If you were anything like me during the early 90's, you probably stayed up every saturday night to watch Headbanger's Ball. Sure, they mostly played Trixter and LA Guns videos...but once a while a gem would come up. Around 1990 or so, the best you could hope for was Anthrax or maybe Danzig. For my money, the Mother video was about the best one they could show. While other metal videos were filled with nothing but shirtless dudes, Danzig knew his fan base and always put semi-decent chicks in his videos. "Mother" was a prime example of this. Although I never found the two girls to be all that great looking, I often wonder where they are these days. Were they low-level porno actresses who still live in a lair under Danzig's house? Were they Eerie Von's cousins from Indiana? The ones that were willing to do anything in order to make it in Hollywood, and now work at diaper factory Bakersfield? Well, thanks to Metal Inquisition, you don't have to wonder anymore. I happened upon a video of a woman dancing to the famed song here, and quickly figured out who she was. That's right...she's still alive. Barely. She's still dancing to "Mother" too. Her face also looks like it caught on fire, and the fire was put out with soccer cleats. Watch and learn:
Aside from dancing to Mother, she takes requests and will dance to your band's music. She'll also show up to your band's show (if your band is a Pearl Jam cover band) and dance awkwardly on stage while people cringe.
Oh, and did I mention that she believes Glenn Danzig put a curse on her during the taping of the video?
While I believe that the videos above answer many questions that have always surrounded the Mother video, many are still unanswered. For example: Why is Glenn's mouth always triangular in shape?
Also, what was that thing that was on fire supposed to be? A torch? Glenn's fist?
A gregarious bunch of leather daddies or a budget Italian power metal band? You decide!
I know that making fun of Italian metal is easy. It's like when the two inbred main characters have sex with the retarded girl in Gummo. It's almost too easy, but I just can't help myself. See, a while back the Sarge introduced us to the world of budget slam metal, perhaps best exemplified by Artery Eruption, and now I'd like to introduce you to the kings of budget Italian power metal--Kaledon. These Roman warriors have displayed an undying allegiance to all things lo-fi and low-budget that has left them unchallenged atop the steaming pile of shit that is budget Italian power metal.
Here we see the crowd (all two of them) going wild as Kaledon performs their smash hit "Spirit of the Dragon." A force of nature, Kaledon is best experienced live as the sheer sonic force of their performances have been credited with causing at least a half dozen suicides across the Lazio region.
This reminds me of the kind of picture I would expect to see hanging up in the dining room of any number of my Italian family members. You see Italian dining rooms are not actually meant for dining, they're more for show. That's where you display all the wonderful useless shit you got at your wedding 30 years ago like your gigantic china closet filled with fine china you never use--you know, the good stuff--along with your crystal and your special silverware (the kind that's actually made of silver). You'll usually also find an enormous dining table covered in a gawdy white lace tablecloth some grandmother spent a lifetime making. If your Italian family is anything like mine then the dining table chairs are probably hermetically sealed in plastic and will never be exposed to the elements. And no matter how big of a loser he may be, an Italian mother will always be proud of her son because he is her pride and joy and so she will have several photo albums worth of embarassing pictures of him and she will gladly display a picture from his first communion right next to the picture he took with his friends out near the Roman Aqueduct while dressed like a gang of child molesting Renaissance fairies in a gigantic gold plated frame. Mama is especially proud of that 12 inch boner you're smuggling in your leather pants.
More often than not "serious musicians" are all business, but not the ragazzi of Kaledon! It's refreshing to see that the boys can just as easily spend a day relaxing in the studio, joking around and having a good time instead of spending hours carefully trimming their facial hair while their little sister repeatedly bangs on the bathroom door because she has to pee and dad yells to finish jerking off and get out of the bathroom because he has to take a shit.
One thing you could never accuse Kaledon of doing is progressing. Just look at the cover of their debut album, Legend of the Forgotten Reign - Chapter 1: The Destruction.
Now take a look at the cover of their most recent album, 2008's Legend of the Forgotten Reign - Chapter 5: A New Era Begins.
From the unforgettable amateur paintbrush to the utterly forgettable amateur computer illustration, Kaledon is never content to rest on their laurels. They've never let their complete and utter lack of talent stop them before so why start now?
