My favorite venue

As a world-renowned blogger, people ask me questions all the time in order to get my opinion about important topics in the world of metal. The one I'm asked most often is:

"What is the best venue that you've ever seen a show at?"

While I'm tempted to talk about that one strip club in Fort Lauderdale where I saw Exhorder, or the Eagle's Ballroom in Milwaukee where I saw Testament, Overkill, Downset and Body Count all in one day...I always come back to the same answer:

The loading dock at my uncle's lumber business. The acoustics were so good there that no band ever had to use amps taller than their knees. It was also cool because you could park on stage with the band, as you'll see in the second video. Yes, it was there, at the loading dock that I saw some of the sweetest shows in metal history. Luckily, these days EVERYTHING is on YouTube. Thank god for the internets.

Images from around the interweb

Here we see two of our summer interns (Emily and Alberto) from UC Davis doing research for this post. Good luck this fall semester guys!

As we have done before, today we are once again taking you around the world, the world of the internet, via images that we have found during our travels through the real world and through cyberspace. Join us, wont you?





The last time I was in Belgium, I saw a poster which led me to believe that Nocturnus was playing that night. Needless to say, I was surprised and excited by the prospect of getting to see one of my favorite time-travel themed death metal bands from the early 90s. I went back to my hotel room (I don't stay in Hostels, because I'm not a teenager and I have a job), and changed into my death metal show attire. Imagine my surprise when I showed up and realized that I was in some kind of fruit-boot festival. As far as the eye can see, euros wearing rollerblades were busting out sick tricks, like the ones from the movie Airborne (an MI favorite)...needless to say, I was both sad and disgusted. I went around asking these stupid teenagers if they even had any theories about time travel or spaceships. Sadly, they didn't.





Can you imagine how hard it is for his wife to cry herself to sleep every night after she realizes that this is the man she married? Having said that...sweet pants and bandana combo bro!






Perhaps you've seen this amazing Nocturnus cover, I know I have since I have the original artwork framed in my living room. Anyway, the other day a friend of mine who went to art school was over and noticed some incredible flaws in this masterpiece. I know, I know, it's hard to believe since Mike Browning has the Midas touch. Be that as it may, the image above includes lines that were rendered by very a sophisticated computer program. This image shows the many conflicting perspectives within the painting. The conclusion? Either this thing was painted by a drunken four year old, or Mike Browning just discovered some kind of sixth dimension...and we're all too fucking stupid to get it. Is he a visual pioneer like architect Peter Eisenman, who almost singlehandedly brought deconstructivism to the architectural forefront? Your make the call.





"Fuck Travis! I specifically told you NOT to change the speed on the fan to "turbo" until we started playing 'Winds Of Sickness'! The fan is part of our stage show, it's not a fucking toy! "

That nights performance was putrid, as were all the others during their four day tour of southern Illinois.





Is he casting a spell on me? Will the spell make my hair and face as greasy as his for the rest of my life?




Is he casting another spell on me? If I allow him to cast a spell on me, will he give me his magic cape? Maybe he's not casting a spell on me at all...maybe he's just saying "smell my fingers"...and maybe the guy on the left is making that face because he just did.






Being the singer in a Mexican atmospheric black metal band is not all fun and games. First, your drummer tells you that you have to help him load in his 84 piece drumkit, most of which he bought used at the Queensryche garage sale. Then, you suddenly remember that you forgot to bring the flour tortillas you made for the band to eat before the show. ¡Ay dios mio!



When these people were born, their parents were full of hope, and dreamed of their sons and daughters going on to live full and happy lives. By the time this picture was taken, their parents' spirits had surely been broken. They know and understand that their kids turned out to be fat pathetic shut-ins. As a result, they barely cry themselves to sleep anymore.





Most black metal bands speak about evil and darkness, and that's all fine and good...but this is a band's whose message I can truly get behind. As you can see in this picture, the singer is denouncing the low aesthetic values of dropped ceilings, a message I think we can all get behind.



When anyone is trying to act super evil, there's always some mexican dude who just wants to drink some Bud and give the camera the finger. Here at Metal Inquisition, we love that Mexican dude. I mean, honestly...who would you rather hang out with? The black metal guy just wants to show you his picture disc collection, play Burzum videos for you, and brag about how he knows the guy that writes the music reviews in anus.com. On the other hand, the Mexican dude knows the hot girl at the taco stand, he does a killer Al Pacino impression, he owns all the Fast And The Furious movies for PSP, he works at Pac Sun and can get you a discount...and his brother does landscaping work for super cheap. Who would you rather hang out with? Your call.

