Some posts just write themselves, like yesterday's on Stuff You Will Hate about BOSS' Crabcore pedal. Such is also the case with this collection of "interesting" letters received by Roadrunner about 5 years ago and passed on to us by a secret source that we will simply call "Green Rage." Please thank him/her and enjoy this rare treat!
Click on any of the images to see a full-size version that you can actually read.
This fucking dipshit is an asshole of the highest order, but what's much worse is that he's not funny. In this letter he pretends to think there is a defect with the CD they sent him FOR FREE and says the singer for Cradle of Filth sounds like a girl. Here is how I would probably react: Har har, real funny, you sure taught me a lesson about how lame I am for sending free stuff to people like you. You couldn't just silently throw it away like everyone else who doesn't like it, you had to rub it in my face. Your time is clearly priceless, other than the hours you spent writing this letter and patting yourself on the back for being so clever. How about this you motherfucker, I know where your fucking kids go to school and they get out in 10 minutes- think you can get there faster than I can? Why aren't you laughing anymore??
In this letter, some gimp/mongo begs Roadrunner to send him a Slipknot CD out of pity for his disability. True to form for someone who is asking for a handout, he is not only asking for a favor but has very specific demands regarding how the favor should be done: "CDS LPS ONLY NO SINGLES. IF 2 VERSIONS SEND EXPLICIT LYRIC VERSION. IF ONLY ONE VERSION SEND IT." It's kind of like when I told Olga Kurylenko she should pity-fuck me after the ATM ate my debit card, then said "MISSIONARY/REVERSE COWGIRL ONLY NO HANDJOBS. IF 2 ORIFICES USE BUTTHOLE. IF ONLY ONE ORIFICE USE IT."
If you ever did a zine, traded tapes, or otherwise corresponded with Euros by mail in the 80s/90s, this letter will sound all too familiar. Some German weirdo is pitching them on the idea of opening some Roadrunner stores in Europe. But that's not all! He adds that "When a Roadrunner Band is on Tour or the Roadrunner Roadrage Tour is across Europe this Band or Bands make a Autographbreak on the Local Roadrunner Store so Fans can get closer to their Idols." It sounds to me like he has fully considered this idea and I cannot imagine why Roadrunner did not jump at the chance to immediately engage him as VP Retail Development, Roadrunner Europe. Then he could give the gimp from above a job and kill two birds with one stone!
Now this letter is refreshing! He's not being a dickbag whiner, asking for free shit, or an annoying Euro, he's just a Roadrunner fan who is understandably concerned about the direction the label started taking around this time (1995ish). As a diehard Fear Factory and Machine Head devotee, he simply asks "Where is the REALLY heavy stuff? Where is the death metal? Where is the double bass on the drums??" And isn't that what we are all trying to find out during our time here on this planet?? Where *is* the double bass on the drums?
Hoo boy... this reminds me of the insane bullshit that covers the label of Dr. Bronner's soap. The scary part is the complete lack of awareness at play. Any time someone seems to lack a fundamental understanding of reality, it's unnerving because you never know what the fuck they'll do next. They operate on what seems to be their own bizarre logic system that has little or no relationship to the way the world actually works. When Z-level, local metal bands send their godawful demo to Roadrunner it's certainly kind of pathetic, but at least it makes sense: they are in a metal band, and Roadrunner puts out metal records. I always wonder what possesses some weirdo like this fruit to contact a label like Roadrunner, and how they might react if rejected. I imagine this guy is the heir to some insane fortune that his father made selling essence of honeysuckle in the 1920s or whatever, so he doesn't have to work. Instead, he spends his days wandering around, sniffing bicycle seats and park benches. When he gets the news that Roadrunner signed Billy Talent instead of him, he flips out and some poor girl waiting for the bus ends up in a dumpster behind 7-11, fragments of a shattered Dresden Dolls CD jammed into her skull.