I'd like to leave you with what I think is the most compelling piece of evidence in the case for Kaledon's budget Italian power metal supremacy--the music video for their hit single "The New Kingdom." I could spend days tearing apart every frame, but instead let me just point out how proud they are of their packages as we once again see a band member proudly displaying his manhood in his way-too-tight white linen pants. It's impossible not to notice the tremendously low production values of this video, but it's obvious that the men of Kaledon make up for what they lack financially with their boundless enthusiasm for their horrible music. It's hard not to admire that kind of dedication. Against all odds and good sense, Kaledon endures and to that I must say--forza, Kaledon!
As an added bonus for our Italian speaking readers enjoy this equally retarded parody video:
I'm an idiot. I meant to post this on Friday, but mistakenly put it up today. Oh well. It's a holiday weekend here in the US of A...so consider this your weekend fill.
Like most of you, I have my bad days. I know what you're probably thinking, that due to the popularity of this blog, my life is filled with endless parties and prestigious events to which I am driven to in my 62S Maybach. Well, that's all certainly true...but with that in mind, I must also tell you that I sometimes have a case of what overweight American women call "the mondays". Just this past Monday, I actually had a case of "the Mondays", one I simply could not shake. I tried the usual remedies for this condition, anything that would cheer me up. I listened to Obituary, but it didn't work. It merely reminded me of when I was younger, happier and got to hang out with Obituary in order for Donald Tardy to sign a drumstick for me. I tried listening to Dream Theatre, which usually makes me laugh for hours upon hours, especially that one song that has the salloon-music like piano part. But then I remembered that poor Mike Portnoy can only afford to live in a town called Coopersburg Pennsyvlania. Can you imagine playing that awful garbage to dozens of acne-scarred fans every night...and only being able to afford a pseudo-Mc mansion in Coopersburgh PA? Nothing was working, I was still bummed and feeling blue. It was time to take drastic action, so I brought out the big guns...the only thing that will always cheer me up and make me laugh. Am I talking about Megadeth's cover of Anarchy In the UK? No. Am I talking about the Megadeth tribute album entirely made up of French bands that I own. No. Am I talking about the entire Hanger 18 video? Nope. I'm talking about the Manowar commercial for German TV.
Even after watching it, I was still not feeling cheered up. As such, I instructed my driver Helmut to drive me around town in my Maybach so that I could find someone to laugh at. I thought surely there would be a pack of Juggalos somewhere out there, waiting to make my day brighter. Sometimes, god smiles down upon you...and last Monday was such a day. At one random intersection I saw the most amazing metal specimen known to man...a very rare one. Much like seeing the rare Pinta Islan Tortoise in the wild, catching a full blown, early 20s black metal douche bag (complete with full leather pants in a day when it was nearly 90 degrees) is a rare sight. At least around here. I mean, you know they're out there...and you can find them at shows and stuff...but to see one crossing the street is amazing.
I know this photographic evidence is poor at best, but you'll have to forgive my driver Helmut, as this was the best shot he was able to get for me.
The beast was majestic, complete with black plumage, combat boots, oversized backpack, portable CD player (did you just read that? Portable CD player...its 2009!), sunglasses and a Bathory shirt. Was it the mere sight of such a specimen that cheered me up. Not really. You see, in the picture above you can see a middle aged black woman, walking away from the young metal fan. This is where it gets good. Although I found myself a few feet away from the action, I could hear the exchange between these two pretty well. Originally the woman was standing next to Mr Bathory shirt, waiting to cross the street. The whole time they were standing next to each other, Mr Leather Pants was totally hitting on this chubby 40 something lady. He was dead serious, and was definitely using his A game to lure her back into his black metal lair. "Where are you going to now?" He asked her suggestively, as he looked her up and down, almost licking his lips. I felt bad for the guy, I was seeing him at his most vulnerable, and the woman was not even acknowledging his existence. I'm sure it probably reminded him of that other awkward conversation he once had with a woman. His mother. It went a little something like this:
So there he was, trying to hit on a much older woman...and being insanely persistent at it. "Where do you work? Come on, you can tell me." She was having none of it, and wouldn't even look his way. I couldn't hear everything he said to her, but his ongoing questions were met with complete disregard from the lady, a reply that most male metalheads know well. "You don't even want to look at me?" he asked. The woman suddenly turned around, looked at him, pausing on his leather pants. Once she looked at him, she walked away from him, angrily putting her bag over her shoulder and murmuring to herself. It was this moment that I caught, I mean...my driver Helmut, caught on camera. Feeling dissed by the lady, Mr Black Metal kinda' bobbed his head to the rhythm of the grim tunes on his sweet portable CD player, and fixed his hair and headphones as to say "ain't no thang". Upon seeing a black metal fan trying to pick up a middle aged lady on the street, and failing...I found myself suddenly cheered up. Everything was right with the world, I was officially in a good mood once again.
