into it because it's cool to be an emo at the moment. So come on, pull your head out of Fall Out Boy's arse, forget you ever heard the words 'Plain White T's' and put some real metal back in the mag. Otherwise, THE FANS will just keep deserting you in droves, as the teenyboppers will when alternative music goes out of fashion again in 6 months. It's not too late to change, so please consider it.
I started reading Kerrang! about seven years ago, when I first became interested in rock music. While round at a mate's house, looking sullenly out from under my hoodie, nodding along to Fred Durst ranting away about how nobody loves him, I picked up the magazine out of boredom, and immediately became engrossed in a whole brave new world of rock. I didn't know that this kind of thing existed! It was brilliant, there were all these other bands on the pages who I'd never heard of, but by God did they look cool, with their baggy jeans and long hair. "I want to listen to these bands" I thought to myself. "I've found my true calling and this glorious magazine is going to show me the way!"
So I began buying it every week, counting down the days till it came out so I could get my fill of all that was happening in the metal world that week. At the start it was brilliant, as all the main bands featured were ones I liked, and the smaller ones I soon got into, even though they were given such little coverage. That's when the problem started. As I got older, my tastes changed, and so did the magazine. The only problem was, they went in completely the opposite direction. Kerrang! continued to put the same old boring mainstream bands on the front cover, where reading the article only confirmed my belief that the band in question were boring musically, and had nothing to say for themselves. Surprise surprise!
I got more and more into the heavier side of things, scouring the album section for the most brutal and nasty sounding recordings on offer. My CD collection increased ad infinitum, helped along the way by a couple of more underground metal monthlies I had began to pick up. Yet I still kept buying Kerrang! even though I normally read about ten pages of the thing, I couldn't break the habit. This continues to this day. Sometimes I feel downright ashamed to walk to the counter with a big picture of My Chemical Romance staring out, all doey eyed and 'feel-my-inner-pain'. I get home and sift through the crap, read one article, two reviews and end up feeling like I've just been cheated.
A recent case in point is their inclusion, three weeks back of yet another '100 Greatest Gigs Ever'. Only this time it was a list compiled by readers. On Myspace. The resulting countdown turned out to be one of the most infuriating things I have ever had to endure reading. Of the 100 gigs, over 50 of them occured within the past three years. How a Paramore gig got rated 30 places higher than the first ever At The Drive In gig in Camden Barfly is beyond me. Or may'be it's because the voters have an average age of 14, and have only ever been to two gigs before in their life (the other being Gareth Gates), with Daddy watching their every move to ensure that they're home for bed at 10pm and that the band don't say a naughty word.
I have nothing against these kids getting into rock music, but Kerrang!, I beg you, please remember that the magazine is for THE FANS, not teenyboppers only into it because it's cool to be an emo at the moment. So come on, pull your head out of Fall Out Boy's arse, forget you ever heard the words 'Plain White T's' and put some real metal back in the mag. Otherwise, THE FANS will just keep deserting you in droves, as the teenyboppers will when alternative music goes out of fashion again in 6 months. It's not too late to change, so please consider it.
3rd time sucky?
The phrase 'difficult third album' should be familiar to anyone who has ever been in a band that has actually got anywhere with their music. It can be a real 'make or break' time for established artists, with this being their big chance to break into the mainstream (or at least the upper leagues of their selected genre) or falling flat on their smug faces, disappearing into obscurity and leaving their few remaining fans who didn't hate the abortion passing as a third album to moan about it to their mates, who couldn't give a shit either way.
The process of making a name for yourself as a group begins on the toilet circuit. You will have to play a lot of tiny, empty, foul smelling dives until word gets round that you've got talent. If this happens, (you actually need talent for this, it's not like going on the X Factor) people will start turning up to your gigs, and probably look like they're enjoying it. You gain a bit more profile, perhaps record a demo on the cheap in your mate's living room, then head down back to London again in the hope of getting signed. Word travels far when it comes to music, and when you stagger off stage at the end of your set with the crowd still screaming your name, drenched in sweat, some grinning fat cat from a mega huge, mega rich, mega important record company turns up and offers you a record deal. How cool is that?
