The day that Dave Murray blew me off

You have to love the reddish/orange skin color that british people get when they drink too much and are left out in the sun too long.

A few years ago, I was meeting up with a friend in the streets of Manhattan. It was an incredibly cold day, and I didn't have any gloves on. One of the things you have to love about New York (and there aren't many) is that you can basically go out into the streets nude, and within five seconds you can buy an entire outfit, a wallet, gold chains, a fake rolex and a Louis Vuitton purse for about $5...all from street vendors.




On that day, I went up to a street vendor who looked to be Middle Eastern, and asked him how much he wanted for a pair of gloves. "Five dollah for glove. But for you my friend, four dollah. You need lady gloves." Okay, I should tell you that I'm a rather short man, a manchild if you will. People often think I'm a good bit younger than I am...and now this guy was saying I needed women's gloves because of my size? Oh, hell no. After he said it, he chuckled a bit. I was insulted. I mean, is there anything lower than a street vendor? I was getting made fun of by the lowest form of life. I disregarded his comment, and tried on the men's gloves in order to show him that my man-sized hands needed man-sized gloves. Sadly, he was right. They were gigantic on my small child-like hands. With my tail between my legs, I gave him four dollars and took the smaller, women's gloves.

Why on earth am I telling you this story? Because much in the same way that a street vendor once made fun of me, the other lowest form of human life that exists on this planet also made fun of me once...and in a very inventive way. I am talking, of course, about Dave Murray of Iron Maiden.

Can you tell which of the pictures above is of the Cryptkeeper and which one is of Dave Murray? I sure can't.

Dave Murray, or the Crypkeeper as I like to call him is a dick. Let me tell you why. Some years ago, Mr. Awakening (a founding member of M.I. who is now too good to post anymore) and I went to see Iron Maiden. We had pretty good tickets, and were excited to see the show. As we walked around and looked for redneck metalheads to make fun of, we were elated to find an unusual surprise in the midst of the audience. There, for no reason at all, walking around the crowd was none other than Rick Ta Life. This was unusual, as this concert was not taking place near New York City, New Jersey or any other places were such creatures are often seen in the wild. It was as majestic as seeing a cheetah in its native environment.

Nice bullet proof vest, I guess. I wonder if he knows that it looks like he's an umpire behind home plate, or that he's wearing an apron so he can get some baking done at his mom's house.

Okay, so let's put Rick To Life aside for a minute, because that's not what this story is about. There we were, enjoying ourselves, listening to Motorhead play from afar. I was talking to some people, showing them my new phone. I was a relatively late adapter of cell phone technology, and was rather proud of my Sony Ericsson handheld device. In retrospect, the phone was a piece of crap, and Mr Awakening had the same phone as I did...only he kept and used his until last year! The phone looked a bit like this one, but crappier and older.


The one function I loved the most about the phone was its camera. This being a long time ago, the camera was actually not integrated into the phone. Weird, I know. The camera was actually a small device that you plugged into the phone in order to take pictures. Anyway, as I was showing off my cool new phone, I saw an unmistakable sight off in the distance. I saw a tall man with a huge orange pumpkin face. The pumpkin-faced man had a head as round and large as a tortilla, and he proudly wore what looked like lace-up boxing boots and spandex pants. I asked myself, who is this man? Spandex? Pumkin face? Is it Lance Armstrong with a pumpkin on his head getting ready to box someone? I was confused by this dadaist creature. As I looked more closely, I saw that it was certainly Dave Murray of Iron Maiden. His dried up hair resembled straw, and his crater-like acne scars were visible all over his disgusting pumpkin face.

Who knew that british guys in metal bands were into Tommy Bahama clothing? If you like Dave's shirt, please look here, for more great fashion statements courtesy of Tommy Bahama.