Why Candlemass rules above all other shitty Swedish bands

***PLEASE NOTE: THIS POST DOES NOT CONTAIN ANY REFERENCES TO SWEDISH DEATH OR BLACK METAL.

I have never been much of a Candlemass fan. I don't know something about fat Swedish guys with brillopad hair wearing a Slanket never really turned my crank (Yes, I am aware he's not in the band anymore). However, if you follow my Twitter (and really, why wouldn't you?), then you'd know I've developed a little bit of an obsession with them. I have rediscovered them, if you will. Now, does the fact that I just started liking a band in 2009 that has been around since the 80s make me a poser? If some cretin came to me and told me he just now got into Hellhammer, I'd probably label him a fuckwad poser and steal his car. That's the usual poser punishment around here. Well, call me what you will, but I like Candlemass now. I did have Candlemass Live on cassette in high school, although I only listened to it once.

Other than the occasional Sabbath song here and there and some Paradise Lost, I don't usually dig on the sludgy slow doomy type shit, but lately Candlemass (and Messiah's fatness) have changed that. It's not only that I have found their songs incredibly catchy or that I have rediscovered how fat (and therefore funny) Massiah is, but the music seems to match my mood as of late. It's not that I have been sad or depressed. Quite the contrary, I have been on the up and up (which you'd also know if you follow my Twitter), but somehow their slow tunes have become an anthem to my life these days. Whatever, I'm a fucking werido.

The reason for this post, tho, is not to talk about the average Candlemass tunes, Messiah's fatness or to promote my Twitter, but to talk about the awesomest songs the Swedish meatballs, known as Candlemass, ever recorded. Read on, my friends. Read on!

Sweden has a long standing and well documented history of shit music. Who can forget Hick?

This image is so fucking funny on it's own, I'm not even gonna bother trying to say anything witty, mean or in anyway "funny" about it. I'll just point one thing out. We found Ron Weasely's real dad!

And there's Faith! Who can forget Faith? Who can forget the Doom pioneers who brought us the "Hymn of the Sinner" 7" single? Who can forget them? Not me! Mostly because it's hard to forget something you'd never heard of before until doing web research for a long-winded and all around retarded post about a second rate band like Candlemass.

From L to R: Assclown wearing my mom's suede boots // Moustache wilding frontman with a poodle haircut, my sister's sweater, my gym socks circe 1984 and a crucifix keychain // Guy looking sad 'cuz his mom won't let him grow his hair long // And... wait is that a dude or an ugly chick?

I didn't wanna bring these guys up, but...

So many poodle haircuts I don't know what to do. I wonder if that's like a "Swedish Thing", these terrible haircuts.

And then there's ABBA... Fuck me with a 15" black dildo! This whole Mama Mia! bullshit could have been avoided if these fucktarts would have died in their teens. *Sigh*, how I long for Nocturnus' Time Machine right now... Way to go Sweden, thanks for nothing.

Is it me, or does everyone in this picture look like his wearing a wig?

But all of the Swedish musical "legends," none is bigger (or lamer, really), than this gentleman. Allow me to introduce to Sigge Furst, a true Swedish icon. He was a mediocre actor and a horribly bad singer during the 40s, 50s and 60s.

He did more than 130 movies, and I'm sure they were all "very good." I wonder if the Swedes understood the concept of Two Thumbs Down in the 50s... Anyway, he was in the incredibly entertaining musical "I Dur Och Skur." What a picture that was! They sure don't make them like that anymore. Sven Lindberg was also very good in this movie. I recommend you put it on your Netlix list right away. In your Swedish Netflix, AKA "NeetFliiks"

And let us not forget the TV masterpiece "Himmel Och Pannkaka" featuring the incomparable Gunmar Bjornstand. That show was a kneeslapper! Imagine a mixture of Seinfeld, Gilligan's Island and and The Benny Hill Show! Actually that's not it at all, I just made that up. I have never seen and Sweedish TV, unless you count soft porn as "TV."