Your first album is the dogs bollocks. All your knew found fans can't get enough of you, tours to decent sized clubs are booked (you have an agent for chrissakes!), you jet all over the world, playing to thousands of fans, endulge in some debauched behaviour with some groupies and are more or less on your way to becoming a big star. Repeat again for album Number 2, only times it by 10 and you're somewhere there. It's amazing, you can't believe how awesome this is. You're on the front cover of Kerrang!, may'be even NME! How could things go wrong?
Here we come to the 'difficult third album.' By this stage you're burnt out from touring the world for the past three years, you've realised that it wasn't just the smell of the drummer you hated, it's everything about him, and the pressure's really on to keep on top of the pile. So you begin work on your third album, and there are three main things that can happen.
1. Your album is a complete success in every way possible. It's the greatest thing you've ever heard, it blows the fans, the critics and the doubters away, future stardom is assured, you're on cloud nine, everything goes into overdrive and your're made for life. You didn't sacrifice any artistic integrity for this album, yet it connected with the mainstream. What a brilliant result! (See: Metallica - 'Master of Puppets')
2. Your third effort is a terribly over-produced, trend following, poorly written, half-arsed, abomination. The executives wearing Armani suits at the meeting you went to in the really plush office told you to make your music more accessible "So it'll get on Radio 1". You've become so convinced of your awesomeness, so you follow their 'advice' without question. It comes out with plenty of fanfare, borderline hysteria, critics rush to come and praise you as gods, listen to the album... and say; "This is absolutely fucking awful! What happened?" You're shellshocked at this proclamation. You slam the critics, you tour your arses off, but you cry every night when you go to sleep in your seperate tour buses because the boos are still ringing in your ears. (See: Trivium - 'The Crusade')
3. After building a reputation as one of the biggest and best bands in the world, with your first two albums being heralded as pinnacles of excellence, you're thinking; "How can I better this? May'be I can do something different?" So you record an album equally as awesome as anything you've ever imagined. This album is heralded as the tenth wonder of the world by your scene, but the mainstream press reject it. And the thing is, you don't care, because the last thing you ever wanted to be was a rock star. You wanted to make music for yourself, not for the radio, so you recorded a big 'Fuck You' to the mainstream, stuck to your guns and became heroes in your own right. Integrity is you. (See: Pantera - 'Far Beyond Driven)
The process of making a name for yourself as a group begins on the toilet circuit. You will have to play a lot of tiny, empty, foul smelling dives until word gets round that you've got talent. If this happens, (you actually need talent for this, it's not like going on the X Factor) people will start turning up to your gigs, and probably look like they're enjoying it. You gain a bit more profile, perhaps record a demo on the cheap in your mate's living room, then head down back to London again in the hope of getting signed. Word travels far when it comes to music, and when you stagger off stage at the end of your set with the crowd still screaming your name, drenched in sweat, some grinning fat cat from a mega huge, mega rich, mega important record company turns up and offers you a record deal. How cool is that?
Your first album is the dogs bollocks. All your knew found fans can't get enough of you, tours to decent sized clubs are booked (you have an agent for chrissakes!), you jet all over the world, playing to thousands of fans, endulge in some debauched behaviour with some groupies and are more or less on your way to becoming a big star. Repeat again for album Number 2, only times it by 10 and you're somewhere there. It's amazing, you can't believe how awesome this is. You're on the front cover of Kerrang!, may'be even NME! How could things go wrong?
Here we come to the 'difficult third album.' By this stage you're burnt out from touring the world for the past three years, you've realised that it wasn't just the smell of the drummer you hated, it's everything about him, and the pressure's really on to keep on top of the pile. So you begin work on your third album, and there are three main things that can happen.
