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??

More Metal Tattoos From The Interweb

Thanks to the magic of search engines and the internet, we once again take you for a spin around the world of metal tattoos. Hold on tight, it's going to be a depressing and bumpy ride.



1. The line-up of bands on his leg is enough to make you gag.
2. The guy's disgusting hairy leg and crotch shot are enough to make you barf.
3. The fact that the guy is married (see wedding band) is enough to make you loose all hope and respect for women.

How many of you were surprised that the asshole who has this tattoo is wearing white hi-tops, and white ankle socks. Anyone? No? Good. I wasn't either.

This picture is proof that men are not only idiots, but also gross. Look at that disgusting armpit hair, or whatever body part that is. I've never felt so hetero in my life.

The Sarge and I saw Fear Factory some years ago in what was basically a midwestern parking lot. They played a Pantera song, and we both got the douche chills. This is the kind of tattoo that the dude who has it would show to the band members with great pride. The band members would then go "uh....wow...really? Sheesh. Wow."

Look, I know that the guy's dead and everything. It's sad, wah, wah, wah...but how big of a douche do you have to be to get this on your arm? I can just picture the guy getting it constantly reminding the tattoo dude "remember to make the goatee red, it's very important. I'm a huge fan of how he looked during the Far Beyond Driven years!"

This guy is my hero. I'm not being ironic. He's rad.

Late addition, suggested by a reader in the comments section. I don't even know where to start! The awful rendering with the fu-manchu mustache, the hat, the goatee, the pimples on Dimebag's forehead....oh and did I mention the Heavy Metal logo?

Who is the only person dumber than Max Cavalera? The guy who gets a tattoo of Max Cavalera.

Now this, my friends, is commitment. I would love to meet this guy and tell him "I'm a real Queensryche fan, not like you" just to watch his blood boil and his head blow up.





Any readers out there have band-related ink? Tell the truth, I know there's at least one Napalm Death or a Nasty Savage tattoo out there somewhere.

Chris Barnes: Stage Banter All-Star

Rare shot of Chris Barnes having a panic attack, after realizing that he doesn't make enough money to make the payments on his 1993 Toyota Tercel.

There was a time when Chris Barnes was taken half-seriously by some. That was before he started wearing JNCO jeans and track jackets. When you listen to his stage banter abilities (from his Cannibal Corpse days) you realize that the man was in fact a genius. Oh how the mighty have fallen.

My Guitar Pick Collection

Out of all the relics I still own from my golden years in the world of metal (1990-1995), I think my humble collection of guitar picks is both my favorite and most cringe-worthy. Here are the stories behind these picks.




I remember the Deicide show where I scored this priceless Glen Benton pick, they were touring for Legion. At the time, I loved Deicide but I was already aware of how silly they were, and I remember laughing as Glen growled "I smell a christian in the audience" between songs. This was the tour during which they started selling the tshirts that said "the killing of all that is holy" on the back. Nearly every redneck in the audience was rocking that shirt, and Glen was wearing that ridiculous mask during the first three songs or so. Remember that mask? It looked like something your mom would buy from the African decor section of Pier 1, or World Market to hang on the wall. In retrospect, the whole thing seems so incredibly ridiculous. To be fair, my going down on the beer soaked floor to find the pick Glen had thrown mid-song is just as ridiculous.

Here we see Glen's reaction upon hearing playback of what the bass drums sounded like in every Deicide album that was recorded at Morrisound.

Another Glen Benton story. My brother and I wrote a letter to Metal Maniacs back then and it was published. Because of that letter, we got lots of mail from people all over the country, including a few from people in prison. I guess those metal dudes in the slammer would, from time to time, get tired of raping each other and would write people whose addresses were printed in magazines. One guy wrote us from a prison in a nearby state, and sent us a photocopy of a drawing he had done of Glen Benton. I would give my left hand to have that drawing today. Anyway, along with that drawing he sent us two pictures, one of him and his creepy redneck/metal buddies in jail, and the second one was of him meeting Glen at the very show where I caught this pick. In the background of that picture, it was possible to see yours truly standing around staring at Glen Benton. Even though I remember thinking Glen was a douche at the time, the picture tells another story. I seem to be admiring the guy....so I guess my memory must be a bit cloudy.





This pick is from the first reunion tour the Misfits did in 1996. I remember hearing before the show that their new singer was called Michael Graves. I was psyched to see the leading Postmodernist architect and product designer singing for such an influential punk band. Sadly, it was not that Michael Graves. It was Michale Graves (note the spelling), and he turned out to be a dope, and a bit of a creep.

The guy I was hoping to see as the new singer of the Misfits

Anyway, before the show we saw a large crowd gathering in the club's parking lot. It looked like a fight was about to go down, but as we got closer we saw that it was something far more sinister. Members of the Misfits had a bench press on tour, and they were lifting as the small audience cheered them on and counted their reps. This is without a doubt the silliest moment in musical history.







This one barely has a story. I saw Gorefest play with Fear Factory, and I found this pick on the floor shortly after their set on the side of the floor in front of the bass player who was going through picks like Paul Stanley. I was bummed that the pick was a generic Duncan, and that I couldn't get the guy from Gorefest that threw it out to sign it. So I put the awful "GF" you see here in Sharpie. Aside form being a boring story, it's also a bit embarfassing.