So, what does the prodigious Sigge Furst have to do with Candlemass? Aside from also being a Swede, in a stroke of true Swedish genius, in 1993 Candlemass decided to cover four songs by the late legend in an EP aptly titled "Sjunger Sigge Furst." I'm not sure why I said "aptly", since i have no idea WTF "Sjunger" means, but maybe I wanted to sound smart, and the use of words like "aptly" make you sound smarter than you actually are. I got a B in drafting once.

In any case, I think the whole EP is brilliance on mp3. Below, please find both, the original and the cover, of the catchy tune called "Bullfest." I don't really know if they even have bulls in Sweden, so I'm not sure what the song is about, but I love it! If it doesn't make you wanna get up and dance, there's obviously something really, really wrong with you. Or maybe there's something really, really wrong with me. Actually, I know there's something really, really wrong with me, so please disregard the previous statement.

I hope enjoyed that as much as I did. Probably not, but then again, I'm not sure I care.

Here's something else I found that I thought was interesting... Apparently Sigge Furst is not the only has-been dipshit Candlemass paid tribute to in the 90s.

So, what have we learned today, kids? Well, we learned that there is no cattle in Sweden, that I have serious psychological issues and that gluttony is a sin. Go fuck yourselves. Porn.

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From Spain with love (Part 2)

In case you missed the first part of this post, you should know that two of Metal Inquistion's finest writers are going to Spain and Andorra, not to see some horrible metal festival, but to see the Tour De France as it makes it's way through those two countries. In celebration, we will now take a closer look at Spain's offerings and culture in the realm of metal.



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Sometimes, even kvlt black metal dudes have to put grimness aside and say "ehhh...fuck it, I need to get laid"



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When I see this picture, all I can think about is the fact that his mother still lovingly washes the skid marks out of his underwear.


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Many bands from Spain are merely fifth rate rip offs of more established shit bands. Want proof? Just look at Spanish shit-music pioneers Nu. Have you ever had the unfortunate luck of listening to Jethro Tull? If you have, then you've also heard these guys. Spanish lesson for today: How to say "the flute is the most phallic instrument ever, and all those who play the flute were probably molested as children", repeat after me class "La flauta es el instrumento mas falico del mundo, y todos los que tocan la flauta probablemente fueron abusados sexualmente cuando eran niños."


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This particular black metal band from Spain is really not trying hard enough. Just look at their ill-conceived stage props. Who could possibly hang themselves from a noose that is two feet off the floor?


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I can just imagine the email that the band members sent the "artist" who drew this cover. Once translated into English, it went a little something like this: "So the logo will totally be made of steel, and should have rivets! Don't forget the rivets, they are very important. From the logo, lightning should come down, and be hitting both the statue that we mentioned in our last email, but also the human heart that the guy will be holding on his right hand. Oh and by the way, please make sure that the guy holding the heart looks exactly like Dog The Bounty Hunter, and please make sure that his hands are permanently locked in an action figure-like kung-fu grip.





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I don't know which part to laugh at first, the perspective or the misshaped roulette wheel. Having said that, I have to say that I admire the artists' ability to render the creases in both fabrics and leather. This guy must have been trained by artistic master who gave the world the sublime rendering of drapes on the cover of Death Angel's Act III




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If your mom asks you to go cut down some of the weeds in the back yard, don't take it as a worthless chore. If you are truly committed to being grim, you should see it as an opportunity to be grim as fuck.




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In an attempt to bring Spain into this century, the police have been rounding up metal douchebags on a daily basis, and sterilizing them in order to prevent them from breeding. Although some are protesting that these round-ups reek of Franco-era tactics, I see them as being both unimportant, and unnecessary. Why spend tax payer's money sterilizing these individuals, when their denim vests already act as a kryptonite-like deterrant against all females?



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Vests in general are very useful. A life vest keeps you from drowning. A bullet proof vest keeps bullets away. A denim vest keeps women away.

Come on, you saw the joke coming from a mile away...but you still laughed. Admit it.

What will they think of next: Purulent Jacuzzi

"Get me Putin!"

Until very recently, there was a place in Seattle called "Tubs" in which you could rent a jacuzzi by the hour. Yes, I know what you are thinking- everybody in the area also recoiled in horror at the idea of submerging their genitals in a rancid bath that is more or less a stew made from the lower bodies of whatever strangers happened to be rent the jacuzzi before you did.

I am pretty sure the drummer is the guy who invented Tetris. Either that or a pedophile. Maybe both.