Since I was so excited about my new camera phone, I told everyone that I was showing my phone to that I was about to go get a picture with Dave. I started to walk up to the toritlla-faced cryptkeeper. I should tell you that I was doing this as a bit of a joke, being that I also have pictures with the likes of Manowar and Danzig. Anyway, as I went up to him, I clearly saw his backstage passes, his Maiden shirt, his receding hairline, and finallyl got a better view at his huge jackolantern face. I saw him there, standing quietely, looking off into the distance. He was drinking a beer by the hot dog stand, looking bored. Wasting no time, I went up to him and said "Hey, can I get a picture?" I showed him my awesome Sony Ericsson phone, to clarify what I meant. Quickly, and without much thought he responded in a British accent with a slight lisp (another clear sign that it was indeed the pumpkin faced Murray.) "No mate, I'm not Dave from Iron Maiden." At first, I thought he was joking. I hadn't even said who I thought he was, and yet he knew I wanted a picture with "Dave from Iron Maiden." I said "Ah come on. I have a new phone, I want a picture." He looked at my phone and said "Nah, everyone thinks I'm Dave Murray...but I'm not. Sorry mate." Perhaps he was offended by my crappy phone? I didn't know what to make of his response. Did all British people seriously say "mate" that much? I was confused.




At this point, there was little I could do. The people I was with were looking at me from afar, wondering what was going on. I had to walk away, and forget the whole thing. So I did, or at least I tried to. As I left the large shadow that his huge head created (sans picture), I heard a female voice say "Oh my god, are you Dave Murray!", I then heard Dave respond "Oh yes I am!" I turned around to see Dave hugging two forty-something moms in leather pants, posing for a picture with them. I stood there in disbelief. Apparently Dave was not aware of the motto that all men should abide by. Bros before Hos. After he posed for a picture with them, he talked to them briefly and took them through a gate into the backstage area. Although I fully understood that he had a sudden man-urge and needed to be with these aging metal mamas, I was also aware of how badly I had just been blown off. I briefly pictured the aging women kissing his acne scars, as well as the crackling sound that his brittle hair made as the leather clad rednecks ran their hands through it. I was pissed. When I got back to our group of friends I retold the story, and they all laughed at me. Perhaps what made it worse was that I wanted the picture as a joke. I was not a mad fan who had to have a picture with Mr Tortilla face, I just wanted a funny picture I could send to friends. Half an hour later, Maiden hit the stage...and there was Dave Murray, wearing the Maiden shirt, spandex pants and boots I had just seen him wearing as he escorted the ladies into his love lair.




To this day, when I see a picture of Dave Murray I recoil in horror, and not just because of his Garbage Pail Kids-like bulbous face, his acne scars or his receding hairline. I recoil because like the street vendor, he managed to mock me for no reason at all...when in reality I'm clearly higher up in the food chain than both of them. I mean, aren't I? Perhaps not. Perhaps both stories actually prove that I'm below both of them in the grand scheme of things...and maybe that's why I'm so pissed.

Because I'm still confused about this ordeal, and I don't know how to end this post, I will leave you with this video of the "manualist" playing some Maiden. He's really just an extra from The Sopranos sitting on his camouflage couch in Jersey, but perhaps he can help us all reach some closure. Enjoy.

Screamo crunk comes to life: BrokeNCYDE / Hollywood Undead show review

If you're lucky, I'll summon the will to go to the upcoming Kottonmouth Kings show

It's no secret that I love screamo crunk, so you can imagine how excited I was when I saw that Hollywood Undead were playing... and with the infamous BrokeNCYDE of all bands!! It's like a dream come true! In case you couldn't see them in your town, here's my review of the show so you can live vicariously through me and have a little piece of the BC13 magic.

This is when they were chanting something about "Brokencyde, suck my dick."

