Heavy Metal Jock Jamz: What's your playlist?

With Mr. Olympia right around the corner, it's time to get serious about blasting your quads and getting shredded! There's no time like the present to get cannonball delts, crisp serratus, and lats that flare like the hood of an angry cobra! Since I am guessing most of you are either shut-ins with the physique of an AIDS patient or flabby Relapse beardos who haven't seen the outside of their mother's basement in a decade, I figured I'd share my Heavy Metal Jock Jamz and do my part to keep our readers get diesel!

Thanks to my Apple internetPod, my playlist is constantly changing. I can just put in a new tape when I get bored with the last one, so it's never the same twice. Still, I find that my Jock Jamz consistently fall into a few categories:

Infernal Revulsion are one of the many reasons why Japan is the leading producer of anime tentacle porn, Pokemon, and wigger slam.

Slamz & X Breakdowns X
This is a no-brainer: what would a gym playlist be without the fucking slamz?! I have written about this topic extensively so I won't duplicate all that here. Instead, here is a little checklist that you can use to evaluate any given slam band. Give them one slam for every time you answer "yes," and if they score 4 or higher, they are gym-worthy:

• Camo shorts (extra point if they're arctic camo)
• Puffy vests and/or parkas
• Band is from Russia or Texas (extra point if they are more than 75% Mexicans)
• Band name ends in "-ment" or "-tion"/"-sion"
  
• Video features wiggerish arm movements, crab-walking
• Bassist has his instrument below knee-level

Try it out and you'll see how quickly it will help you sort your slamz. For example, the clearly gym-worthy Katalepsy score a whopping 5/6 slamz, while Wormed scores 0. The checklist helped us realize that it is critical to choose occasion-appropriate slamz: Wormed are a great band, but not good gym material because they are too smart. Nobody wants thinking man's slam in their ear while you're trying to focus on your deadlift form.

Jer-Z will not be disgraced!! And look at those fucking puffy vests! Damn son! Get your ass over to the Willowbrook Mall and cop one for yourself!

The AC bro from Emmure and Jonathan from Forever The Sickest Kids both enjoy wearing colorful New Eras. I'd like to think that says that we can all be friends, whether we are scene, preppy, or 'core. We all love Hollister and New Era, and at the end of the day that is more important than our superficial differences, right?

Another genre for you to check out is what I like to call "scene wigger moshcore," which is basically shit like Emmure, The Acacia Strain, and Liferuiner. I coined this term because they have chinstraps and New Era hats like your standard-issue mosh wigger, but this bands rock them in bold colorways that would look right at home on Breathe Carolina or Dot Dot Curve. Anyway, all these bands basically sound the same: the ultimate expression of the 90s moshcore formula in a Zao-meets-Adamantium way. So basically, the fucking definition of gym-core.

Emmure's new album is brutal as fuck and full of sick XbreakdownsX and drama-inciting lines like "ask your girl what my dick tastes like."

When to play it: Pretty much anytime you want to feel fuckin' hard, for example when you are annihilating your abs with insane volume! Just put on some Cold As Life while you bang out a zillion reps, then mean mug the gym mirror, and be like, "750 crunches, what now bitch?! This gym ain't got shit on my steez!"

They look like Michael Moore, but these bros know how to write a fucking mosh riff that takes your mind off the pain of being alive for at least a few seconds.

Regretcore
Now let's talk about a very gym-worthy subgenre of hardcore that I like to call "regretcore." In a nutshell, it's the soundtrack to the moment when you look in the mirror, realize you're in your 30s, and that your life is a fucking mess because you're a fuckup who makes retarded decisions that you may not be able to fix. If you have had this moment you know exactly what I'm fucking talking about! Basically, it's "I'm honestly afraid I may have ruined my life forever" put to music, and it's so brutally honest that it can be a little hard to handle, like seeing your dad cry. Let me explain more...

Most of you already think I'm a gay poser, so whatever. When I wasn't listening to Pyrexia, 7 Minutes of Nausea and Dystopia in high school, I was jamming bands like All, Descendents, and later Blink-182, Saves The Day, etc. All their songs essentially amounted to "Wah wah, I like this girl but she doesn't like me back." That sucks but at the same time is kind of fun- you sit around with your friends and complain about chicks, go skate behind 7-11, and hit up Taco Bell. You forget all about it by the time side one of "Thrash Zone" is over.