1. Your album is a complete success in every way possible. It's the greatest thing you've ever heard, it blows the fans, the critics and the doubters away, future stardom is assured, you're on cloud nine, everything goes into overdrive and your're made for life. You didn't sacrifice any artistic integrity for this album, yet it connected with the mainstream. What a brilliant result! (See: Metallica - 'Master of Puppets')
2. Your third effort is a terribly over-produced, trend following, poorly written, half-arsed, abomination. The executives wearing Armani suits at the meeting you went to in the really plush office told you to make your music more accessible "So it'll get on Radio 1". You've become so convinced of your awesomeness, so you follow their 'advice' without question. It comes out with plenty of fanfare, borderline hysteria, critics rush to come and praise you as gods, listen to the album... and say; "This is absolutely fucking awful! What happened?" You're shellshocked at this proclamation. You slam the critics, you tour your arses off, but you cry every night when you go to sleep in your seperate tour buses because the boos are still ringing in your ears. (See: Trivium - 'The Crusade')
3. After building a reputation as one of the biggest and best bands in the world, with your first two albums being heralded as pinnacles of excellence, you're thinking; "How can I better this? May'be I can do something different?" So you record an album equally as awesome as anything you've ever imagined. This album is heralded as the tenth wonder of the world by your scene, but the mainstream press reject it. And the thing is, you don't care, because the last thing you ever wanted to be was a rock star. You wanted to make music for yourself, not for the radio, so you recorded a big 'Fuck You' to the mainstream, stuck to your guns and became heroes in your own right. Integrity is you. (See: Pantera - 'Far Beyond Driven)
Monday, 3 December 2007
Generic Top 10
I see today that several magazines and webzines such as Decibel have released a list of their Top 10 albums of 2007. This is nothing new, it has been an annual feature in pretty much every music magazine in existence. However, whenever I look at these compilations I normally have to fight back a rising sense of irritation that sometimes results in me shouting, swearing, and hurling the mag in question away from me with all my might, so repulsed am I by what I've read. And of course, getting ordered off the bus for 'making a scene.'
What irritates me so much about these Magazine's Top 20 Albums of the Year, is they very rarely correspond with what was said about the albums in question in previous months, when first reviewed. And this can work both ways. Albums that in March were given 6/10 and described as 'an average return to form' can easily appear in the Top 5 of any end of year list, normally because the band is newsworthy due to the millionaire lead singer shacking up with Tinseltown bimbo .47 or more often than not, because the journalist cannot remember the 'awe inspiring' underground progressive death metallers who he awarded full marks to earlier in the year! "Who? Well they can't be that good! They're not in the charts!"
So many quality underground releases are completely ignored come Christmas time, primarily so the magazine won't have to fend off a sled of accusations along the lines of "If all these extreme metal acts are your best albums of the year, why have they only ever been given half a page of coverage?" The kind of accusations I find myself screaming at the glossy pages of Kerrang! (the main offender by miles) when it informs me that the creme de la creme of the past twelve months of metal are releases by My Chemical Romance, Fall Out Boy, Panic at the Disco, Lostprophets and Foo Fighters. Sometimes even if they haven't got an album out.
So beware when skimming down the miles of lists that will inevitably pop up like an out of control whack-a-mole game over the next few weeks. They will most likely be lies that make Baby Satan cry. Here, to get in on the act, is my 2007 Top 5.
1. As I Lay Dying - 'An Ocean Between Us'
2. Electric Wizard - 'Witchcult Today'
3. Down - 'III Over The Under'
4. Job For A Cowboy - 'Genesis'
5. The Dillinger Escape Plan - 'Ire Works'
Go out and buy all of these albums immediately. I'll be paying attention to the incoming lists, wonder how accuarte I'll be?
What irritates me so much about these Magazine's Top 20 Albums of the Year, is they very rarely correspond with what was said about the albums in question in previous months, when first reviewed. And this can work both ways. Albums that in March were given 6/10 and described as 'an average return to form' can easily appear in the Top 5 of any end of year list, normally because the band is newsworthy due to the millionaire lead singer shacking up with Tinseltown bimbo .47 or more often than not, because the journalist cannot remember the 'awe inspiring' underground progressive death metallers who he awarded full marks to earlier in the year! "Who? Well they can't be that good! They're not in the charts!"