BrokeNCYDE

BrokeNCYDE (aka BC13) opened the show and I was completely fucking stoked to see them. Since some you guys seem confused about this, I like BC13 about half-ironically, depending on the mood I'm in. If I'm wasted and either hanging out with a girl or about to be, I'm pretty into them. If I'm sober and acting like a grown up I can't really handle them. In any case, they started at 7:00PM and I was already fairly drunk because I'd been waiting around the venue for an hour and a half with nothing to do. Well, nothing to do except drink and talk to whatever girls were around who looked like I wouldn't go to prison if I said hi to them. I was hoping to at least get the chance to eyefuck some trainwreck scene girls, but I really didn't see any girls at all that were particularly hot. Kind of disappointing.

You have probably seen the video for "Freaxxx," but this song ("Get Crunk") is even more awesome/retarded

We ended up chatting up a mom/daughter pair that my friend was pretty into. The mom gave me her number. I wasn't really feeling it, but my friend was trying to feel her daughter. I also ended up getting some other girl's number, she was some 27 year-old midwest type with recently-installed fake tits (which I felt after she said "Feel them, they feel fake as shit!!"). She was cool enough but you know the type... she had on a Hurley sweatshirt or something, American Eagle jeans, and white Nike running shoes (not cool ones), and I can't handle that. Still, I did feel her tits so that counts for something.

My friend with the mom/daughter combo

When they started playing I felt like all my dreams were coming true all at once!! I seriously couldn't believe that it was actually happening. I mean, BC13 is basically the most ridiculous pop culture phenomenon of all time, and was just like "Holy fuck, this is actually happening!! This isn't just a dumb internet joke, this band really exists and these kids are 100% non-ironic!" As much as I wish I could pretend to be completely non-ironic here, I realized that I was on a different level than these kids who clearly had no idea that there was anything ridiculous about Brokencyde. With lyrics like these, I have a hard time seeing how that's possible, but it's true:

I can tell by the way she licks her lips.
That we're going to fuck tonight!
OMG I can not live like this.
Will someone take my life!
Here's a knife, go ahead and slice my wrist.
I'm not emo, but I'd rather be dead then with this bitch!!!

Pick up your pants girl!
We're not drunk enough to get it on.
I need viagra!
Cause you're too ugly to turn me on.
I saw your picture.
My Myspace has never done me wrong.
Until tonight girl. You're not my type girl!!!

The other thing that occurred to me is that BC13 represents a changing of the guard in that the kids have finally figured out how to make music that offends and disgusts a generation of people who grew up listening to bands with names like Millions of Dead Cops, Regurgitation, Carcass, Ulcerous Phlegm, etc. I used to jam the Meatshits or whatever and think to myself, "Man, I have no idea how anybody could top this stuff, but I know someone will. I don't know how they'll manage to offend me and my peers, but I know they will." Well, now I know how, and I am happy I got to witness it live! It's pretty fun to google for Brokencyde and read everybody's clueless, butthurt comments about them, but this is only person I've found who actually gets it:

God - spare me the hate spewing “critics”! This music is not about listening to seasoned professional musicians. It’s about these young guys who put sounds together with a keyboard and computer and came up with something cool. It’s about dance beats, trash talking and having a good time. It’s raunchy, sexual, I’m sure it’s making parents toes curl around the world, AND it’s leaving people like you scratching your head saying “wtf?”. Sounds to me like a recipe for success. The next generation is ready to embrace “their” shocker. Posts like this only helps to solidify that perception.

Like you, the Christian retard who sings for Senses Fail (who played this show with BC13) sounds like a confused grandparent when he talks shit on his tourmates:

Yeah, I slam them every night because in no way, shape or form do I back anything they do or say and I am embarrassed that kids these days are into it and am sad that kids these days are exposed to it. There is absolutely no substance whatsoever in their songs and no passion in anything they do. It is the musical equivalent of a snow cone, bland tasting frozen tap water loaded with sugar, yet colorful, that will give you a brain freeze, melt all over your hands leaving yourself dissatisfied and sticky.

