We are happy to announce a new weekly addition to Metal Inquisition's output. We have taken over Metal Injection's weekly Tr00 & False column, in which we review the week in metal and tell you which way is up. Please point your browser to Metal Injection and worship at our feet.
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First and foremost, and in the spirit of full disclosure, I should tell you that I play the drums. I'm not sure if I'm a drummer, but I play the drums.
With that out of the way, I can now tell you something that you may already know: drummers tend to be some of the most odd human beings you'll ever meet. Who on earth would choose such a retarded instrument? It's the least portable instrument (okay, maybe harps and pipe organs are less portable), and one that requires that you physically attack it as though it's your worst enemy. As a result, it should come as no surprise that drummers are weird, unstable human beings. Back when I was in a band, we toured with another band who we were friends with. That band's drummer decided to bring his own pots and pans on tour so he could cook using his own equipment while on tour. I made fun of him relentlessly for this reason, only to realize that I myself had packed and brought an extensive array of cleaning and disinfectant sprays and fluids on tour with me. An array so plentiful, that it would have even been impressive to any C-Level executive at Procter and Gamble. I suddenly realized that drummers were in fact weird, but also that I was part of the problem. I was certainly guilty of falling in love with, and nurturing my childish idiosyncrasies. With that story out of the way, you can now more meaningfully enjoy these retarded drummers.
Did you ever want to see an instructional video featuring your balding uncle Frank showing you how to play a blast beat? Your dream has finally come true:
If I were his drums, I'd be afraid of being eaten. I feel bad for the dude, because he clearly has to run his own video equipment, since he has no one to help him. When you see and hear him play drums, you understand why no one wants to be around him, let alone help him. Nice Umbro shorts though.
This guy has the world's fastest feet, and I'm not just saying that. He won a contest. Have you ever heard the old joke about the special olympics? Even if you win at the special olympics, you're still retarded. (Insert rimshot sound effect)
I bet his mom cries herself to sleep.
This is a true story. When I met Mr. Gene Hoglan's Balls, I went to his apartment and saw a pair of drumsticks in his bedroom. I asked him if he played the drums, and he told me "No, I use those for air-drumming". The fact that an adult man, would air drum with drumsticks was shocking to me, but judging by this video, I guess it's common practice. I think for christmas, I'll buy Gene Hoglan's Balls a guitar pick so he can air-guitar.
An oldie but a goodie. Further proof that drummers are weird, and since british people are weird too, Mick Harris is pretty much a perfect storm of stupidity.
I finally checked the Metal Inquisition email account for the first time in weeks, if not months, and saw that we had actually received quite a bit of mail. Although most of was retarded crap, we appreciate that you spent the time to get in touch, so we will try to address it here. There is a lot, so I will just answer a few pieces of mail at a time, starting now. If we didn't get to your email this time, and you're disappointed, you should kill yourself immediately. But we will get to it next time, and keep writing!
Grill Em All Ryan writes:
hows it going man? My name is Ryan and im the dude w/ the grill em all tattoo! ha, im glad you posted that on yer site, my friends and i are fans, so that made my fucking day! Anyways, i play in a metal band here in los angeles called Sumerian Axe, you may or may not be into it, but i figured i'd shoot you the link either way.
The Inquisitors respond: I'm pretty sure I met Ryan like 10 years ago or something in Ohio, but I could be wrong. If so, his child-like grammar and spelling make me think that he has suffered severe head trauma since then. Anyway, if you're into beard metal, check his band out. I listened to it for a second or two, then shut it off and turned on 311.
Get Thrashed Hey im a poser so i wont waste your time, (but who isn't a poser by your standards?). Anyways i have watched a documentary called "Get Thrashed" about 5 times since it came out a month ago, Since the best part of my day is reading your blog, i think it would be a great post if you guys did a review of this doc, and provide us with some answers to what the hell is going on in this masterpiece. If you haven't heard of it check it out, acquire it, and i promise it will contain an unlimited amount of hilarious post material. Some questions i would like answered after watching the movie....
