If there's one thing that all of us at Metal Inquisition love, it would have to be the first Crash Test Dummies album. Aside from that, we are all united by our love of footage featuring high-ranking figures in the metal world performing amazing physical feats. It's with that in mind that I present you with this long-awaited footage: Nocturno Culto popping a wheelie.
Not to be outdone, Fenriz posed for this picture as quickly as he could.
Much in the way that the original Saved By The Bell brought us Saved By The Bell, The College Years, Metal Inquisition is now producing yet another spinoff. Not content with having to limit my cycling content to mere pictures of bloodied men wearing lycra, I have decided to start my own forum for such non-metal content. Look, I fully understand that most (if not all) of you have no interest in men with shaved legs wearing colorful jerseys that are skin tight...and really, who can blame you?
Although I don't believe that my predilection for this unusual sport has tainted my work here at MI, I do believe I stand a better chance of getting free crap by starting another blog purely devoted to cycling. Okay, I'm kinda' joking about getting free stuff. Anyway, this new blog's name is (drumroll please) Cycling Inquisition. I know, I know...it's an insanely lame name for a blog. I couldn't think of anything else, and thought I could greatly benefit from the brand equity that we have created here at MI. Much like Billy Milano decided to name his band MOD after having been in SOD...I have decided to rip off the blog's name. I'm the Billy Milano of the blog world...ehhhh...lame. Please don't point out how the name doesn't make any sense, because I know it doesn't. I just couldn't think of anything else. Although I guess it kinda' makes sense...if you assume that I want to convert the entire world into cyclists or cycling fans...which is not true at all...since I couldn't possibly care less. Still, if any of you have a better name, tell me and I'll gladly change it.
So, like a phoenix rising from the ashes, I shall be reborn and hope to bring the very few who may follow me some amusing content. Needless to say, I'm not leaving MI at all. Metal is in my blood, and I can never turn my back from it. As such, I will do double duties and attempt to bring the world even more of my hilarious insight...the type of insight and commentary that keeps you all coming back. Cheers.
In my ongoing effort to make people see how cycling is very metal, I've created yet another fake Mayhem record cover. This one features an image that was sent in by one of our readers. In case you're wondering, the badly translated name of this album is "this dude fell during a crit, and his bloody knuckles messed up his SRAM shifters." I ran it through an online Norwegian translator to make it even more kvlt. I know what you're thinking, I could have used one of those pictures of Jens Voigt after his crash..but that would be tasteless. I got to shake his hand and fawn over him this summer in Andorra...so now we are like best budz, and I won't do that to the man. Still, a reader requested it...so here it goes. The name of this album is "Jens Voigt busted his god damned face." If you don't get why these images are funny, perhaps you've never seen the original Mayhem record cover...or perhaps you think my sense of humor is horrible. I would certainly understand that too.
Okay, this is the official beginning of the post:
This past weekend, I found myself at a rather pleasant ice cream shop with Mrs. Lucho Metales and fellow MI staffer Gene Hoglan's Balls. Aside from being known for their delicious ice cream, this place is also known for having highly unusual toppings such as bacon, wasabi peas and salmon. Although I doubt that anyone actually gets these toppings, since they would probably taste horrible with any ice cream, the mere idea of it certainly ads to the charm of the place. When selling an out-of-town guest on the idea of going there, I'll say "they have great ice cream, and you can get wacky toppings like bacon." Friends are usually revolted by the idea, but then will say "sounds cool, let's go." Similarly, I know that many find the posts that have anything to do with cycling on this blog to be a bit like the bacon topping. Most of you dislike the mere idea of it...but I hope that they add to the charm of the place. Also, what else am I going to post about? Tom G. Warrior's appendectomy?
So why a post with a cycling picture? Because the Vuelta A España started on Saturday, the last of the three Grand Tours of cycling. On the one hand, this is sad news, because it means that the summer (and the pro cycling season) is almost over. On the other hand, it means that my Dark Angel and Celtic Frost long sleeve shirts will be making their first official appearances this year....a real highlight for me, and all the ladies in town who are no doubt amazed by my fashion sense. It also means I'll get to ride wearing those ridiculous lobster gloves, and will thus get made fun of some more by strangers. Still, this all gives us the opportunity to take a closer look at Spain's metal output once again...and no, I'm not just going to write about Baron Rojo and their receding hairlines. Like punching a baby in the face, it's just way too easy.
I'm also not going to make stupid cycling/music references that only two people in the world will get...that would be retarded. For example, I will NOT be pointing out how the drummer in Earth Crisis looks exactly like America's cycling semi-sensation Christian Vande Velde.
But seriously...don't they look exactly alike? They even have similar Coco Puff-like moles on their general nose areas. But anyway...what I'm here to do is to once again look at Spain's metal output, and I do mean look, since I'm certainly not going to take the time to listen to any of these horrible bands.
Question What's the difference between this guy and the pile of dog shit he unknowingly just sat on?