Putting out the Disincarnate album alone is enough to atone for Roadrunner's sins of allowing Methods of Mayhem and the nu-Misfits to enter a recording studio
Conclusion Working in the music industry might sound glamorous, but there's more to the job than the cool stuff you read about in No Glam Fags or The Wild Rag. For every "ZOMG all my dreams are coming true" moment like the time you get to help Donald Tardy wash his 1992 Chevy Luv while he tells you stories about Scott Burns' farts, there's decidedly unglamorous stuff like taking Tom Araya to 8AM Sunday mass with his daughters. We think that getting letters like this make it all worthwhile though, and welcome any other informants like "Green Rage" to share with us!
We don't know anybody at Roadrunner, but if you do, please pass this on to them and ask them to get in touch! There are few labels who have contributed more to metal than they have and we would love to work with them in one way or another. For starters, let's bro down with Mike from Killswitch and talk to him about the rad Devastation "Idolatry" longsleeve he wore when I saw Overcast in 1998.
A quick detour through bummer-ville
The best song from Left With Nothing's criminally underrated EP- check out a live version here. They were a rare combo of fun but also super intense and emotional, like Seattle's other ex-Trial/Undertow/Himsa regretcore band Everything Went Black, and I had a lot of fun at their shows.
Sorry to end on such a serious note, but we would like to express our sadness for the recent loss of Brian Redman, formerly of RR band 3 Inches of Blood. I knew him from the Seattle hardcore scene, where he played in Trial and the really-fucking-great-but-unknown Left With Nothing, one of my favorite Seattle hardcore bands. He was funny, friendly, and had a motherfucking INTEGRITY tattoo on his chest- you really can't fuck with that! I wasn't BFFs with him, but many of my Washington friends were and he is dearly missed.
The name of this band was brought up by one of our readers a couple of weeks ago. Upon reading it, I was instantly transported to another time (1992)...a time when my brother would spend entire weekends reading and writing letters with tape traders from places like Romania, Ecuador and Turkey. Back then, our mailbox was consistently packed with demos from noise, grind and death metal bands from all over the world, most of them completely awful. It's within that context that I remember the name Pyogenesis, and as such I quickly wondered what had happened to them since. Through the magic of the interweb, my thirst for knowledge was quickly quenched via the video below. Listen to the music and be amazed a this group of germans who never met a style of music they didn't like. Much like the awful buffet restaurants that have pizza, and pasta, and chinese food, and ice cream, and Indian food, and sushi...the mix is interesting but odd at the same time. Think about the awkward teenager in your high school (perhaps it was you) who bounced around from subculture to subculture. That teenager is Pyogenesis. As the music starts to take a decidedly pop-punk twist, remind yourself that these guys were metal enough to have been on Osmose Productions, and some of the members were in Gut. With an impecable metal resume like that (I'm kinda' joking, in case you can't tell) their change in musical direction is even more amusing. Notice that this clip only features their evolution until 2002...by now they're probably composing rock operas, and "dropping" mix tapes that feature Lil' Wayne.
Oh, and who could forget their semi-techno cover of Toto's "Africa"?
Invisible Oranges "Now That's What I Call Slam" mixtape Cosmo Lee and the gang at Invisible Oranges have a very literate, smart take on metal that's as rare as it is considered. Naturally, you must be thinking "What the fuck are YOU doing on that site, then?!" I am as puzzled as you are, but I was super stoked to put together a selection of crushing slamz for them that you can download over at IO (including the cover that you see above). In Cosmo's words:
If John Waters blogged about metal, the result would be Metal Inquisition. The site is mean as hell, yet culturally astute. It trawls society's backwaters and exposes insecurities for public ridicule. Blogger Sergeant D is especially adept at this. The man has some of the strangest tastes I've ever seen. He'll champion old-school powerviolence, then turn around and stick up for crunkcore and "wigger slam" metal (his term). He actually likes that stuff.