I love regretcore so much that I got a Death Threat tattoo (the one on the left that says "Now Here Fast"). I am so gay that I got a matching Chris Isaak tattoo (the one on the right that says "Forever Blue").

Fast forward to 2009, we're all in our 30s, and shit is way too real. I ran into a friend of mine who I hadn't seen in a bit. His wife just left him and I wanted to see how he was doing. The dude is a LEGIT hard motherfucker who has fucked up a lot of people, but he's human like the rest of us and nobody shrugs off a divorce. I asked him how he was doing, and he just said, "Well, I had the gun in my mouth last night but I couldn't do it." I was also getting a "divorce" after 8 years with my ex and I was pretty much in the same place, so all I could do was nod in agreement and say "I'm with you, dude." In 10 short years, we went from "The girl who works at the mall doesn't like me, boo hoo" to "My wife left me and I literally want to die."

Regretcore is what happens when you get a hardcore band made up of dudes in their 30s who are fuckups like my friend and I. Instead of singing about how the cute girl who works at Dairy Queen has big boobies, they write songs about trying to pick up the pieces of your life after a divorce, rehab, or prison. They don't have songs about how hard their crew is, their songs are self-directed pep talks that go something like, "Dude, I won't lie, you fucked up pretty bad. But don't kill yourself. If you're lucky you can maybe get a job at a gas station or something and piece together a few scraps of self-respect."

HAD TO BITE AND SCRATCH TO STAY ON MY FEET - WITH A HEART MADE OF STEEL, I SMASH THROUGH EVERYTHING!!

While bands like Sheer Terror, Crowbar, and Life of Agony paved the way, Terror are pretty the Led Zepplin of this subgenre: they're not regretcore, but it couldn't exist without Scott Vogel being a charismatic fuckup who writes uncomfortably straightforward songs about it. Lines like "Time and time again, I've fucked things up. All my hopes and dreams have been gone so long" are a trademark of the genre: Chris Barnes-like statements of fact that were probably written in a moment of tearful self-hatred after a week long coke binge and maybe beating someone half to death for reasons you can't remember.

Furious Styles is the hardest thing out of Seattle since Everything Went Black, check it out and maybe they'll give you a glimmer of hope that you can salvage your pathetic life. It didn't work for me, but who knows, maybe you're not as far gone as I am.

Death Threat is another cornerstone of regretcore, with brutally simple lines like "When you've got nothing you don't give a fuck" and "I know no other way to take the pain. Insted of trying to make things better I get fucked up everyday." You really don't know what to say because that really says it all in the most straightforward way you possibly could. Perhaps the ultimate regretcore line, though, is from post-Bulldoze band Terrorzone: "I regret what I did, though I had to do a bid." Translation: "I went to prison because I lost my cool and fucked some dude up, that sucked."

When to play it
Regretcore has no equal when it comes to gym motivation! When you have to dig deep and squeeze out those extra few reps, there's nothing like a little voice (I like to imagine it's Scott Vogel) whispering in your ear, "If you don't stay in shape no woman will ever be attracted to you and you'll die alone. Now give me one more set of squats, you fucking loser!"

Burn Halo is the new Douchebro Anthemcore band from 18V singer Jame Shart

Douchebro Anthemcore
Whew, that was heavy! Sometimes you get burned out on the regretcore and you need to lighten things up a little, using positive imagery to motivate yourself and get your hustle on. For that, there is nothing than a good Douchebro Anthem- what we used to call "hard rock." Sometimes you just want to forget your troubles, forget that you're a worthless trainwreck who wasted your potential, and just think about making (really fun) poor life choices, usually some variation on getting fucked up with some hotties at a party or club.

There are a lot of options when it comes to Douchebro Anthemcore, because there are a lot of douchebro that start bands, and apparently it sells because labels keep putting it out. It really depends on what kind of douchebro you're looking to be.

Some guys are more of the sensitive douchebro, so maybe they'll put on some Cold, Staind, or Hinder and think about how much tail they would get if they played an acoustic set at some "hole in the wall club" so it would be "really intimate." Then they would get really intimate with some recently divorced office hott who got shitfaced and left at the club alone by her equally shitfaced friend who promptly abandoned her when she met some dude.

The best part of this video is the retards who got Avenged Sevenfold tattoos- specifically, imagining the burning embarrassment they feel every time they see that this video has nearly 2 millions plays.