Answer The ill fitting t-shirt.
*As one of our readers pointed out...please notice the horribly stretched-out neck on this guy's t-shirt. Disgusting. Does he think he's in Flashdance?
Is this his best attempt at a cool metal pose for the picture on their album? No, this is the face you make, and the pose you hold when your venereal warts flare up.
Just look at his face, he knows that simply hitting that first chord in The Final Countdown can bring entire nations to their knees...so don't test him! He has a Korg X5D keyboard, and the sheet music to the entire Europe catalog...and he's NOT afraid to use it!
Inspired by the likes of Lacuna Coil, all young European bands are now forcing their nearly-attractive female cousins to join their bands. Due to a continent-wide shortage of Valtrex, these young women are often kept as slaves, and forced to sing for these bands in exchange for little more than a single dosage of the herpes medicine. On an unrelated note, please note the sweet eye make up on the guitar player. Alice Cooper? Juggalo? Black metal fan? We'll never know.
The all-brown outfit makes him look like the last shit I took. Check out his cigarrette, and the fact that he not only brought out his guitar, but also his guitar stand for this picture. This guy's middle name is: Commitment. His last name? That's easy: CreepyEuroRapist.
Speaking of creepy euro rapists...Andoni's hobbies include: polishing his throbbing, red, phallic guitar, and asking "you want to make sexy with me?" to unsuspecting American tourists. If said tourists respond with "no..get away from me you creepy euro", his hobbies will also include chasing them into their hostel and trying to seduce them by playing Joe Satriani riffs.
This is Juan's patented "I'm casting a spell on you" pose. Why do I get the sneaking suspicion that if these guys sang in English, the word "thrice" would be included somewhere in their lyrics? As in : "The fair maiden cast her spell upon me, not twice but thriiiice!" Lastly, can you imagine how disappointed you must be as a parent when your son comes home wearing a fucking pirate shirt like this one? The day he wore this home for the first time after buying it at the goth/pirate/s&m shop, his parents probably exhaled with extreme sadness and said "we'll be in our bedroom...awaiting the sweet release of death."
The upside of starting a band in a small town in Spain is that you will be an instant demi-star within the local scene. The downside is that there is a lack of musicians to choose from. It's for that reason that you'll always end up having to ask the local janitor with a slight case of cerebral palsy to join the band. What other choice do you have? He's the only guy in town who owns a drumset! So what if he drools while he does a wicked blastbeat? Hey, you have to break at least one egg to make an omelet.
Nothing, and I do mean NOTHING says "extreme metal power" like practicing Pantera riffs through a Peavy practice amp with a 10" speaker.
Apparently, being insanely unatractive while tucking in your shirt and pulling your pants up until your genitalia burns in agony is not just for members of Mythic anymore.
An unrelated example of the same look, which we here at MI lovingly refer to as "Metal Mama" Jeans
Once I decided upon "Back in the United States of America, God's country." as the title for this piece, I searched through my photo archives for an image that would best express what the USA embodies. As luck would have it, a picture of Donna Stewart-Barris (from Metal Inquisition's accounts payable department) was emailed to me right on time. The picture was taken during our annual company picnic, right after the raffle, during which Donna won a copy of Bolt Thrower's War Master album. Congratulations Donna!
After a thoroughly enjoyable trip to Europe in order to see the Tour de France, I'm now safely back home in the US of A. As a result of Metal Inquisition being a journalistic forum that is devoted to horrible music and not sports, I'll give you only a couple of details about the trip. Why only a few details? Because I don't want to turn off the few remaining readers we have as a result of the stream of posts having slowly dwindled into a trickle in the last month. Oh, and in case you're wondering, yes, Mr Skullkrusher and I did make it on to the TV broadcast of the Tour de France. Simply watch every five hour stage of the last two weeks and look for us. Good luck.
Most healthy adults are able to let go of the silly thoughts and dreams they had as children. That is simply not the case for my brother and me. Sometimes you simply HAVE to do things that the 11 year old version of you would have thought were the shit. The idea of Jens Voigt and Thor Hushovd riding their bikes over an Iron Maiden logo at the Tour de France was simply intoxicating...and as such...we made it happen! Hooray for the 11 year old versions of us! We did it!!! Fuckin-a!
Just last week, I spent a very pleasant afternoon with Mr Bike Snob NYC, who is truly a scholar and a gentleman. As we conversed about the unstoppable freight train of metal schlock that was/is Morbid Angel, I suddenly remembered something that I had long ago put away in the dark recesses of my mind. In the early and mid 90s, I attended a couple of shows in which the audience suddenly began to seig heil. If I remember correctly, this happened in both a Morbid Agnel show (perhaps as a result of David Vincent's very tasteful, and period-appropriate SS uniform) as well as several Slayer shows. Did anyone else experience this during that time? Was it just confined to the area of the country where I lived back then? By the way, don't be a smartass and respond that you saw it once at a Skrewdriver show...that doesn't count. That's a bit like saying that you once got sprayed with feces at a GG Allin show...I mean...while it might be mildly amusing, it's pretty much par for the course.