Yes, he is a dumb Christian who obviously hates fun, but he does have a point when he says that there is no passion. I have to admit I was pretty disappointed in their live performance. First of all, they were just wearing baggy t-shirts and unremarkable jeans. Where were the alt-bro shutter shades, the neon parkas, the purple skinny jeans?! I paid for a spectacle, dammit! They went through the songs fairly lifelessly. I'll be honest, I didn't find their performance to be particularly crunk. The kid on the left fiddled with knobs on their drum machine or whatever, and the other two guys rapped lethargically.

The guy on the left, holy fuck... he's got a face made for radio.

It might not have been their best show, but I'm still pretty stoked that I'll always be able to say I witnessed BC13 in the flesh!! In 17 years or so, when everybody is nostalgic for this shit, I can start a blog called "Scene Inquisition" and tell dumb stories about the time I saw a dude from The Devil Wears Prada at Starbucks (this happened last summer).

I don't have pictures of these bands so here is this one instead. Sup ladies.

Haste the Day / Senses Fail
I barely remember these bands, I was at the bar most of their sets. The only thing I remember is spin kicking and punching some kids 90s moshcore style, which I didn't recall until I woke up the next morning with bruised knuckles. They were pretty good if you're into Christian moshcore... I mean they're no Strongarm, Focal Point or Crucified, and definitely not Unashamed (so fucking good!), but they were a good diversion.

Apologies for the blurry photo, but it pretty accurately captures how I felt and my fuzzy memories of the night

Hollywood Undead
Now here is a band that I like 100% non-ironically. OK maybe like 98% non-ironically... but you get the point. I don't like anything 100% non-ironically, not even Pantera. I interviewed Funny Man (one of the guys in Hollywood Undead), but he pressed the button on my voice recorder that erased the recording, so I don't have that to add to this post. He was a cool guy and the interview was fun, basically we just talked about how dumb it is when people hate on the West Coast, especially Southern California. Also, he said that while Brokencyde might get more ass on tour, Hollywood Undead get higher-quality ass. I didn't witness anything to confirm or deny it, but it seems like it would be true to me. I didn't really talk to any of the other guys in the band for more than a second, but they seemed cool too.

I played this song for my friend at work a while ago, and she said "Wow they wrote a song about your life."

Their set was super fun and I had a great time, but I have to be honest... after witnessing the postmodern, mash culture extravaganza that is BC13, anything short of Mila Kunis proposing to me would have been a letdown. They opened with "Undead," played most of the record, and closed with "Everywhere I Go." I went home, changed clothes, and went to some DIY show at a warehouse where I drank more, unsuccessfully tried to chat up some indie girl, and drew graffiti in my friend Chris' book until 3 or something when I passed out. All in all, one of the best nights I've had in years!

Glen Benton—You lied to all of us. You said you'd kill yourself.

I don't know if any of you remember, but in interviews throughout the 90s, Glen Benton said that he would kill himself in the year 2000, which is when he would turn 33. He often referenced the song "Sacrificial Suicide", and its line "Sacrifical suicide, Ritual to end my life." The whole reason why he would kill himself was unclear, but had something to do with living a life that was opposite to Jesus. If I remember correctly, Jesus died at 33, so I don't know how ALSO dying at 33 would be the opposite of...well, dying at 33. This gets into a whole thing of what kind of satanist Benton claimed to be. If you are ever really, really bored start looking into this...what kind of satanist so and so is/was. Some believe in god, but worship satan as Benton did. Euronimous believed in theism, and said all humans should be slaves to religion. Some believe an inversion of christian dogma is stupid, some think it's good...it goes on and on.

But back to Benton finally ending our collective pain by dying on purpose. As a result of these interviews where Benton promised that I'd finally be rid of him, I eagerly awaited the year 2000. Unlike other people, I wasn't anxious about Y2K. I was not psyched about listening to the Prince song five million times, oh no. I had higher hopes. I had hopes of Glen Benton finally being dead. Sadly, it was not to be. As you can tell my the semi-recent picture of Glen with a basket of fruit, he's still very much alive. I also know he's alive because he recently commented on the VH1 show "Rock of Love" on his MySpace blog. I thought he'd be more of a Tool Academy kinda' guy...but either way, he's still alive. Lame.