Me, I'm more of the aggro/party douchebro, so you'll find more stuff like Papa Roach and Avenged Sevenfold on my Heavy Metal Jock Jamz. I'll be flexing in the mirror, practicing my flirty pout that will melt the office hotts' panties off and playing air guitar to "Unholy Confessions" or "Last Resort."

When to play it: When the only way to cope with the crushing despair that comes with realizing you're a piece of shit is to act like an even bigger piece of shit.

***

What's on YOUR Heavy Metal Jock Jamz playlist? What makes YOU want to blast your quads??

The day that Dave Murray blew me off

You have to love the reddish/orange skin color that british people get when they drink too much and are left out in the sun too long.

A few years ago, I was meeting up with a friend in the streets of Manhattan. It was an incredibly cold day, and I didn't have any gloves on. One of the things you have to love about New York (and there aren't many) is that you can basically go out into the streets nude, and within five seconds you can buy an entire outfit, a wallet, gold chains, a fake rolex and a Louis Vuitton purse for about $5...all from street vendors.




On that day, I went up to a street vendor who looked to be Middle Eastern, and asked him how much he wanted for a pair of gloves. "Five dollah for glove. But for you my friend, four dollah. You need lady gloves." Okay, I should tell you that I'm a rather short man, a manchild if you will. People often think I'm a good bit younger than I am...and now this guy was saying I needed women's gloves because of my size? Oh, hell no. After he said it, he chuckled a bit. I was insulted. I mean, is there anything lower than a street vendor? I was getting made fun of by the lowest form of life. I disregarded his comment, and tried on the men's gloves in order to show him that my man-sized hands needed man-sized gloves. Sadly, he was right. They were gigantic on my small child-like hands. With my tail between my legs, I gave him four dollars and took the smaller, women's gloves.

Why on earth am I telling you this story? Because much in the same way that a street vendor once made fun of me, the other lowest form of human life that exists on this planet also made fun of me once...and in a very inventive way. I am talking, of course, about Dave Murray of Iron Maiden.

Can you tell which of the pictures above is of the Cryptkeeper and which one is of Dave Murray? I sure can't.

Dave Murray, or the Crypkeeper as I like to call him is a dick. Let me tell you why. Some years ago, Mr. Awakening (a founding member of M.I. who is now too good to post anymore) and I went to see Iron Maiden. We had pretty good tickets, and were excited to see the show. As we walked around and looked for redneck metalheads to make fun of, we were elated to find an unusual surprise in the midst of the audience. There, for no reason at all, walking around the crowd was none other than Rick Ta Life. This was unusual, as this concert was not taking place near New York City, New Jersey or any other places were such creatures are often seen in the wild. It was as majestic as seeing a cheetah in its native environment.

Nice bullet proof vest, I guess. I wonder if he knows that it looks like he's an umpire behind home plate, or that he's wearing an apron so he can get some baking done at his mom's house.

Okay, so let's put Rick To Life aside for a minute, because that's not what this story is about. There we were, enjoying ourselves, listening to Motorhead play from afar. I was talking to some people, showing them my new phone. I was a relatively late adapter of cell phone technology, and was rather proud of my Sony Ericsson handheld device. In retrospect, the phone was a piece of crap, and Mr Awakening had the same phone as I did...only he kept and used his until last year! The phone looked a bit like this one, but crappier and older.


The one function I loved the most about the phone was its camera. This being a long time ago, the camera was actually not integrated into the phone. Weird, I know. The camera was actually a small device that you plugged into the phone in order to take pictures. Anyway, as I was showing off my cool new phone, I saw an unmistakable sight off in the distance. I saw a tall man with a huge orange pumpkin face. The pumpkin-faced man had a head as round and large as a tortilla, and he proudly wore what looked like lace-up boxing boots and spandex pants. I asked myself, who is this man? Spandex? Pumkin face? Is it Lance Armstrong with a pumpkin on his head getting ready to box someone? I was confused by this dadaist creature. As I looked more closely, I saw that it was certainly Dave Murray of Iron Maiden. His dried up hair resembled straw, and his crater-like acne scars were visible all over his disgusting pumpkin face.

Who knew that british guys in metal bands were into Tommy Bahama clothing? If you like Dave's shirt, please look here, for more great fashion statements courtesy of Tommy Bahama.