So many quality underground releases are completely ignored come Christmas time, primarily so the magazine won't have to fend off a sled of accusations along the lines of "If all these extreme metal acts are your best albums of the year, why have they only ever been given half a page of coverage?" The kind of accusations I find myself screaming at the glossy pages of Kerrang! (the main offender by miles) when it informs me that the creme de la creme of the past twelve months of metal are releases by My Chemical Romance, Fall Out Boy, Panic at the Disco, Lostprophets and Foo Fighters. Sometimes even if they haven't got an album out.
So beware when skimming down the miles of lists that will inevitably pop up like an out of control whack-a-mole game over the next few weeks. They will most likely be lies that make Baby Satan cry. Here, to get in on the act, is my 2007 Top 5.
1. As I Lay Dying - 'An Ocean Between Us'
2. Electric Wizard - 'Witchcult Today'
3. Down - 'III Over The Under'
4. Job For A Cowboy - 'Genesis'
5. The Dillinger Escape Plan - 'Ire Works'
Go out and buy all of these albums immediately. I'll be paying attention to the incoming lists, wonder how accuarte I'll be?
Thursday, 29 November 2007
Why do you do this to me?
Recently, my thirst for news of all things Metal has been unquenchable, like a camel at a Guinness Brewery. I spent any spare time I have reading rock rags, sharing stories of upcoming album dates and tours with long-haired buddies, and surfing the web in an attempt to catch up with the latest news and stories from the world of metal, of which I am a fully paid-up, card carrying member. Or at least I would be should such officialdom exist.
On the vast majority of zines, fan pages, news sites and online mags, there is the option to become a member and with it, the option to comment on feature items, perhaps strike up a debate with other enthusiasts. Great! I thought. What better way to keep up with the scene, and also to add my own pearls of wisdom. Everyone likes to chip in don't they? I'm not a big fan of online social networking, although I do spend too much time on Facebook catching up with mates back home, but I have no desire to talk to people I don't know online, unless it's of worth. Like this blog for example.
So I was all set to stick my oar in, when I actually started to read some of the posts people had been leaving. And I wish I hadn't. I scrolled through page after page of the most hostile, brain-dead comments I've ever had the misfortune to read, mainly along the lines of "That band's fucking shit. I hate those lame faggots. They're generic and unoriginal and only pricks like them!" Endless accounts of why people don't like bands. How interesting and insightful!
Well no. It's not. In fact, it's pathetic. Now I know I am easily open to accusations of hypocrisy on this subject given the fact I like to rant about things. But always within reason. I dislike certain bands and aspects of the metal scene, but I don't hate for hate's sake, like some of the morons who post on Blabbermouth and Metal News. When did our scene become so fragmented? Aren't we supposed to stick together? While these may be fanciful notions on my part, they certainly have no place with the bickering, back-biting, juvenile mud-slinging, yet always anonymous posters I encountered online. I lost count of how many misspelt diatribes against any band who've ever sold more than 20 records there were, normally signed off with some salutation to kvlt black metal bands, a scene with notorious fascist links. And don't get me started on the frenzied, ranting rascist, sexist and homophobic messages that cropped up depressingly far too often.
This kind of thing belongs in the dark ages. Actually, it doesn't belong anywhere. It makes me sick to my stomach to think that some of the main voices from 'fans' come from bitter, sexually frustrated little idiots sat typing away in their parents' basements. People with no friends who are angry at the world. May'be they should be pitied? Or perhaps they should be beaten round the head with their sticky keyboards until they promise not to clog up the internet with shit from their polluted minds. It's your call.
