From the humble world of small-amp metal, today we take you to the the heights of big-amp metal. In the image above a long-rumored fact about metal is exposed...no, I'm not talking about the fact Tom Araya is a christian, or that Crisco runs through Kerry King's veins... but rather that bands like Immortal don't really own that many Marshall stacks. Makes sense, since they go through the PA system, and black metal is all about appearances anyway...but it's still funny. I wonder if the second bass drum even has a pedal attached to it.
Good lord, I remember a time when Hatebreed would be booked to play a little coffee shop in my town like every two months. Half of the time, they wouldn't show up...but still. Times have changed.
Here we see two of our summer interns (Emily and Alberto) from UC Davis doing research for this post. Good luck this fall semester guys!
As we have done before, today we are once again taking you around the world, the world of the internet, via images that we have found during our travels through the real world and through cyberspace. Join us, wont you?
The last time I was in Belgium, I saw a poster which led me to believe that Nocturnus was playing that night. Needless to say, I was surprised and excited by the prospect of getting to see one of my favorite time-travel themed death metal bands from the early 90s. I went back to my hotel room (I don't stay in Hostels, because I'm not a teenager and I have a job), and changed into my death metal show attire. Imagine my surprise when I showed up and realized that I was in some kind of fruit-boot festival. As far as the eye can see, euros wearing rollerblades were busting out sick tricks, like the ones from the movie Airborne (an MI favorite)...needless to say, I was both sad and disgusted. I went around asking these stupid teenagers if they even had any theories about time travel or spaceships. Sadly, they didn't.
Can you imagine how hard it is for his wife to cry herself to sleep every night after she realizes that this is the man she married? Having said that...sweet pants and bandana combo bro!
Perhaps you've seen this amazing Nocturnus cover, I know I have since I have the original artwork framed in my living room. Anyway, the other day a friend of mine who went to art school was over and noticed some incredible flaws in this masterpiece. I know, I know, it's hard to believe since Mike Browning has the Midas touch. Be that as it may, the image above includes lines that were rendered by very a sophisticated computer program. This image shows the many conflicting perspectives within the painting. The conclusion? Either this thing was painted by a drunken four year old, or Mike Browning just discovered some kind of sixth dimension...and we're all too fucking stupid to get it. Is he a visual pioneer like architect Peter Eisenman, who almost singlehandedly brought deconstructivism to the architectural forefront? Your make the call.
"Fuck Travis! I specifically told you NOT to change the speed on the fan to "turbo" until we started playing 'Winds Of Sickness'! The fan is part of our stage show, it's not a fucking toy! "
That nights performance was putrid, as were all the others during their four day tour of southern Illinois.
Is he casting a spell on me? Will the spell make my hair and face as greasy as his for the rest of my life?
Is he casting another spell on me? If I allow him to cast a spell on me, will he give me his magic cape? Maybe he's not casting a spell on me at all...maybe he's just saying "smell my fingers"...and maybe the guy on the left is making that face because he just did.
Being the singer in a Mexican atmospheric black metal band is not all fun and games. First, your drummer tells you that you have to help him load in his 84 piece drumkit, most of which he bought used at the Queensryche garage sale. Then, you suddenly remember that you forgot to bring the flour tortillas you made for the band to eat before the show. ¡Ay dios mio!
When these people were born, their parents were full of hope, and dreamed of their sons and daughters going on to live full and happy lives. By the time this picture was taken, their parents' spirits had surely been broken. They know and understand that their kids turned out to be fat pathetic shut-ins. As a result, they barely cry themselves to sleep anymore.
Most black metal bands speak about evil and darkness, and that's all fine and good...but this is a band's whose message I can truly get behind. As you can see in this picture, the singer is denouncing the low aesthetic values of dropped ceilings, a message I think we can all get behind.
When anyone is trying to act super evil, there's always some mexican dude who just wants to drink some Bud and give the camera the finger. Here at Metal Inquisition, we love that Mexican dude. I mean, honestly...who would you rather hang out with? The black metal guy just wants to show you his picture disc collection, play Burzum videos for you, and brag about how he knows the guy that writes the music reviews in anus.com. On the other hand, the Mexican dude knows the hot girl at the taco stand, he does a killer Al Pacino impression, he owns all the Fast And The Furious movies for PSP, he works at Pac Sun and can get you a discount...and his brother does landscaping work for super cheap. Who would you rather hang out with? Your call.
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
In Part 1 of this post, we mentioned how transatlantic travel is unnecessary when you can simply look at a country's record covers to fully understand their culture. This may sound small-minded, but I find it to be both true and economical. I should also tell you that this applies to travel within your very own country. For example, some may say that the covers of NWA's albums were exaggerated depictions of a reality that only a few LA residents ever experienced. I would normally agree with you, but allow me to tell you a little story.