1. Can you locate the actual scumbag trailer park Bobby Blitz is doing his interview from and, put a logical guess to how many meth dealers are within a 10 mile radius.....mine is 1,000
2. Dave Mustane hates Beef Stew....why?
3. How many posers did Gene Hoglan actually kill?
Whatever, I'm drunk and i think this would be cool, I love your blog, fuck you.
The Inquisitors respond: I watched the "metal vs. hardcore" clip and confirmed that this movie is like every other music documentary: 90% old, washed up douchebags telling story after long-winded story about exaggerated versions of things that happened 20 years ago (see also, "American Hardcore"). I'm sure to them the stories are super interesting and incredibly shocking, but to the rest of us they're about as exciting as your uncle's fish stories. Basically, the thrash version of Bruce Springsteen's "Glory Days," only not nearly as good.
Retard, Morlock, or Eastern Euro? You be the judge.
Eastern Europeans: The real-life Morlocks? Ian Spermgrinder writes: Forgive me if you're already aware of the phenomenon of Krabathor, a band from the Czech Republic whose lyrical content would make that of the early 90s British band Cancer seem highly intellectual. Usually when a band uses english as a second language, there's a gradual learning curve and they end up getting it more right than wrong. Not Krabathor. Each release continues to defy the listener's/reader's ears/eyes with the pure nonsensical ramblilngs that is usually the exclusive purview of Japanese Wigger Slam bands. Check em out.
The Inquisitors respond: I have heard Krabathor, but I didn't know that they were such an Engrish factory! I hopped on their MySpace and checked them, with hilarious results:
The Inquisitors respond: Sure enough, there are some doozies in here!
For being so grim and necro, he looks remarkably relaxed, even pleasant. I'm trying to figure out what's going on with his flooring: is that weird carpet, or crappy linoleum tile that's coming up at the edges? Either way, I would take a look at it before it gets worse. If there's water damage, you want to catch that as soon as possible!
And here he is out of costume. It's not a bad little back yard, although with houses on either side, I think it might end up being a little too shady and cool for my tastes. You would really only get sun back there at high noon. It seems like it would be an ideal place to grow something that thrives in shade, though, like bluebells or maybe something in the nightshade family. I love bluebells, they're so pretty! Also, the shiny red ball.
Oh come on, you're not even trying!! Back in my day, we at least got in the car and stood in front of the scariest building in town instead of just crudely photoshopping ourselves in front of something off of Google images. And what kind of a name is "Restless"? That's like using "Mildly Annoyed" or "Uncomfortable" as your black metal name!
Sergeant D presenting during the Metal Inquisition corporate retreat. That's our administrative assistant Pearl to his left. The painting on the wall is a portrait of Steamhammer Records founder Helmut Fleisher
This past weekend, the annual Metal Inquistion retreat took place in an undisclosed rural location in these United States. This yearly retreat is intended as a time for Metal Inquisition staffers to reflect upon our last year of work, and it gives us time to think about the current direction of this fine online forum. During this yearly retreat, we partake in the usual team building exercises, review possible shifts in our business model and spend quality time with each other. This time away from the hustle and bustle of our everyday lives takes place in a setting that allows us to focus on the business at hand, with no outside interruptions (since we had no cell phone coverage), and it's also time for Sergeant D to make endless Powerpoint presentations about the M.I. business plan. We all sleep through his presentations, and usually only wake up when he loudly yells out "cha-ching! We're gonna' get rich from this blog bitches!" It was during this retreat, in one of those quiet moments that comes about from time to toime, that both Gene Hoglan's Balls and I finally disclosed our deepest, darkest and most depressing secret to one another. The secret?
We both have to wear doctor prescribed orthotics.
Actually, Mr. Hoglan's Balls has fantastic orthotics with an urban camo-like pattern that would be perfectly at home in the shoes of Max Cavalera. But back to the issue at hand...please don't assume that we both have funky looking feet that are misshapen. Our feet do not resemble claw hammers more than feet, so let me correct you. Our feet look just fine, thank you very much...but due to the pain that comes with old age, we were both forced into a course of action normally reserved for people twice our age. Pathetic? Sad? You bet! Why do I bring all this up? Because this should be a sign to all of our readers that we are no spring chickens. We've been around the block a time or two (or six), and that includes substantial experience in the world of metal.