Glen, I know exactly how you feel. This is exactly the face I make when I realize you're still alive.

Glen is in his 40s now. He's a dad these days, and often talks in interviews about taking his kids to school, doing laundry, and about how he wears a hat to cover up his forehead from time to time.

What Benton's kid probably looks like.

While I applaud his ability to not take himself very seriously these days, I can't help but remember how he portrayed himself back in the early 90s. You can attribute his stupidity to youth, but I never acted like a complete asshole then. I've been criticized by some readers for bringing this very thing up about numerous bands on many occasions. Let me be clear, as a youngster, I never thought that Glen Benton was an evil overlord who lived in a dark castle somewhere. You see, I lived in Florida at the time that Deicide were getting popular, and I knew he probably lived in a horrible apartment just like the one my family lived in, but in Tampa. Still, it was easier to take him seriously before he started claiming he had seen bigfoot.

Even manly men end up living in apartment buildings like this in Florida. Even if you're into satan, get ready to live in a light yellow, baby blue, or seafoam colored building called something like "Biscayne Breeze".

I understood the theatrics that went into music, even as a kid. I knew that Ace Frehley wasn't from outer space, I knew he was from some neighborhood like Astoria in Queens. So I'm not a complete moron, I guess I just hate it when people break character. You know how some people loved Jimmy Fallon cracking up right in the middle of an SNL sketch? I hated it (Hope our non-american readers excuse the ameri-centric reference.) To me, it would like if Jason Voorhees stopped mid-movie, suddenly started making a fruit salad, took off his mask and started flossing while listening to a self-help audio tape. We all know it's a damn movie...but it would suddenly become a terrible movie. Right? I know that with time, people in bands have a hard time keeping up the persona. They're not actors in a movie, after all. I get it, they are suddenly married, they have kids, and with that comes a membership to Costco or Sam's Club. Soon, they find themselves buying shampoo by the gallon, all in the name of savings.



Glen had to get married in a church at his wife's request, according to the steroid-induced ramblings of the Hoffman brothers. Clearly the guy is scared of his wife, and must have a good sense of humor. I understand, its real life. But perhaps folks like Glen should have been less idiotic, and should have never started portraying a fictitious character to begin with, even in the name of theatrics. Perhaps they shouldn't have burned a damn cross on their forehead, nahmean? You know why I don't have to wear a hat to the store like he does? Because I never burned a cross on my face. Duh. It's for that reason that I always liked Obituary. They're just some dudes who play music, and that's about it. As a little kid, the whole theatric presentation that Kiss had was appealing to me, but I was like six then. At some point you stop being amazed by swords and fake blood...and you just want a good riff. You know? Perhaps I could present my point of view more cohesively, but I'm tired right now.

Okay, I'm probably putting most of you to sleep. Let's get back to Glen and his promise to kill himself. While he was all about it back then, today he has gone as far as saying that his promises of killing himself were "asinine remarks." He may see his comments from the 90s as silly, but I saw them as a legally binding verbal contract. I counted on being free of his music in 2000, and planned my life accordingly. I had dreams of happy days, fantastic years free of Benton and his receding hairline. Now, I'm stuck having to put up with him for who knows how many more years. Ugh. What an unfair world we live in...one where Pauly Shore is taken from us, while Glen Benton still roams the streets. Oh wait, what? Pauly Shore is still alive? Well, never mind.



If any of you are still half-way interested in the aging biker fatso that is Glen Benton, watch the video below. In his video, you will see Glen answer questions from the audience at a show. Have you ever wondered how many times has Glen Benton burned the cross on his forehead? Did his mom ask him to stop burning the cross on his forehead? Find out.