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.

Screamo crunk comes to life: BrokeNCYDE / Hollywood Undead show review

If you're lucky, I'll summon the will to go to the upcoming Kottonmouth Kings show

It's no secret that I love screamo crunk, so you can imagine how excited I was when I saw that Hollywood Undead were playing... and with the infamous BrokeNCYDE of all bands!! It's like a dream come true! In case you couldn't see them in your town, here's my review of the show so you can live vicariously through me and have a little piece of the BC13 magic.

This is when they were chanting something about "Brokencyde, suck my dick."

BrokeNCYDE

BrokeNCYDE (aka BC13) opened the show and I was completely fucking stoked to see them. Since some you guys seem confused about this, I like BC13 about half-ironically, depending on the mood I'm in. If I'm wasted and either hanging out with a girl or about to be, I'm pretty into them. If I'm sober and acting like a grown up I can't really handle them. In any case, they started at 7:00PM and I was already fairly drunk because I'd been waiting around the venue for an hour and a half with nothing to do. Well, nothing to do except drink and talk to whatever girls were around who looked like I wouldn't go to prison if I said hi to them. I was hoping to at least get the chance to eyefuck some trainwreck scene girls, but I really didn't see any girls at all that were particularly hot. Kind of disappointing.

You have probably seen the video for "Freaxxx," but this song ("Get Crunk") is even more awesome/retarded

We ended up chatting up a mom/daughter pair that my friend was pretty into. The mom gave me her number. I wasn't really feeling it, but my friend was trying to feel her daughter. I also ended up getting some other girl's number, she was some 27 year-old midwest type with recently-installed fake tits (which I felt after she said "Feel them, they feel fake as shit!!"). She was cool enough but you know the type... she had on a Hurley sweatshirt or something, American Eagle jeans, and white Nike running shoes (not cool ones), and I can't handle that. Still, I did feel her tits so that counts for something.

My friend with the mom/daughter combo

When they started playing I felt like all my dreams were coming true all at once!! I seriously couldn't believe that it was actually happening. I mean, BC13 is basically the most ridiculous pop culture phenomenon of all time, and was just like "Holy fuck, this is actually happening!! This isn't just a dumb internet joke, this band really exists and these kids are 100% non-ironic!" As much as I wish I could pretend to be completely non-ironic here, I realized that I was on a different level than these kids who clearly had no idea that there was anything ridiculous about Brokencyde. With lyrics like these, I have a hard time seeing how that's possible, but it's true:

I can tell by the way she licks her lips.
That we're going to fuck tonight!
OMG I can not live like this.
Will someone take my life!
Here's a knife, go ahead and slice my wrist.
I'm not emo, but I'd rather be dead then with this bitch!!!

Pick up your pants girl!
We're not drunk enough to get it on.
I need viagra!
Cause you're too ugly to turn me on.
I saw your picture.
My Myspace has never done me wrong.
Until tonight girl. You're not my type girl!!!

The other thing that occurred to me is that BC13 represents a changing of the guard in that the kids have finally figured out how to make music that offends and disgusts a generation of people who grew up listening to bands with names like Millions of Dead Cops, Regurgitation, Carcass, Ulcerous Phlegm, etc. I used to jam the Meatshits or whatever and think to myself, "Man, I have no idea how anybody could top this stuff, but I know someone will. I don't know how they'll manage to offend me and my peers, but I know they will." Well, now I know how, and I am happy I got to witness it live! It's pretty fun to google for Brokencyde and read everybody's clueless, butthurt comments about them, but this is only person I've found who actually gets it:

God - spare me the hate spewing “critics”! This music is not about listening to seasoned professional musicians. It’s about these young guys who put sounds together with a keyboard and computer and came up with something cool. It’s about dance beats, trash talking and having a good time. It’s raunchy, sexual, I’m sure it’s making parents toes curl around the world, AND it’s leaving people like you scratching your head saying “wtf?”. Sounds to me like a recipe for success. The next generation is ready to embrace “their” shocker. Posts like this only helps to solidify that perception.