On the vast majority of zines, fan pages, news sites and online mags, there is the option to become a member and with it, the option to comment on feature items, perhaps strike up a debate with other enthusiasts. Great! I thought. What better way to keep up with the scene, and also to add my own pearls of wisdom. Everyone likes to chip in don't they? I'm not a big fan of online social networking, although I do spend too much time on Facebook catching up with mates back home, but I have no desire to talk to people I don't know online, unless it's of worth. Like this blog for example.
So I was all set to stick my oar in, when I actually started to read some of the posts people had been leaving. And I wish I hadn't. I scrolled through page after page of the most hostile, brain-dead comments I've ever had the misfortune to read, mainly along the lines of "That band's fucking shit. I hate those lame faggots. They're generic and unoriginal and only pricks like them!" Endless accounts of why people don't like bands. How interesting and insightful!
Well no. It's not. In fact, it's pathetic. Now I know I am easily open to accusations of hypocrisy on this subject given the fact I like to rant about things. But always within reason. I dislike certain bands and aspects of the metal scene, but I don't hate for hate's sake, like some of the morons who post on Blabbermouth and Metal News. When did our scene become so fragmented? Aren't we supposed to stick together? While these may be fanciful notions on my part, they certainly have no place with the bickering, back-biting, juvenile mud-slinging, yet always anonymous posters I encountered online. I lost count of how many misspelt diatribes against any band who've ever sold more than 20 records there were, normally signed off with some salutation to kvlt black metal bands, a scene with notorious fascist links. And don't get me started on the frenzied, ranting rascist, sexist and homophobic messages that cropped up depressingly far too often.
This kind of thing belongs in the dark ages. Actually, it doesn't belong anywhere. It makes me sick to my stomach to think that some of the main voices from 'fans' come from bitter, sexually frustrated little idiots sat typing away in their parents' basements. People with no friends who are angry at the world. May'be they should be pitied? Or perhaps they should be beaten round the head with their sticky keyboards until they promise not to clog up the internet with shit from their polluted minds. It's your call.
Wednesday, 21 November 2007
Are you ever going to stop?
Recently, a sherriff's department in North Dakota, USA carried out a sting operation in which 30 odd criminals with outstanding warrants were told details of a free party being held in the area, where all you had to do was turn up, party on down and then get to rock out with the legendary Ozzy Osbourne at a gig later that night, as free tickets were being handed out. Unfortunately, when said law dodgers turned up, undoubtedly grinning from ear to ear clutching a keg of lukewarm Budweiser they just robbed from the 7-11 down the street, instead of high fives and a ticket to the gates of paradise, it was more a case of spread 'em, cuff 'em, book 'em. Job well done eh fellas?
Yes the concert was a load of bollocks, made up by the bright sparks back at Donutville HQ, who explained that the trap was "a creative law enforcement technique to lure individuals who had active criminal warrants to come to us." So in other words, tell them it's their birthday then kick them in the balls when they try to open their presents. Instead of a night going crazy, as Ozzy does, they get to share a cell with a sweaty, 30-stone farmhand called Mandy who interferes with the sheep in the worst possible way. And all for free!
Unsurprisingly, 'ol Osbourne is a tad peeved at this besmirching of his good name. In a statement he said; "They went out of their way to imply that I attract a criminal element." And they did, didn't they? I can perhaps see the logic in holding a "Blunts, Glocks and Hoes party with special added Fiddy Cent appearance" if you want to snare some particularly nasty Crips members, but this takes the piss.
The vast majority of metalheads are decent, law-abiding members of society whose only crimes are getting a bit rowdy in the pit, chugging one-too-many brewskies and sometimes not washing for days on end, so why was alternative music dragged through the mud yet again for the purposes of chasing up some unpaid parking tickets?
Metal has had to put up with so much crap ever since Sabbath's first album, so wouldn't it be sweet if this latest example of stereotyping and all round idiocy is the last in a sad trend? So it could end, as it began, with Black Sabbath? Metalheads don't sacrifice babies during satanic rituals, Marilyn Manson lyrics don't make us shoot up schools, and all that headbanging doesn't erode our brain cells (actually that last one might be true... what was I talking about?)