Since I was so excited about my new camera phone, I told everyone that I was showing my phone to that I was about to go get a picture with Dave. I started to walk up to the toritlla-faced cryptkeeper. I should tell you that I was doing this as a bit of a joke, being that I also have pictures with the likes of Manowar and Danzig. Anyway, as I went up to him, I clearly saw his backstage passes, his Maiden shirt, his receding hairline, and finallyl got a better view at his huge jackolantern face. I saw him there, standing quietely, looking off into the distance. He was drinking a beer by the hot dog stand, looking bored. Wasting no time, I went up to him and said "Hey, can I get a picture?" I showed him my awesome Sony Ericsson phone, to clarify what I meant. Quickly, and without much thought he responded in a British accent with a slight lisp (another clear sign that it was indeed the pumpkin faced Murray.) "No mate, I'm not Dave from Iron Maiden." At first, I thought he was joking. I hadn't even said who I thought he was, and yet he knew I wanted a picture with "Dave from Iron Maiden." I said "Ah come on. I have a new phone, I want a picture." He looked at my phone and said "Nah, everyone thinks I'm Dave Murray...but I'm not. Sorry mate." Perhaps he was offended by my crappy phone? I didn't know what to make of his response. Did all British people seriously say "mate" that much? I was confused.




At this point, there was little I could do. The people I was with were looking at me from afar, wondering what was going on. I had to walk away, and forget the whole thing. So I did, or at least I tried to. As I left the large shadow that his huge head created (sans picture), I heard a female voice say "Oh my god, are you Dave Murray!", I then heard Dave respond "Oh yes I am!" I turned around to see Dave hugging two forty-something moms in leather pants, posing for a picture with them. I stood there in disbelief. Apparently Dave was not aware of the motto that all men should abide by. Bros before Hos. After he posed for a picture with them, he talked to them briefly and took them through a gate into the backstage area. Although I fully understood that he had a sudden man-urge and needed to be with these aging metal mamas, I was also aware of how badly I had just been blown off. I briefly pictured the aging women kissing his acne scars, as well as the crackling sound that his brittle hair made as the leather clad rednecks ran their hands through it. I was pissed. When I got back to our group of friends I retold the story, and they all laughed at me. Perhaps what made it worse was that I wanted the picture as a joke. I was not a mad fan who had to have a picture with Mr Tortilla face, I just wanted a funny picture I could send to friends. Half an hour later, Maiden hit the stage...and there was Dave Murray, wearing the Maiden shirt, spandex pants and boots I had just seen him wearing as he escorted the ladies into his love lair.




To this day, when I see a picture of Dave Murray I recoil in horror, and not just because of his Garbage Pail Kids-like bulbous face, his acne scars or his receding hairline. I recoil because like the street vendor, he managed to mock me for no reason at all...when in reality I'm clearly higher up in the food chain than both of them. I mean, aren't I? Perhaps not. Perhaps both stories actually prove that I'm below both of them in the grand scheme of things...and maybe that's why I'm so pissed.

Because I'm still confused about this ordeal, and I don't know how to end this post, I will leave you with this video of the "manualist" playing some Maiden. He's really just an extra from The Sopranos sitting on his camouflage couch in Jersey, but perhaps he can help us all reach some closure. Enjoy.

Retroview: Crazytown discography

Introduction
Many of us look back on the late 90s with a mixture of horror, disgust, and amusement. After all, those are the years that brought us Lincoln Park, Korn, Limp Bizkit, Kid Rock, and legions of other bands that combined the most annoying and ignorant aspects of white trash and poor black people. By now, most readers of Metal Inquisition will already know where I'm headed with this- I love all those bands! The late 90s were SWEET! They produced Mandy Moore, Christina Augilera, Blink-182 and Jordan Knight's comeback song, all of which are still totally great. But maybe the very best of late 90s douche rock was Crazytown, and it's time that Metal Inquisition gave them their due!

But first, on the future of the media business...
If you read gay, shitty magazines like Wired, they will tell you that physical media are dead. They'll say that nobody buys CDs anymore, that digital distribution is the future. They couldn't be more wrong. I am listening to pirated Guttural Secrete MP3s as I type this, but when it comes to bands you really love, you want to own the physical artifact. I definitely love Crazytown, so before I wrote this, I hopped on eBay and picked up the entire CxT discography, for a grand total of 74 cents. I know what you're thinking: I got ripped off! But not so fast: both CxT albums were 1 cent each, although I had to pay 72 cents for Shifty's solo album. I'm not sure what makes that one worth 36 times more than the other two put together, but valuation of physical assets is kind of a black art that I don't totally understand, so I was OK with paying top dollar to get these albums that mean so much to me.