Like you, the Christian retard who sings for Senses Fail (who played this show with BC13) sounds like a confused grandparent when he talks shit on his tourmates:

Yeah, I slam them every night because in no way, shape or form do I back anything they do or say and I am embarrassed that kids these days are into it and am sad that kids these days are exposed to it. There is absolutely no substance whatsoever in their songs and no passion in anything they do. It is the musical equivalent of a snow cone, bland tasting frozen tap water loaded with sugar, yet colorful, that will give you a brain freeze, melt all over your hands leaving yourself dissatisfied and sticky.

Yes, he is a dumb Christian who obviously hates fun, but he does have a point when he says that there is no passion. I have to admit I was pretty disappointed in their live performance. First of all, they were just wearing baggy t-shirts and unremarkable jeans. Where were the alt-bro shutter shades, the neon parkas, the purple skinny jeans?! I paid for a spectacle, dammit! They went through the songs fairly lifelessly. I'll be honest, I didn't find their performance to be particularly crunk. The kid on the left fiddled with knobs on their drum machine or whatever, and the other two guys rapped lethargically.

The guy on the left, holy fuck... he's got a face made for radio.

It might not have been their best show, but I'm still pretty stoked that I'll always be able to say I witnessed BC13 in the flesh!! In 17 years or so, when everybody is nostalgic for this shit, I can start a blog called "Scene Inquisition" and tell dumb stories about the time I saw a dude from The Devil Wears Prada at Starbucks (this happened last summer).

I don't have pictures of these bands so here is this one instead. Sup ladies.

Haste the Day / Senses Fail
I barely remember these bands, I was at the bar most of their sets. The only thing I remember is spin kicking and punching some kids 90s moshcore style, which I didn't recall until I woke up the next morning with bruised knuckles. They were pretty good if you're into Christian moshcore... I mean they're no Strongarm, Focal Point or Crucified, and definitely not Unashamed (so fucking good!), but they were a good diversion.

Apologies for the blurry photo, but it pretty accurately captures how I felt and my fuzzy memories of the night

Hollywood Undead
Now here is a band that I like 100% non-ironically. OK maybe like 98% non-ironically... but you get the point. I don't like anything 100% non-ironically, not even Pantera. I interviewed Funny Man (one of the guys in Hollywood Undead), but he pressed the button on my voice recorder that erased the recording, so I don't have that to add to this post. He was a cool guy and the interview was fun, basically we just talked about how dumb it is when people hate on the West Coast, especially Southern California. Also, he said that while Brokencyde might get more ass on tour, Hollywood Undead get higher-quality ass. I didn't witness anything to confirm or deny it, but it seems like it would be true to me. I didn't really talk to any of the other guys in the band for more than a second, but they seemed cool too.

I played this song for my friend at work a while ago, and she said "Wow they wrote a song about your life."

Their set was super fun and I had a great time, but I have to be honest... after witnessing the postmodern, mash culture extravaganza that is BC13, anything short of Mila Kunis proposing to me would have been a letdown. They opened with "Undead," played most of the record, and closed with "Everywhere I Go." I went home, changed clothes, and went to some DIY show at a warehouse where I drank more, unsuccessfully tried to chat up some indie girl, and drew graffiti in my friend Chris' book until 3 or something when I passed out. All in all, one of the best nights I've had in years!