I'm now picturing a load of fat redneck cops covering an AC/DC song on stage, so happy that their lame little scheme worked. Only if you listen closely, they've changed the lyrics to "For those about to rock, we condemn you!"
Yes the concert was a load of bollocks, made up by the bright sparks back at Donutville HQ, who explained that the trap was "a creative law enforcement technique to lure individuals who had active criminal warrants to come to us." So in other words, tell them it's their birthday then kick them in the balls when they try to open their presents. Instead of a night going crazy, as Ozzy does, they get to share a cell with a sweaty, 30-stone farmhand called Mandy who interferes with the sheep in the worst possible way. And all for free!
Unsurprisingly, 'ol Osbourne is a tad peeved at this besmirching of his good name. In a statement he said; "They went out of their way to imply that I attract a criminal element." And they did, didn't they? I can perhaps see the logic in holding a "Blunts, Glocks and Hoes party with special added Fiddy Cent appearance" if you want to snare some particularly nasty Crips members, but this takes the piss.
The vast majority of metalheads are decent, law-abiding members of society whose only crimes are getting a bit rowdy in the pit, chugging one-too-many brewskies and sometimes not washing for days on end, so why was alternative music dragged through the mud yet again for the purposes of chasing up some unpaid parking tickets?
Metal has had to put up with so much crap ever since Sabbath's first album, so wouldn't it be sweet if this latest example of stereotyping and all round idiocy is the last in a sad trend? So it could end, as it began, with Black Sabbath? Metalheads don't sacrifice babies during satanic rituals, Marilyn Manson lyrics don't make us shoot up schools, and all that headbanging doesn't erode our brain cells (actually that last one might be true... what was I talking about?)
I'm now picturing a load of fat redneck cops covering an AC/DC song on stage, so happy that their lame little scheme worked. Only if you listen closely, they've changed the lyrics to "For those about to rock, we condemn you!"
Tuesday, 6 November 2007
Stay dead
Anyone with a passing interest in rock music has, for the last few weeks been going absolutely spare what with the announcement that one of the 70's most revered and infamous bands (Led Zeppelin for those of you living in a cave) are to reform for a series of gigs. Over a million people tried to register for tickets when the website went live, most of them middle-aged bank managers whose days of shaking their flare-clad hips to the pulsating blues of 'Rock and Roll' and 'Black Dog' are but a distant memory.
The band members are set to make millions from their brief appearances, thus adding another layer of diamonds to their respective toilet seats, while corporate promoter Harvey Goldsmith laughes all the way to his, I imagine by now, enormous bank vault. The money generated every second by this gross, whirling hype machine could probably not only feed an African village for a week, it could clear third world debt and therefore mean we'd be finally shot of arse-faced Bob Geldof and the sanctimonious twat Bono. But that's another story. Zeppelin, in my opinion are one of the greatest bands ever to have walked the earth, and are therefore worthy of a reunion, so a whole new generation of rabid fans, myself included can bask in their magical, mystical, musical glow, if only once.
This brings me to the point. If Zeppelin are reforming, what bands should NEVER see the light of day again? What bands should remain confined to the bargain bin and the back of your parent's (and shamefully your own) record collection, gathering a thick layer of dust. I have compiled a short list of bands that we should never have to endure again.
1. Limp Bizkit
Back in the day (2001) to be more specific, backwards cap sporting, gibbering chimp Fred Durst and his band of merry idiots ruled the hearts and minds of every greasy, lank haired, Satan loving, parent hating teenage troglydite in the land (yet again I feel ashamed) with their horrifically deformed 'musical' excretion nu-metal. Imagine a fat, sexually repressed truck driver shouting "No mum, I'm not coming in for my fucking tea, you can eat it your-fucking-self" over and over again to tinny industrial, yet massively over-produced guitars and 'scratching' that would make DJ Shadow vomit with rage. Thankfully they soon disappeared into obscurity when everyone realised that the music the band played was not music to kill yourself to, but music that made you want to kill yourself. Durst was last seen in a mobile phone sex tape, bloated with burgers and self loathing.