My brother gave me this sweet Helloween guitar pick as a gift. It glows in the dark! That's no joke. The other side has the name "Markus" in a script typeface. Markus is Helloween's bass player. If you didn't know that, go punch yourself in the face six times. My brother got the pick, if I remember correctly, from a guy that worked at a guitar pick factory. What an awesome job...just sitting there inhaling plastic fumes all day, screening the Helloween pumpkin on guitar picks. Some guys have all the luck.





Fear Factory guitar pick that was given to me and signed by Dino Cazares. He helped my brother and I get in for free to this show by making us carry his guitars and pretending we were his roadies. Fear Factory had little pull in the world of metal back then, so he couldn't add us to the guest list. I remember him being really short. I also remember standing behind the drumset during Fear Factory's set and watching Raymond Herrera play with huge steel-toe construction boots. The man was a machine that night. A Mexican, boot-wearing, drumming machine.







I honestly don't remember seeing Panic play, though they may have played with Epidemic at some point. Those two bands were guilty pleasures of mine, since they were still playing somewhat melodic thrash during the height of the death metal years. They dressed like absolute dopes though, somewhere between Keanu Reeves in Bill and Ted's Excellent adventure, and those awkward metal kids in your school that tried to skate because they saw a picture of Scott Ian with a Variflex board somewhere.







This pick is perhaps the one that brings me the most shame. Signed by Obituary's bass player Frank Watkins, this may look like a simple pick to you...but it's not. It's a symbol of my stupidity. Obituary did a signing in a small, out of the way record store before their show that day. My brother and I went, and waited in line with a handful of people in order to get stuff signed. We had a couple of posters and pictures taken out of our more recent Metal Maniacs, and they were kind enough to sign everything. Since there were so few people there, we made some conversation with the guys, and they joked about having to sign old pictures of the band, back from when James Murphy was still in the band. I remember the drew horns on Murphy's head, and (I believe) wrote the word "fag" on his forehead. I have to find that poster to confirm this. In any case, my brother and I left and went towards the neighborhood where the show was. With hours to kill, we walked around until we saw the members of Obituary having lunch in a quiet restaurant. I waved to them, ans signaled that I wanted to come into the restaurant. The rest of the story is blury to me, but I swear that it's true. I remember sitting there, on the bench of a booth next to theirs basically watching them eat. I have no idea why I did this...it's so incredibly embarrassing to even think about. As much as I liked Obituary, they were certainly not a band I was absolutely nuts for in a Menudo sort of way, but this anecdote tells another story. I can't remember how long I was there, or if they talked to me at all during that time. I think I asked them some questions, and probably made awful attempts at conversation. I'm surprised they put up with me at all. From there, I honestly believe that I followed them to the venue and got to go backstage with them. I barely remember this, but I have proof...and that proof is the pick. I remember the guys being nice enough to sign picks for me (probably trying to get me to leave), and Donald Tardy gave me two signed sticks (which I still have), and I watched Obituary play from the side of the stage. Donald was hitting fantastic rimshots every time, and his playing was hypnotic. I'm amazed that I only remember small details of that day, but perhaps its for the best. Following Obituary around like they were the Spice Girls is something I'll never forget. But clearly, I actually have.










Another post-show find from the floor of a venue, this one had real meaning to me back in the day. I was a huge D.R.I. fan as a kid, and getting to see them live nearly blew my mind. They were opening for Testament during that tour, but where I lived they were booked as headliners. Their opening band was called The Legacy, which is a Testament song, and album and was their original name. It didn't take a genius to figure out Testament would be opening, but the hush-hush quality of that show still makes me scratch me head. I had heard of Metallica booking themselves unanounced in small clubs as The Four Horsemen. Megadeth, in an attempt to do everything Metallica has ever done, had often booked themselves as Vic And The Rattleheads. I could undersand the reason why a band that would normally play arenas or stadiums at one point having to use an alias (however unimaginative or ill conceived) in order to play a club. Testament, however, was playing the very venue they had played only months earlier, and would play again the subsequent year.

Stupid facial piercings? Check. Contrived facial hair? Check. Cornrows? Check. Man-tits? Check. The angle and position of his his horn-throwing hand reminds me of that insanely racist black impression Robin Williams does. You know, the one when he holds out his hand at that very angle and says "yo yo yo", and then crosses his arms ala RUN DMC circa 1984. Ugh.

When they came out on stage, Chuck Billy came out and suddenly said "Ha ha! We are........TESTAMENT!". You could hear chirps in the silence of the crowd. Anyway, Testament played a good set of only old songs, but D.R.I. blew them away. By this point, Definition had just come out, and they were clearly limping along (musically speaking) but the show as fantastic.

Reinterpretation Of A Deicide

Dear Metal Inquisition readers, I would like to introduce to you the internet's Acutewit. In this video she attempts to sing Deicide's "Once Upon the Cross." Consider yourselves warned.

Regret is a Bitch!

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!