Listening to Metallica: Straight out TORTURE

Last week James Hetfield, the skater teen, turned middle-aged redneck, made some statements about "Enter Sandman" being used to torture prisoners in Guantamo Bay. He said "Part of me is proud is because they chose Metallica". Uhm... James, what the military is basically telling you is that your music is SO BAD, playing it to prisoners being tortured is a good idea. Do you get it? Listening to Metallica is torture! "Enter Sandman" is such a bad song that prisoners would rather be water boarded than put up with 5 more seconds of that shit. I guess this guy Mohammed al-Qahtani said that listening to the track while being tortured brought him to tears. No joke. This guy actually cried when he heard Metallica! Shit, I have never cried while listening to Enter Sandman, but I have cried during The Unforgiven. That song is fucking terrible. James "Jed Clampett" Hetfield went on to say that he thought maybe the torture technique worked, not because Metallica's music sucked, but because "It represents something that [terrorists] don't like — maybe freedom, aggression…" Hello?! Earth calling James! These people are accused of being terrorists, "aggression" is sorta part of the job!

Our favorite NRA member has not aged well.

In any case, I'm glad the US of A is still kicking terrorists' asses the best way they know how. (please add sarcastic tone to the last sentence.) The one thing I'd suggest to the brave soilders in Cuba doing all that torturing is that next time they should just use songs from St. Anger. Shit, if they had me tied down and threaten to play the whole CD, I'd confess to some shit. I'd make up stuff just to get them to push the stop button.

This is the James I'll remember forever.

Hmmm...come to think of it, St. Anger, Load and Re-load are probably on a list in the Geneva Protocol, forbidding countries from using them as torture. I wonder how long it's gonna take them to add Death Magnetic to the list. It's that bad, believe me.

Long gone are the days of bullet belts, cheap beer, Venom shirts, skateboards, awesome riffs, intelligence and common sense.

Well, James "Cowardly Lion" Hetfield finished his eloquent statement with: "We've got nothing to do with this and we're trying to be as apolitical as possible." I guess "Disposable Heroes", "And Justice for All" and the whole "Don't Tread on Me" thing is not very political? Metallica stopped being "political" around the same time they stopped being metal.

Rock and Roll never die: My glam favorites

As much as I love wigger slam, glam might be my second favorite genre of metal. When I was 20 or so, I had a glam phase that lasted a few years and I got pretty into this stuff, and I still jam it on the regular. The way I see, there are two kinds of glam: the harder-edged, less melodic stuff like, say Whitesnake, Bulletboys or Hurricane, and the super poppy, bubblegum style as popularized by Poison- basically the Archies with big hair. I definitely prefer the bubblegum side of things, although I'll put on some Badlands now and then for a change of pace.

Anyhow, here are a few of my favorites- I'll skip the obvious stuff like Crue, Kix, and 18 Visions. Some of you fossils know a lot of this stuff I'm sure, so please chime in with your favorites! Also, did you ever notice that Mark McGrath is wearing a Circle Jerks shirt at the beginning of the video for "Answer the Phone" by Sugar Ray? I love that song.

PBF then...

...and now. Which is worse? You be the judge.

Pretty Boy Floyd
Let's start with the best. In my opinion PBF were the finest of all the glam bands, but they came just a bit too late to make it. They essentially took the Poison formula and, like Boyz II Men, smoothed it out on the pop tip and perfected the bubblegum glam style. In much the same way as the Japanese are the masters of taking some Western idea, hyper-stylizing it to the Nth degree, and spitting it back out, PBF were the absolute peak of huge hair, huge hooks, and awesome image. Unfortunately, they are still together, only they're all old and fat. And whatever you do, don't watch Kristy Majors' video for his solo stuff. It will make you cry and slit your wrists. 40 year old men aren't supposed to shop in the girls' section of Hot Topic (although I have to admit, the chorus is pretty fucking awesome). On the other hand, Steve Summers' post-PBF band Shameless were excellent and substantially less embarrassing.





Tuff
To me, Tuff were the ultimate poor man's Crue (along with Vain, but they weren't nearly as good). They tried so, so hard to make it, but just couldn't ever break out of the pages of Metal Edge and into the big time. It's probably because they were extremely generic and the singer looked like Jamie Presley, but they had their moments. Although they were best known for their single "I Hate Kissing You Goodbye," I love "All New Generation," in which they tell the story of rock and roll's evolution from Elvis to the in-your-face antics of today's outrageous glam bands. It's hard to believe, but in spite of their outrageous appearance, Tuff were just a bunch of hard working boys from Arizona that wanted to play rock and roll like their heros.