As I've stated before, one unfortunate aspect of metal is the lack of information about the earnings of metal musicians. In sports, for example, this type of information is often public. Why not in metal? I have long asked for complete transparency in the realm of metal...but my calls to Steamhammer records have gone unanswered, so too have my faxes to Wild Rags. It's for this reason that we here at Metal Inquisition have decided to roll up our sleeves and once again check into these matters the only way we know how. Real estate.
It just so happened that as we were starting this investigation, a fantastic email from a reader who lives in the same town as Manowar came into our mailbox. The email featured all kinds of fantastic insight as to what it's like to be at ground zero of the Manowar epidemic. Notice that I use the term "ground zero", which is often used in the context of 9-11...because in a way, Manowar itself is a good bit like a musical 9-11.
Manowar...pioneers in homoerotic attire since 1980.
As with all information we publish, we had to be thorough in checking out just how factual the reader's information was. As it turns out, it all checked out in multiple ways...and thank god for that. As a result of his email, our readers will now have a more thorough picture of what it's really like to be in and around Manowar. Prepare yourself...you are moments away from reading about how the KINGS OF METAL really live their lives. It's gonna' be a bumpy ride. Get ready.
FACT #1:Joey DeMaio lives in the basement of his parents' house in Auburn NY
I know, it's not hard to believe at all. Actually, it's barely shocking...but knowing that it's actually true is simply fantastic. It's a bit like when the gay community found out that Rosie O'Donnell was actually a lesbian. They already knew about it...but having it out in the open gave them all the ability to finally move on.
This is the house Joey lives in. It's worth $190,000. As before, our non-American readers can convert this amount, and other amounts in this article, into their own currency here. Yes, it's out of the basement of this house that Joey runs his musical empire. Maybe when his parents move away or retire in Boca, he'll inherit the house. Could that be his sweet Ford Probe out front? Nothing says "metal" like a fifteen year old American coupe with four cylinders that puts out a "meh" inducing 110 horse power. By the way, look at all the weeds growing in and around the driveway...Joey's mom is going to be pissed! Joey better get out there and do some weeding...pronto! I can hear her saying "Joey, I don't care if you are the King Of Metal. You better be the King Of Weeding, go out there and take care of that driveway!"
Who's that sexy Italian beast wearing the karate uniform? And what about that Casio watch and platform shoes? It's the one and only king of metal of course! He probably keeps this amazing outfit in a closet at his mom's house. Mom threatens to throw it out during every spring cleaning...and Joey flips out each and every time.
As much of a pain as it probably is to have a leech like Joey living in your basement, he also happens to be a nice Catholic boy. Oh yes indeed. Joey is a member of the Knights Of Malta, a catholic order of some kind with a very confusing history. Check out Joey wearing some sweet robes. He looks like an aging, upstate New York, Italian dracula:
Can you imagine being Joey's mom, and seeing him in his dracula robe, or his furry armor sneaking fat 19 year old girls down into the basement? The woman is a saint.
Here we see Joey with his parents, who no doubt cry themselves to sleep over what a joke their pathetic son has turned out to be. See the microwave oven in the back? That's where Joey's mom has tried to put her head during numerous suicide attempts.
Regarding Joey, our reader states:
I have the great misfortune being from the same shithole town as Manowar. One of the perks of living here, though, is that I can get close looks at Joey DeMaio's thinning, dyed hair as he shops for broccoli at the local grocery store. You see dudes wearing Manowar shirts around town all the time. Guys of that age probably went to high school with them, and knew them before they were 'rock stars'. I can imagine how things were in the early 80's when all the local scumbags were into metal. Now, things have changed all of their illegitimate children are a bunch of wiggers. I don't know what's worse.
FACT #2:Karl Logan wears a fanny pack, and gives guitar lessons to 11 year olds.
I know, I know...these are not exactly revelations, but aren't you grateful to know these things are actually true? Our reader also filled us in on the fact that Karl lives in this house (see below), which he rents. Since he rents, I wont bother giving you the price...but looking at the picture, I think you'll agree that you could probably trade a bag of potatoes for it.
The building where Karl Logan lives, which was previously Manowar's practice space. What did you expect...a castle with torches and a mote?