So it's with that in mind that I shall now explain to you a great schism that has occurred in the world of metal. You see, like most old farts who wear orthodics I don't deal with change very well. I miss the days when hot ladies wore Forbidden shirts to shows, I miss the days when Shane Embury still weighed less than 400 pounds, I miss the days when Nocturnus and their lyrical genius was at the forefront of scientific research in time travel and black matter. But times have changed, and perhaps the biggest sign of this change can be seen in one simple but powerful aspect. Inhaling versus exhaling vocals in the general realm of metal.
I know what you're saying, you're saying "Hey old man, yeah you...with the orthotics. Quit crying about your foot pain and about metal vocals, get over it!" But I can't. For god's sake, I remember when metal vocalists used to exhale to grant us all with the thrill of great growling or, in the case of King Diamond, crying that sounded like a hyena in pain.
These damn kids with their haircuts, do they live in wind tunnel?
But times change, and these days, young kids whose haircuts seem to imply a constant and severe side, or back-wind (aka MySpace hair), are inhaling all over the place in order to sound like pigs in heat. I have no interest in the music that these vocal stylings are intended for, but I still find it annoying. "Pig squeling" is what the youngster call it. Ugh, I've never felt so old...especially within the context of a subculture that I'm semi-connected to. I guess this all has to do with metalcore and screamo and other styles of music that I would feel dirty as a result of even typing out their names.
Before you tell me I'm old and I should understand...I just told you I wear orthotics! I'm old, and don't want to understand! I had to sit in the Podiatrist's waiting room next to 80 year old women with bunions.
I know what some of you are thinking, that inhaling has been used successfully in some instances in the world of wigger slam, but I'm here to tell you that I'm not thrilled about that either! Back in my day we EXHALED our metal vocals. If this all sounds like insanity to you, please watch the videos below and tell me I'm wrong. If I am, I'll eat my orthotics and call it a day. Now, get off my lawn!
This last one is a full lesson on how to inhale/pig squeal. Hope you have a cyanide pill handy. You may need it.
The best parts are when he brings the mic close to his mouth and all you hear is his singing. He looks like he's made out of ice cream cake. Could he be related to this all time M.I. favorite?
I'm not really big on chicks starting bands, because usually they're just crappy versions of a dude band and even though they try hard, they're never really that good. Sort of like the WNBA, or when a woman is your boss. That said, there are a few chick bands that don't disappoint.
13 The first time I heard 13 was on "Cry Now, Cry Later" almost 15 years ago, but they released a few records, all of which were excellent and predated the current "stoner" trend by over a decade. I had no idea until the other day that the singer for 13 is now apparently in Electric Wizard (if they are still a band), and pretty hot to boot.
The one on the right could be an American Apparel model.
Mythic Man, people joke about this band, but I think they were great. They were brutal as fuck, like a way more sludgy, downtuned version of Winter or something. I seriously think they were an awesome band, although no matter what I say this will probably sound sarcastic since nobody takes them seriously. And you know what? I don't want to live in a world where Mythic is a joke! Fuck this place.
Anyway rather than describe them myself, I'll use the words of Anus.com:
Post-apocalyptic misery metal crafted from simple chromatic scales of power chords and rumbling basic drumbeats, rubbery bass distorting the rest in an avalanche of distorted scalatures reverberating between polar counterpoints of foundation to the interval space of chromatic gesture that form the harmonic basis to each song.
I couldn't have said it better myself! That guy is a genius!!
Nuclear Death Like most everybody reading this blog, I have listened to some pretty fucked up music in my day, but I honestly don't think anything compares to Nuclear Death. Lots of bands try hard to be shocking (yawn), but Nuclear Death's lyrics had the weird, unhinged quality that only the truly insane can create.
What's a bit disappointing is that Lori Bravo has several YouTube videos that are not very brutal, and I am no longer sure how much I like Nuclear Death. For example, in this one she pets her kitten and talks about Wal-Mart, getting a new social security card, and making dioramas. Also she does acoustic covers of Cat Power and John Frusciante... oh how the mighty have fallen!! Making dioramas?! Come on!!