The Gift of Game (1999)
The cover of this album has some hottie on it sucking on a lollipop, I guess because they want you to imagine her performing oral sex, and that makes you think about her having a penis in her mouth instead of a lollipop. I have a hard time getting aroused by her, though, because she combines every awful 90s trend into a single image: tribal tattoos, excessive piercings, Betty Page hair, arched eyebrows, and I'm guessing she's wearing Mudd jeans, even if you can't see them. In any case, you probably only know the hit single "Butterfly," but actually this record is packed with sick jams from top to bottom.



My favorite song is "Darkside," which showed the world that Crazytown was versatile, going from tender ballads like "Butterfly" to uptempo rockers like this song. In case you thought CxT didn't know anything about rock, Shifty's lyrics in "Darkside" namecheck the Circle Jerks, Bad Brains, Sex Pistols and all kinds of other ill shit:

Nasty na na, ha, ha
Darkside marijuana.
Fueled of the drama.
Drifting on the darkside.
I’m the black eye bomber.
Do what I do on a darkside
Rendezvous.
Raising hell, out the shell.
Of fantasies I never tell.
Dispersin’ untamed perversion.
My bad brain’s working,
Circle jerking, rocking riddles,
Sex pistol, sexperts
Acting uncivil.

Damn, son!! That shit got me almost as excited as when I saw Mark McGrath wearing a Circle Jerks shirt in Sugar Ray's video for "Answer The Phone." If that wasn't enough for you, click here for a really good live version of "Darkside."



The album closes with "B-Boy 2000," which is an awesome rap/rock thingamajig featuring KRS-ONE (famous for declaring that the "li-bary" is "where they bury the lies!"). I really like the song, but there is one part I wish they would have changed. I know Shifty isn't strong in terms of quantitative methods (I mean, if he even has a GED I'd be pretty amazed), but when he drops the line "Destroying MCs with my vocal algebra," I wish that he would have said something like "vocal differential equations" or even just "verbal Lagrangian relaxation." It just sucks because I don't think he realizes that a reasonably smart 7th grader should have a pretty good handle on algebra, you know? On the other hand, I think even his staunchest critics would be quite impressed if he could, for example, uncover arbitrage opportunities with simply his lyrics!



Darkhorse (2000)
This is the album that helped me realize that I was a douchebag. More specifically, I saw that I started out as an ironic douchebag that just listened to CxT for a joke, but had become an honest-to-god, authentic douchebag that seriously liked them. I remember the moment as though it was yesterday. I was lifting weights, and the song "Skulls and Stars" from this album came on my iPod, and I thought to myself, "Man, the lyrics to this song are really good! I can't believe I used to laugh at this band, they're seriously good." Then I thought, "Holy shit, I just flexed in the mirror while telling myself that Crazytown is a great band. What have I become?!" I'd like to think that Shifty would have been proud of me. He'd be all, "Fuck it dude, it doesn't matter what anybody thinks. People told us we were crazy for combining rock and rap, but we flipped the script on those fools. Don't even trip, fuck the haters, bro!" He's right. You can laugh at me and Shifty if you want, but just remember: they called Galileo a fool, too!

As far as the cover goes, it depicts what seems to be the same girl from their first album, only now she has a better haircut, wings, and she looks really tired. I don't get it, but I'm sure that Shifty and Epic have a hella deep explanation for every detail in the image. They always do, sort of like on Miami Ink how some self-absorbed sorostitute will come in and ask for a tattoo of a dolphin on her hip, then drone on for 20 minutes about what it symbolizes.



Split 7" with Paul Oakenfold (2003?)
After their second album, Crazytown released a three-way split 7" with Paul Oakenfold and Psycho on Ax/Ction Records featuring the single "Starry Eyed Surprise." I first heard it in a Coke commercial that they played at the theater before some movie (this is also how I discovered Forever The Sickest Kids- yay Movietunes). It is possibly the ultimate summer jam, right up there with "Steal My Sunshine."


Shifty - Happy. Love. Sick. (2004)
First, here is a review I wrote for Rolling Stone of Shifty's solo effort:

Upon initial contact with Shifty's music, I had envisioned him to be an ill-mannered and psychologically unstable man with an extremely uneducated and barbaric frame of mind, whose raps displayed nothing but ridiculous jargon, shocking sexual audacity and repulsive images of the ghetto.