2. Nickleback
The origin of this giant Canadian turd's monicker came from the bassist's previous job in Starbucks where he would say on a daily basis; "Here's your coffee and your nickle back."
For those of you unaware, Nickleback sound like Pearl Jam being played by people with no talent. Hey presto! Millions of albums sold! Frontman Chad Kroeger happens to be one of the most odious excuses for a human being ever, wielding his arrogance like a massive club at festivals when he tried to have fans ejected if they didn't appear to be enjoying his coffee-shop-core take on grunge. The band's biggest hit 'How You Remind Me' only reminded me of what I hate about music. Let's hope the bassist remembers his Starbucks lingo because it won't be long till he's back there again working full time (God hoping).
3. The Spice Girls
Shit! Too late they've already reformed! Aargh quick kill it, kill it! Aim for the ginger one! Aim for the one with no talent! I know that's all of them! Come on, that's not an impenetrable shield, it's just a thick layer of botox and the glassy eyed stare of people so vacuous, they make Jodie Marsh look like the love-child of Stephen Hawking and Albert Einstein. Quick! Hit it, it's still moving!
The band members are set to make millions from their brief appearances, thus adding another layer of diamonds to their respective toilet seats, while corporate promoter Harvey Goldsmith laughes all the way to his, I imagine by now, enormous bank vault. The money generated every second by this gross, whirling hype machine could probably not only feed an African village for a week, it could clear third world debt and therefore mean we'd be finally shot of arse-faced Bob Geldof and the sanctimonious twat Bono. But that's another story. Zeppelin, in my opinion are one of the greatest bands ever to have walked the earth, and are therefore worthy of a reunion, so a whole new generation of rabid fans, myself included can bask in their magical, mystical, musical glow, if only once.
This brings me to the point. If Zeppelin are reforming, what bands should NEVER see the light of day again? What bands should remain confined to the bargain bin and the back of your parent's (and shamefully your own) record collection, gathering a thick layer of dust. I have compiled a short list of bands that we should never have to endure again.
1. Limp Bizkit
Back in the day (2001) to be more specific, backwards cap sporting, gibbering chimp Fred Durst and his band of merry idiots ruled the hearts and minds of every greasy, lank haired, Satan loving, parent hating teenage troglydite in the land (yet again I feel ashamed) with their horrifically deformed 'musical' excretion nu-metal. Imagine a fat, sexually repressed truck driver shouting "No mum, I'm not coming in for my fucking tea, you can eat it your-fucking-self" over and over again to tinny industrial, yet massively over-produced guitars and 'scratching' that would make DJ Shadow vomit with rage. Thankfully they soon disappeared into obscurity when everyone realised that the music the band played was not music to kill yourself to, but music that made you want to kill yourself. Durst was last seen in a mobile phone sex tape, bloated with burgers and self loathing.
2. Nickleback
The origin of this giant Canadian turd's monicker came from the bassist's previous job in Starbucks where he would say on a daily basis; "Here's your coffee and your nickle back."
For those of you unaware, Nickleback sound like Pearl Jam being played by people with no talent. Hey presto! Millions of albums sold! Frontman Chad Kroeger happens to be one of the most odious excuses for a human being ever, wielding his arrogance like a massive club at festivals when he tried to have fans ejected if they didn't appear to be enjoying his coffee-shop-core take on grunge. The band's biggest hit 'How You Remind Me' only reminded me of what I hate about music. Let's hope the bassist remembers his Starbucks lingo because it won't be long till he's back there again working full time (God hoping).
3. The Spice Girls
Shit! Too late they've already reformed! Aargh quick kill it, kill it! Aim for the ginger one! Aim for the one with no talent! I know that's all of them! Come on, that's not an impenetrable shield, it's just a thick layer of botox and the glassy eyed stare of people so vacuous, they make Jodie Marsh look like the love-child of Stephen Hawking and Albert Einstein. Quick! Hit it, it's still moving!
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