I could go into more detail, but thanks to the wonders of Web 2.0, I can simply crowdsource it from Yelp!! Yay internets! (I feel like there is someone at IDEO or Frog right now coughing awkwardly to remind me that they coined the term "crowdsourcing" in 2002). Here are a few highlights from consumer reviews:

Brooke B.
It has been fun making jokes about contracting the clap from your titular "tubs" for the last 10 years. It was always my plan to bring a special someone and a bucket of Ezell's fried chicken to a private room and really get down. Thanks for the memories, Tubs. You will be missed.

JC D.
Ari:OMG, I'm so embarrassed!
Tanya:Rumor has it that people were having sex in the totally secluded hot tubs, so they got shutdown.
JC: Yeah, people would fling gonorrhea and Chlamydia at the walls.
Ari: ehhhh...okay.
Tanya: I'm HUNGRY!
The place is obviously still closed, and surprisingly fenced up by the health department and the humane society.

Mr. Robot O.
I visited here in an "official" capacity as an inspector, not a customer, so I only got to look at, and not enjoy, the "sparkling acrylic spas with hydro-therapy jets" constructed with "state-of-the-art spa engineering."
The thought of paying someone so I could lounge around in these giant petri dishes wasn't that enticing.

With bands like the Meat Shits and Gut pushing the boundaries of poor taste over the past decade or two, it's harder than ever to shock audiences. You really have to dig deep to find something inspiring that's novel, unique yet completely foul and disgusting. For Russian goregrind band Purulent Jacuzzi, Tubs is just that source of inspiration.


That's what I tell myself, at least. I certainly can't think or any other reason why a band would call themselves fucking Purulent Jacuzzi! At first I thought it was some sort of misunderstanding; I figured they just didn't really understand what the fuck they were saying. I assumed it was like Lisa Simpson said when she saw a poster for the movie Yahoo Serious: "Those words are both English, but they don't make any sense together!"



But no! From the image above, it seems that they understand exactly what those words mean and are using them quite literally! Best of all, they are pretty fucking good, especially the song in the video above. I'm not all that crazy about bree-bree vocals, but the singer for PJ pulls them off about as well as anybody, and they definitely have their share crushing slamz.

If there is anything to take away from all this, it is that no man has a crystal ball. Wait, that's not true, Mike Browning has the Nocturnus crystal ball. But aside from him, we are all powerless to predict what strange, new, exciting forms of music are coming around the bend. All we can do is sit back and enjoy the show... and mosh our balls off to Purulent Jacuzzi.

From Spain with love (Part 1)

Put aside you preconceived notions about men with shaved legs and spandex shorts for a minute. Look, this is a sport where a Norwegian guy named Thor bleeds all over himself as though he were doing a photo shoot for a Mayhem album cover. Not bad, not bad at all.

Breaking news from the Metal Inquisition headquarters, news big enough for me to post my usual Friday piece on Thursday. What's the big news you ask? Two of Metal Inquisition's finest (myself and Mr Skullkrusher) are heading over to Europe in just a few weeks. Why are we going to Europe you ask? That's a perfectly valid question. Are we going to Europe in order to catch some sweet metal festivals? No. Are we going to Europe in order to find where Euronymous' Helvet record store was, in order to laugh uncontrollably while standing in front of it (since it's now a bakery)? Nope. Are going in order to visit the slightly pathetic Cliff Burton memorial that was erected miles away from the site of his accident, and without support of the band or his family? Nah.

You see, we are going to Europe for a much cooler reason. We are going so that we can watch the Tour De France live and in person, as it makes it's way through northeast Spain and Andorra for a few days. What could be more metal than that? (Please don't answer that question.) Although it's tempting, I'm not going to bore you with more details about the trip and my extreme excitement about the whole thing. While perhaps it would be cooler to go to Belgium to see the spring classics, this was an opportunity that presented itself and had to be taken. In order to not focus on cycling, and because our marketing department has determined that all posts relating to sports must be about cricket (due to the international nature of our readership), I will instead write about what Spain has to offer in the realm of metal. Oh, and for any of you that live in Spain, if you manage to spot us in the huge crowds, simply say the magic password and you'll get a prize. The magic password/phrase is:

"M.O.D. was both derivative and self referential in a post-modern sense"

If you successfully spot us, and deliver this line verbatim, you will win one of my most highly prized metal possessions....my cassette of Benediction's "meh" inducing "Subconscious Terror" album.