Vixen
Just so you guys know the ladies can fuckin' rock too!! In case you don't believe me, just put in a Vixen tape. They were the perfect blend of leather and lace: hot as shit, but just a little bit vulnerable too. They'd break your heart in a second, but if you could get past that tough exterior, you just might fall in love!! To me, they were like the cleaned up version of Lita Ford. Lita was the white trash chick down the street that would blow you on the first date if you drove a Firebird. She was super hot in an "open for business" kind of way, but not really that great looking and definitely not the kind of chick you'd want to bring home to mom and dad. Vixen, on the other hand, were edgy, but you could tell they were good girls underneath all that makeup and hair, and that they were only acting tough because they'd been hurt so many times- if you could just get through to them, they'd be true to you forever! Here is "The Edge of a Broken Heart," written by Richard Marx.



Vinnie Vincent
I worked at OfficeMax when I was 18 or something, and I met this guy who used to manage Vinnie Vincent. Needless to say, I asked him tons of retarded questions. He was cool and took it all in stride even though I'm sure I was incredibly annoying. Anyway, Vinnie was second only to Michael Angelo in terms of balls out shredding and looking like a transvestite prostitute. Mark Slaughter's vocals were the perfect complement to Vinnie's fretboard masturbation, although he really came into his own in Slaughter- if the chorus to "Fly To The Angels" doesn't put a lump in your throat, you're dead to me!! What a heartbreaking tribute to a fallen cherub!!



Nitro
Let's be perfectly clear: If you don't like Nitro, you're not my fucking friend. Obviously Nitro are completely ridiculous, but I 100% non-ironically love this band as Skullkrusher and Lucho Metales can attest to. They had the biggest hair, the highest screams, the fastest solos, and the sickest riffs. I can listen to "OFR" a million times in a row. Also, the liner notes and lyrics are priceless, like the note that admonishes "DRUGZ R 4 DUMBFUKKS, DON'T BE A DUMBFUKK." Everything about the band is totally absurd, but their songwriting is fucking awesome and the retarded lyrics just make me love them than much more.

For bonus laughs, check out drummer Bobby Rock's erotic stories and vegan bodybuilding tips. If there is a bigger tool on the face of the earth, I haven't come across him- Bobby Rock makes Vinnie Paul seems positively dignified.




Ugly Kid Joe
As many of you will surely know, UKJ's name is a parody of Pretty Boy Floyd. Now I know what you're thinking- UKJ aren't so much glam as just generic hard rock/lite metal. And you would be right, because as they say in my favorite song, "Whiplash Liquor," "We ain't glam and we ain't thrash, just suburban white alcoholic trash."

Required attire for listening to As Ugly As They Wanna Be

I am also guessing that out of all the hated bands I have posted in this blog, Ugly Kid Joe is perhaps the most hated and least credible. But your opinions mean nothing to me. If you don't like Ugly Kid Joe, you are a fool and should throw yourself on a sword because you obviously do not like to fucking party. You clearly love misery. Unlike you, I avoid misery, which is why I listen to Ugly Kid Joe, Scatterbrain, 311 and Sublime as much as possible.

Sometimes you just want to chillax, so you jam something fun like "America's Least Wanted" and it takes you back to the good old days of Stussy shirts, Baja jackets, and slap bass. It is like a time machine that will instantly transport you back to the days when you spent your after school hours hanging out behind a 7-11 or a gas station smoking pot, listening to the black album, and trying to slouch your Starter jacket in the raddest possible way. It's hard to find anything wrong with Ugly Kid Joe (as long as you forget about when Whitfield Crane joined Life of Agony).