However, after further analysis of his music I can deduce that he is the epitome of antidisestblishmentarianism who embodies the entire spectrum of the urban experience and struggle.

But to make things more plain and simple to the layman, I find Shifty to be the dopest, flyist, O.G. pimp hustler gangster player hardcore motherfucker living today. To be honest I'm totally and irrevocably on his dick.

Anyway, here are a couple of things I bet you didn't know about Shifty and CxT:

• DJ AM, most known for banging Nicole Richie, was CxT's DJ on their first record (lolz @ his credibility if anybody finds out about that)
• Shifty appeared in the film Clifford with Martin Short

Closing thoughts
I have come to terms with the fact that I seriously like Crazytown. At first I thought it would be funny to listen to them as a post-ironic bit, like "Hay guyz I like the absolute worst band on the planet, look at me!" And it is pretty funny in that context. But like I said earlier, I turned the corner, and I honestly like their music. I seriously think their first album is really catchy and fun and I am kind of mad that I never saw them live.

Not only that, but I feel like Shifty and I could definitely have a bromance after seeing him on Celebrity Rehab. He needs someone like me in his life to help him chill out and focus on what's really important. Maybe we could start doing yoga or something, then have some hella deep conversations at the juice bar afterwards, I don't know.

An enchanting and hella gothic Fall playlist

Here at the Metal Inquisition compound, it's beginning to get a bit chilly. The duck pond behind Building C should freeze over soon, which is our informal signal that winter is upon us. And as the seasons change, so do the contents of our iPods. Here is what I listen to in the fall:

Evanescence
Amy Lee is definitely not that hot, especially when she's on the chubbier side (see above- yikes!!), but would I? You bet. Even when her muffin top spills out the bottom of her corset. Also, they have many, awesome, hella gothic songs that fill me with angst. I love to walk around the food court at the mall listening to "My Immortal" and thinking about how I am completely alone in the world, spending every ounce of my energy to hold myself back from slashing my wrists and kissing this vicious world goodbye. Then I will go to Auntie Anne's for a pretzel and wash it down with a venti Frappucino. In any case, Evanescence are totally sweet and thank god they kicked out the dumb fat guy that used to sing with Amy.



Never Enough
Gothic mall rock is a great soundtrack for fall, and the perfect complement is hella gothic industrial mall metal. Never Enough is an awesome band with 2 people from 18 Visions doing their best to channel Marilyn Manson and Nine Inch Nails. If you liked the last 18V record then you will love this band. When I listen to Never Enough, I want to put on fingerless fishnet gloves, turn out all the lights, and embrace the darkness while I watch Nightmare Before Christmas and cut myself. Don't forget to watch this tour of the drummer's hella gothic apartment in hella gothic Irvine, CA!


Lacuna Coil
Holy shit, could Cristina Scabbia be any hotter? If I met her, I would say "Ciao bella," take her hand, and give it a single kiss as I looked deeply into her eyes. She would giggle, a little emabarrased by my forwardness, but she would also be enchanted by my traditional, European manner of courtship. Then we would have sex. Anyhow, Lacuna Coil are an excellent band but they suffer from the same thing as Evanescence. Namely, the lame, ugly douchebag that sings sometimes. They should consider smothering him with a pillow on the tour bus. Nobody will miss him, and it's one less mouth to feed on tour. Perhaps Gene Hoglan's Balls will continue the discussion of Lacuna Coil by posting some good Italian phrases for me to say to Cristina.



Moevot
There is nothing like some good dark/black ambient on a cold fall morning. Abruptum are the masters of the genre, but they're a little too aggro for fall if you ask me. I enjoy listening to the melancholy, obscure strains of Moevot as the temperature drops and my soul becomes steeped in misery, depression, and self-hatred. At first I am afraid of what I feel, then I begin to welcome the cold touch of darkness! I become a creature of the night, and to show the world that I have emerged from my dark cocoon, I must transform myself into an elegant gothic aristocrat:

I am not sure exactly what elegant gothic aristocrats do when they're not shopping for top hats, but I am pretty certain that I can't listen to wigger slam or pornogrind anymore, so I took all the Gut and Soils of Fate songs off my iPod. I replaced them with songs from the Mana Khemia and Persona 3 soundtracks, added Dir En Grey to my Myspace friends, and started reading Shojo Beat. I think I am off to a good start!


That's all, folks
That concludes my Fall playlist. What are your favorite, hella gothic jams for the season??