When you start shopping in the inner-tube section of the Sears website for clothing, you know something's gone horribly wrong.
Every time I mention David Vincent, I'm obligated by law to post a picture of his new persona, Evil D. Boy, it's not often that you find yourself saying "You know, I think you looked better in the SS uniform" __________________________________________________________________
Although I've always been amazed by how similar time travel and flying to Europe are, since they both allow you to see un-ironic metalheads in all their glory (complete with denim vests, white hightops, sweatpants etc), I'm saddened to report that in this latest trip, the number of metalhead sightings was way down. I'm sure other cities, and countries in Europe could perhaps offer more in the banger-watching (as I refer to it) department. But see, in the past, Barcelona always managed to deliver the goods. But not this time. The city is now split into two camps, tourists, and locals who appear to be sponsored by retailing giant Zara. So, aside from the guy who was wearing a Bathory shirt AND flip flops on the metro, I failed to see any of my brothers in metal during the trip. By the way, how un-metal can you get? Flip-flops on a black metal fan? If the fact that Gaahl from Gorgoroth is now officially out of the closet, and that Nicolas Cage's kid has black metal band weren't already signs of black metal's demise....the flip flops/ Bathrory shirt combo surely must be.
An unexpected treat about seeing the Tour de France in Barcelona was being able to see both cycling and architecture simultaneously, since the Tour's route went right by Mies van der Rohe's Barcelona Pavillion. This was an unexpected, and almost debaucherous treat for an absolute looser like me. What would have made the experience better you ask? Well, if Mike Browning and Nocturnus would have descended onto the site on their spaceship and broken into Lake Of Fire...my life would have been so complete, that I would have gone ahead and committed harakiri right then and there. Luckily for our readers, Mike Browning and Nocturnus never showed up....something about Mike having to go to Pier 1 because of a sale on pseudo Egyptian decor.
Look, I know I've posted this video before...but for some reason I woke up reciting this verbatim today...and as such, I had to share it with all of you once again. What can I say, some things never get old.
If you were able to watch the video above for its full duration, you'll be happy to know that Devry Universtiy will award you three credit hours towards an associates degree in Comparative Religion through their online program. Simply enter the code "MTLINQSTN" in the "coupons" field when you are checking out.
As I've mentioned before, a fun game to play with friends and family is to come up with a word and then draw a super-evil metal logo for it. The more ridiculous the word, the better. Although I would now play this game as a bit of a joke (drawing a black metal logo for a word like "custard" is always fun), I have found proof that I didn't always do it in jest. Hidden among many other treasures, the Metal Inquisition archives revealed perhaps the earliest known example of this game being played. Much like the cave paintings of Lascaux, these logos will be studied by art historians and anthropologiests for year to come. Carbon-14 dating has helped us estimate that this particular sheet of paper is from the summer of 1991. Please note the "Abnegation" logo, a word I remember having found in the dictionary by mere chance. My use of this word as a made-up name for a non-existent band greatly pre-dates its use as the actual name of an actual band. As a result, I believe I may have a lawsuit here. Sadly, I think the settlement would come down to me getting 152 unsold copies of the band's 7"s. Much like getting smallpox infested blankets, this would be a settlement I could easily live without. So, on second thought, they can keep the name.
One last picture from my trip to Europe. This picture was taken at a small bike shop near Plaça d'Espanya in Barcelona. Upon seeing the brand name of this bike, many ask themselves "who would come up with such a name?" Well, I have an answer to this question...or at least a clue as to who would do such a thing. You see, on a daily basis, I'm called a "fag" by numerous drivers as I ride my bike. This happens every hour, on the hour, and the US military now uses these driver outbursts to set its atomic clock.
As I see it, the bike's brand name simply functions as a pre-emptive strike on the part of the bike's owner. Much like the fat kid in school who always made fun of himself before anyone could lay a fat joke on him, this bike proudly states that the guy riding the bike knows what the drivers around him think.
"Oh, you're calling me a 'fag'...joke's on you pal. I'm riding on a Qüer bike...I'm already a step ahead of you, you douche!"
While not particularly effective, this interaction makes the person riding the bike a bit better...and less like...well, a "fag". It's for this reason that the company's name was clearly thought of by a marketing genius...or a fat guy, or a fat guy who is gay and got made fun of in school.
One last note...while this approach of mocking yourself before letting someone else do it may work for adults...I would highly, highly discourage you from getting a Qüer bike for your kid...because really, that's the last thing they need.
Now that I'm back home after a rather crazy month of traveling, I'll try to get back to my normal posting schedule. Hopefully the other slobs who are supposed to be posting will also pick up the slack, damn those bastards.
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.
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."
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?
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.
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
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.
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?
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.
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!
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.
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.
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.
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."
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.
"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."