Our reader tells us more:
Karl Logan is the local guitar teacher and lives in some shitty old building that Manowar used to rehearse in. He drives a beat up pickup with "9/11 was a lie" bumper stickers on it. Did I mention he wears a fanny pack everywhere? Living here, I get to see Karl pulling cash out of the fanny pack he wears everywhere to pay for his coffee (dude kinda reminds me of Mantas in that laugh-out-loud funny looking kinda way).
FACT #3:Eric Adams works construction to make ends meet
I know, I know...you probably figured that this was the case. I wish I lived in Auburn so I could have Eric Adams come and do the drywall in my basement. I would blast Manowar upstairs as he huffed and puffed carrying sheets of drywall down the steps. Can you imagine? It would be amazing. Mr. Adams lives in a modest home. A VERY modest home that costs $69,000.
Look above the door, at least the guy has satellite TV. Good for him. I guess you could call this "the house that being the King of Metal built", or "the house that singing at children's parties built". Either will do.
As pointed out by one of our readers, Eric also teaches archery classes at the local Bass Pro Shop. You can read about his hunting abilities in the local news sources here.Eric also seems to perform music at children's festivals. But don't judge him, I'm sure he performs a catalog that is very high in metal content.
Much like a dead bird's feathers which loose their luster after the years, Eric's hair appears to loose both its pizzazz and its hair dye when he's not on the road. What the hell kind of hair color has his plumage faded down to? Is he trying to blend into the surroundings as part of his camouflage? I can't believe he gets away with hunting when he lives so close to Syracuse. If Karl Crisis hears about this, there's gonna' be trouble.
Our reporter on the street tells us:
I get to eavesdrop on Eric Adams' (real name Lou Marullo, his stage name is a combination of his kids' names) tales of glory at recent European festivals, while watching high school football games. Eric lives in a small house, right next door to a metal foundry on some depressing little street. Perhaps that's where they get their swords made. He does construction work on his off time from the band, which probably equates to 11 months a year. One of his kids is in a joke cover band called Motley Crouton that plays the shithole bars around here.
Sweet 'stache Eric...now go do my drywall!
If you want to go further into the world of all things Manowar, check out Eric's son's MySpace page here. You can also check out his band's page here.
In closing: Do any readers have any input about other metal demi-stars, their monetary earnings or real estate holdings? Let us know.
Also, if the reader who sent us this email, or any other resident of Auburn can send in pictures of Eric carrying drywall, or Joey buying broccoli...you'll get many, many thanks from us, and the entire world. The only guy who won't thank you will be this 17 year old who just got inked. Imagine his surprise when he figures out that he makes more money bagging groceries part-time than Joey does. Ouch.
In the past, postings about Machine Head and Rob Flynn's Disease (RFD for short) got us an insane number of page views, mostly from angry fans. Our posts also initiated heated, angry diatribes in Machine Head boards. Let's see what this post does to Manowar fans. I can't wait.
For better or worse, I am a child of the 80s shred scene. I first started playing guitar in '89, when the magazines were still full of shit like Cacophony, Mr. Big, Vinnie Vincent, Steve Vai, George Lynch, and so forth. Back then, before Nirvana ruined everything and made people understand that songwriting was more important that shredding, we fetishized technique above all else. The magazines were sweet, full of pictures of androgynous dudes with big hair and no shirt making a funny face as they shredded the fuck out of some neon green Washburn. Out of all those bands, though, none of the could hold a candle to Nitro. They played faster, sang higher, and looked more like characters from Mad Max than anyone else! Needless to say, we are huge Nitro fans here at Metal Inquisition, and we think it's high time to look back at this band's output.
OFR (Out Fuckin' Rageous) Nitro's debut is, without a doubt, one of the finest pieces of recorded music in the history of mankind. And let me be perfectly clear here that while Nitro are hilarious and ridiculous, I 100% non-ironically love this record! Look how the pieces of the logo are exploding out of the letters and shit! BAM!! You can feel the crackling energy!! Some of the highlights:
Freight Train This song is about how Nitro is like a freight train... whatever that means. I guess it is kind of like the analogy questions on the SAT that are like Nitro:Freight Train :: Racer X:____________ and you have to fill it in (I would have answered that question with "Lambo Countach," by the way). Make sure you watch Michael Angelo blaze the fretboard of his four-necked guitar (count 'em- four necks!). The guy wasn't fucking around. Jimmy Page thought he was onto some shit with his double-necked business, but Michael Angelo took it to a completely different level that is rivaled only by Kane Roberts' assault rifle guitar (below).