I have been a huge John Waters fan since I was about 9 years old, so it would be hard to come up with a more flattering comparison than that- I'm blushing!
As usual, I turn to Guttermouth to articulate my feelings
Predictably, the No Fun Club showed to rain on the parade and get butthurt because I used the word "wigger." You can read the comments and see for yourself, but I foolishly made the mistake of attempting to extend the olive branch to them, forgetting the most fundamental characteristic of the NFC: Nothing you do will ever, ever be good enough for them. They sit atop their throne of Adbusters back issues, clipping coupons for Howard Zinn bobbleheads and passing judgment on mouthbreathing savages like me who "just don't get it." I tried to explain that when I make wigger jokes, the humor is based on the fact that it's a fucking completely retarded term, so perhaps we were on the same page after all. But it was all in vain: as expected, they weren't having it. Every word I typed was more proof of what a Neanderthal I am, because you just can't win with these dickholes.
If you are in the No Fun Club, I think we will never be on the same page. You hate fun, and I love it. We are natural enemies, like Mordred and non-funky beats. So get fucked, and instead of reading my posts, spend that time with a select group of your brightest friends circle-jerking to Kent McClard/Aaron Turner* slashfic stories or whatever it is that you do while I'm listening to Infernal Revulsion and texting your sister. Read more / download "Now That's What I Call Slam" at Invisible Oranges
* No offense meant to Aaron Turner, he seems like a chill dude and was super cool the few times I've interacted with him- it's not his fault beardos like the records he puts out.
Something Awful "Garbage Day: Stuff You Will Hate" On a happier note, this guest post on Something Awful's Garbage Day with Andrew Miller was legitimately an honor. Something Awful is a legendary site that's up there with a select few like 4chan and Hipster Runoff in terms of retarded internet humor made by really smart people, and I've been a huge fan for a solid decade. We sent each other links to some shitty songs on YouTube, then made fun of them. Pretty simple but pretty great. MI readers will especially appreciate Andrew's comment on the amazingly wigged-out new video from Despised Icon, featuring a "Deez Nuts" shirt and 40-tipping, among other things:
What "I'm on a Boat" did to Autotuned R&B, the "Day of Mourning" video does unintentionally to tough-guy deathcore. Given that it's more of a farce than most parodies, someone involved in its production must have realized it was fucking hilarious. I can imagine the director's instructions: "Yes, wear the 'Deez Nuts' shirt, the contrast between the tragic graveside scenes and the whimsical slogan will be poignant!" And "I'm going to play some nĂ¼-metal during the performance scenes, and I want you to gesture and altogether behave as though that's the music that's really accompanying the video. I'll change the soundtrack in post-production. The effect will be transcendent! What? Oh no, you can evade any rap-metal stigma, as long as you wear your baseball caps with the bills facing forward." Then I can see him stuffing a towel in his mouth and grinding his teeth through the threads as he tries to stave off hysterics.
It's a testament to SA's advanced-level technique that Andrew was one of the few people to realize that the only kind of music I genuinely hate is indie rock. He sent me videos from Jay Reatard, Yacht, and a few others that had my blood boiling in seconds- no easy task! His only misstep was giving me a song from Fight Fair, who are one of my favorite bands. But hey, nobody bats 1000. Passion Pit made me want to smash my own fingers with a ballpeen hammer out of sheer beard-induced rage:
This is music for beardos with pot bellies and a live-in girlfriend. To borrow a line from Henry Rollins, starting a band like this is like breaking into your parents' liquor cabinet and drinking the light beer. Why are these fucking assholes smiling so much? Does it feel THAT GOOD to prance around in a sweater and glasses? Did they just see a life-affirming independent film about how amazing poor people and retards are? Maybe they're thinking about all the cool stuff they just bought off Etsy, or how much better they feel about themselves now that they've switched to Fair Trade Coffee, I don't know.
Thanks to Andrew and the gang at SA, you're welcome on MI any time!