The first time I was ever in Los Angeles, I landed at LAX exhausted. I don't mean just tired, I mean exhausted the way Lars Ulrich looks in those slow-motion shots from the Wherever I May Roam video. Upon arriving to Los Angeles, I boarded the nearest Avis car rental shuttle and made my way into their makeshift office. Once there, I quickly claimed the keys to my meh-worthy mid-sized sedan...which featured both AM and FM radio. As I drove out of the parking lot, I looked around and felt happy about the fact that I was finally going to see Los Angeles. I had been to San Francisco twice before, but never southern California. For a latino such as myself, who grew up drooling over the imagery in films such as American Me and Blood In Blood Out, Los Angeles (silly as it may sound) was/is a bit of a cultural mecca. I had lived in Miami, but Los Angeles is the real deal...a center of all that is latino scum culture. As I drove, the sun was setting, and even the not-so-great area around LAX looked beautiful to my tourist eyes. The birds were chirping, and the smog was barely visible...things were good. Los Angeles, I told myself, was my kind of town. Just as I thought about this, I made a right turn and encountered what looked like a photoshoot for an NWA record cover. Two cop cars sat by an abandoned body shop, as the LAPD law officers put handcuffs on about ten latino dudes, who sat on the curb. All the guys were wearing white wife-beater shirts, cut-off khaki shorts and had their long white socks pulled up. Either these were Travis Barker's fashion advisors, or they were the real deal.
By the way, check out this picture of Travis Barker (in which he barely looks like a latino gangbanger) with The Game. Note Travis' shirt, does thelogo look familiar?
As I got closer, their heavily inked bodies revealed what I thought...these were some badass dudes, not just props from a hip-hop video, or a Travis Barker GQ photoshoot. As I drove slowly, one of the young men being handcuffed turned around and said something to the cop. Without skipping a beat, the cop beat him on the side of the neck with a club. The young man collapsed on the curb, I winced...and quickly accelerated my Chevy Malibu. Leave it to me to turn away when a fellow latino is being beaten by the po-po. For all the talk about unity amongst my latino brothers that I've done during my lifetime, my foot hit that damn gas pedal faster than members from Assuck go to whores upon their arrival to Amsterdam while on tour. But what was I to do? Why were these guys being arrested? What did he say to the cop? I'd rather not get involved. As I drove away, and got on the highway (they call them "freeways" in California...see...when you travel EVERYTHING is different) I began to think about the whole ordeal I had just seen. As I drove at speeds seldom exceeding 25 mph on the freeway, I thought to myself: The NWA record covers were actually pretty accurate. They did deptict LA as it really was. I could have saved myself the trip to California, and simply looked at the covers of the records while sitting at home.
It's with that spirit in mind that we offer you the following record covers from Russian bands. Why go through the trouble of booking a flight to Moscow? No need. Metal Inquisition is taking you there free of charge. Have a safe trip.
Before the iron curtain fell, doing business with western artists like Dan Seagrave was pretty much impossible for those in the growing Russian death metal scene. Not able to reach and commission the master of depicting fictitious, lava strewn caves...these industrious Russian bands had to make do with what they had. Much like cab drivers in Cuba have retrofitted their 1952 Chevys to run on kerosene, this band simply contacted their cousin in Poland who had just finished his first semester in art school. The letter in which they told him what to paint said the following:
Cousin, please paint for us the following: A dark scary cave in which five creatures dwell. A purple lizard woman, a purple devil with a taste for gold Rolex watches, a melty lava man, a bat, and a skull/tarantula. Although this makes little sense, please render it as we have requested. Oh yes, and somehow inside the cave a weather system has developed, and as a result there is lighting. Thank you for painting this magical cover for us. By the way cousin, how are you and the family doing? Will the 20 year wait on your Lada be over soon?
One part Suicidal Tendencies, and one part Devo, these Russian masters were the first hardcore band to proclaim their love for skateboarding, which they called "wooden roller plank". This 12" record is actually a split between the first two bands in the Moscow hardcore scene, Pulse and Stylus (or something). Although many detractors referred to these musical pioneers as "infidels" for taking up such American pursuits as "wooden roller plank", Russia's entire hardcore scene should thank these guys for forging on regardless of what their comrades had to say.
I hate to be one of those "I only like their demo" douchebags...but this is where both Pulse and Stylus began to go downhill. Due to a limited supply of skateboard wheels, band members began making their own out of sawed-down broomsticks. Soon, they grew tired of the hardship they endured and took to other sports. Not able to engage in any sports that members of bands like Suicidal Tendencies or Cryptic Slaughter may have been involved in, they turned to the only sport that was available at their local Communist Party youth hall. Sadly, that sport was racketball. In an attempt to make the sport more "extreme", both bands chose to blend aspects of brakedancing into it...the results were both amazing and tragic. Although both bands managed to get Charlie Sheen to pose for the album's cover, the scene they had created began to disintegrate...as many fans grew tired of hearing lyrics about racketball. The model that has worked so well for their obsession with skateboarding, failed terribly with other sports. Perhaps the best example of that would have to be their third and final recording, which completely revolved around jai alai, a sport they saw in an episode of Riptide.
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."