Fighting Mad This song is about a fight. Not only that, but the fight is so heated, it seems likely that someone may lose their life! You can only imagine how intense and vivid the song feels! That said, I feel like parts of it could have been a little rushed. I may be going out on a limb here, but I am going to say that Jim Gillette didn't put a ton of thought into these lyrics:
You never crossed me, I hope you never will Backed in a corner, I'm forced to kill Don't say I haven't warned you, you're fucking with your life Nothing can save you, not even a knife
Seriously? "Not even a knife"? I mean, I don't think anybody expects Shakespeare but come on, at least make it look like you tried.
The liner notes Many years before 4chan and I Can Has Cheezburger made it cool, Nitro used ironic spelling to great effect in the liner notes of OFR. For example, they articulate their stance on drug abuse as follows: "DRUGZ R 4 DUMFUCKS. DON'T BE A DUMFUCK." Actually, I'm not sure it was ironic, I think they are just dummies who are functionally illiterate. The end result is the same, though, so whatever.
Nice basket of fruit
Bobby Rock Someday we really need to write a whole post about Nitro drummer Bobby Rock, who is an extremely bizarre human being. For now, please just take a few moments to head over to his site and get some tips on vegan bodybuilding, read some of his erotic stories, and look at pictures of him meditating. It's kind of mind-blowing so make sure you've prepared yourself first with plenty of fasting, prayer, and stretches!! Here's a sample of some of his erotica- it puts Penthouse Letters to shame:
You are brought into the UCLA Medical Division for a top-secret, cutting-edge experiment. It's a referral-only program and, because of a connection you have with an old family friend, you are among the first selected. You meet your contact and are ushered through a few hallways and into a laboratory environment, where various doctors and assistants are walking around this maze of test tubes and computer screens in their long white coats. You are inevitably led to the rear of the lab where you're taken through a security check-point, then down a long corridor. Along the way, your guide has you stop and peer into a makeshift hotel room, which includes a bed, night stand, lamp and bogus painting. Sitting on the bed, dressed comfortably in an orange bath towel and reading a copy of USA Today, is an attractive and fit gentleman in his late twenties, totally oblivious to your looking in.
From there, you and your guide continue down the corridor until you come across an unusual scene: There's a beautiful, nude woman laying unconscious on a hospital bed. She has some sort of Star Trek-looking skullcap gizmo attached to her head, with a cluster of tubes and wires extending out of it and into an intricate, computerized contraption at bedside. Further left is another bed, this one empty.
Another doctor steps forward and details the experiment:
You are to lay down, fully clothed, on that empty bed across from the unconscious woman and have the futuristic headgear attached. Within 20 minutes, you will be asleep, but every aspect of your consciousness will be temporarily transferred over to the woman. In other words, you will actually wake up - with all faculties, memories, personality traits, everything, completely in tact - in the woman's body. You can even see your body asleep on the other bed.
From there, you will be given 20 minutes alone for "self-exploration," just to check out your new body and see how everything works. Then, you are to join the man you saw in the mock hotel setting for a complete, 45-minute sexual escapade, which will include oral sex and intercourse. Afterward, you are to return to the original bed with the headgear, where your consciousness will be shifted back into your body. You will then wake up and, while your body was not actually involved, you will retain all knowledge, memory and sensation of the experience.
Do you have a boner now or what?! That shit is erotic as fuck, huh?
10/10 bloody axes
NITROII: HWDWS (Hot Wet Drippin' With Sweat) About 10 years ago, I saw the grind/hardcore band Creation is Crucifixion in Cleveland. Somehow or another I ended up talking to one of the guitarists about Nitro, and he told me he would make me a copy of HWDWS, but he fucking never did. Fast forward to about 18 months ago, and he ended up being the DJ at Lucho Metales' wedding (he does it for a living). After requesting Lil John's "Snap Yo Fingaz," I asked him if he was ever going to get me that copy of HWDWS. He still didn't have it, which was kind of disappointing at the time, but in retrospect was probably for the best. There are a few goods jams such as "Boys Will Be Boys" and "Turnin' Me On," but it just isn't nearly as good as OFR. In fact, if it wasn't for OFR, I would probably be totally into this album. I mean, pick it up if you see it, just for the sake of completeness, but don't get your hopes up, you know?