Before I move on to the primary content of this piece, allow me to make one final point about cycling being metal. Look for yourself, and tell me that the picture of Thor Hushovd wouldn't make for a pretty good black metal album cover. Check it out, side by side with an actual Mayhem cover.



Not too bad huh? Aside from the bright green bib shorts, I think it's pretty good. I mean, you can also argue about the fact that he's wearing a yellow jersey...but hey...Dead was wearing a white "I Love Transylvania" shirt when this picture was taken...so it all evens out. By the way, if you're wondering what the white text says, it's a phrase I ran through one of those online translators. The name of the brutal album would be: "Thor falls while wearing the yellow jersey". Look, when you know what it says, it's not that evil...but just looking at it...it works. *


* Leave it up to me to spend like six minutes in Photoshop in order to make a joke about Mayhem and Thor Hushovd that a grand total of two people worldwide will really get. Ehhh.


Okay, with these formalities out of the way, let's move on to taking a closer look at Spain's offerings in the realm of metal. Enjoy.


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I don't care where you live, I don't care what type of metal you're into...I think we can ALL agree about one thing: nothing says "extreme metal brutality" like three pairs of fuchsia jeans in one picture. While American fans are barely trying when it comes to their attire, dudes in Spain are rocking jeans in colors that are rarely seen in nature, let alone in clothing. Take that American fuckers!



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Spain has really weird traditions. You've probably heard about the running of the bulls in Pamplona, perhaps you also know about the Tomatina festival. A lesser known festival from Spain takes place once a year in San Sebastian. In that celebration, metal fans from throughout the region gather to discuss the validity of Destruction's early recordings for hours upon hours, to see who the last man standing will be. Slowly, lesser competitors fall asleep as they talk, leaving behind the lone "Campeon De Destruction" who will hold his title for one full year. If you thought going to Pamplona and getting gorged by a bull straight into your rectum was painful, you should try listening to these guys talk about Infernal Overkill for eighteen hours straight.




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Spanish lesson for today: How to say "Dan Lilker has super creepy, tiny baby teeth, and so does this guy"

Repeat after me class, "Dan Lilker tiene dientesitos de bebe asustadores, y este tipo tambien los tiene. "


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In some parts of Europe, it's common for semi-grown men to still live with their parents. The upside of this arrangment? Free rent, and the fact that your mom will wash your jean vest (taking extra care to make sure that your Sarcofago patch doesn't come off in the wash.) The downside? Mom makes you take out the garbage when you're in full metal uniform. What's a metal fan to do when confronted with such an inconvenience? If you're like this guy, you see metal opportunities where others see obstacles. Don't let chores slow you down, rock those fucking chores! Take out that fucking garbage. Metal, and metal attitude should never take a holiday. Just look at this guy and learn, this fucker could make yard work look metal.




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Some have said that the Catholic church is too powerful in Spain, and that as a result homophobia is on the rise. I disagree. When you see flagrant displays of homosexuality such as the ones by the singer of Angeles Del Infierno, you have to applaud the church's changing views as well as their leniant policies.












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Quiet down class, please quiet down. Our Spanish lesson for today is the following, repeat after me class: "El Wigger-o Slam-o"



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Son:
"No Papi, that's not what I'm saying at all...I'm saying that Baron Rojo and other bands from Spain are valid, but Sarcofago and Vulcano were lightyears ahead of their time, you know? Also, Beherit merely used that sound and that type of production as a crutch, so I don't know that their contributions were valid at all."

Father:
"Uh...okay, fine. Sure, sure. But seriously, when are you and your collection of fingerless gloves moving out of our fucking house? Your mom and I seriously want you out of our fucking lives once and for all."




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They say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. That's all fine and good, but can we also say that it's the sincerest form of unimaginative plagiarism?


* Top image is of a tribute record of bands from Argentina, covering Baron Rojo, who are from Spain.


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"So I was thinking, we can use my sister's drawing at the top of the picture...we can just photoshop it in there. Juan, you can make a wooden manhole cover, just remember to glue some bottle caps on it....what else, what else. Oh yeah, I just remembered. It would be super awesome if we had a shadowy rendering of the Enterprise kinda' like behind us, it would add a grim, outespsace kinda' feel to the picture."





More to come next Friday.