Metal, Hardcore, Punk, Death Metal, Thrash Metal... whatever

Metal, Hardcore, Punk, Death Metal, Thrash Metal... Qwerty and miserable, always wanting more.

Tuesday, November 22, 2016

The time I didn’t see GWAR.


Lee, the author, Darren and Greg- Goofcore masters

As a teen, I was a pretty goofy dude. I loved Lawnmower Deth, Mucky Pup and Scatterbrain and any other band that was, well, GOOFY. I even had my own goofy “goofcore” band, Childish Intent. But the kings of ridiculous, Gwar, really had a hold on me by 1990. I had liked the debut, Hell-o, which I told a friend sounded like a cross between “Naked Raygun and M.O.D.”  but with their second record, Scumdogs of the Universe, I was in love. I bought their live VHS, I had a homemade shirt and an "official" one I bought at Spencer’s Gifts at the mall. Blood, sex, dick jokes, Hilarious.

When it was announced that Gwar would be playing Buffalo during the summer of 1992, I was pretty psyched. Not only that, they were playing the NEW Randall Studios, which, at the time, was my favorite place to go: an old warehouse converted into a “practice space” but was really an illegal venue. I had seen (and played!) so many great shows there from 91-92 that I couldn’t believe I was going to see one of my favorite bands on home turf. I bought a ticket the moment they went on sale; the bar was set high.

The night of the show, I piled into a car with my friend Greg and his girlfriend at the time, Jennifer, and we made the arduous drive to the east side of Buffalo. Her late model sedan (which had broken down a few weeks prior on the way back from another show) sputtered, but my $5 of gas money quenched its thirst and got us to our destination; only to find the show has been moved to another location, the Scrapyard.  

Due to the controversy surrounding Gwar and the high level of exposure the show was getting, Randall got shut down for violating fire code. A crude sign was placed in the alleyway that led to the side entrance let us know we had to sally forth.  We got to the Scrapyard only to find what the other 100 or so people that were standing outside knew; due to the fact that the scrapyard was much smaller than Randall’s, the show was now oversold and the club was beyond capacity, leaving us, who had tickets, out in the literal cold.
I mean really, how cool is this?

We waited for about 45 minutes with the ever diminishing crowd hearing the bouncers repeatedly telling us that we weren’t going to get in, but that our tickets could be refunded the following day. Hunter Jackson, who was the Techno Destructo character with Gwar until about 15 years ago, came around and was standing on the outskirts of the gathered crowd. I recognized him and told him our plight. He said he would put anyone on the list for the Toronto Show coming up the next night. This didn’t work for Greg and I, our own goofcore band was playing that night at the very club we were now stuck outside of.  All was wrong with the world. We decided to cut our losses and left, but our friend Evan refused, Gwar was his favorite band, and I think he was too drunk or high to know what the hell was going on anyway. His tenacity paid off, as right as Gwar’s intro was playing, the bouncer let anyone left outside in, tickets or not. For his dedication, his skin was dyed red with fake blood for the next week.


Something about that night killed Gwar’s magic for me. Maybe it was because none of their follow up records touched the first two or maybe I outgrew grown men in costumes or maybe I just have a hard time crawling back from disappointment; which I think it the underlying theme to a lot of my posts.  But, enough about that; I want to wrap this up with something that made me slowly sift through Gwar's catalog again. In Dec of 2008, Dave Brockie used the lobby of the hotel I was working at to do some press work for the Gwar Canadian tour that was about to start, I found him and Brad (Jizmak) to be cordial and professional. It reminded me of how helpful and friendly Hunter was that night 24 years ago. So many of my childhood and musical heroes have passed away in the time since I’ve turned forty and with the conservative shit show this country is about to see, I think the world could use Brockie’s humor and the goofy middle finger that Gwar is to the world.  

RIP Oderus Urungus, the 18 year old and 42 year old me misses you. 

Saturday, November 5, 2016

1992

Here's a picture of me at the picnic we had right after I graduated high school in 1992. I REALLY tried to match my socks to that shirt. I made that copper "x" straight edge necklace in shop class.
this is me "dressed up"
I only saw Quicksand once, in March of 1991, they were pretty good and set to really become the darlings of progressive hardcore within a year after this photo. I still think they are a good band, even if it took years for the first LP, Slip, to grow on me ( I was BIG into the 7"). I don't know what I was thinking with that hat though,  I guess I would just chalk it up to the 90's... But unlike a lot of you, I took the hat off; you're still living with that tribal tattoo.

Friday, November 4, 2016

It's a dirty job but someone's gotta do it: the redemption of Faith No More

The fucking enemy, circa 1989

I’ll tell you one thing right now; in 1989 I hated mowing my parent’s huge suburban lawn. It was always a “But I was going to Tosche Station to pick up some power converters!” Uncle Owen v. Luke Skywalker type of conversation between my father and I. To power through it, I had two cassettes of choice for my Walkman: Carnivore’s Retaliation and Faith No More’s We Care A Lot. Different approaches to underground music but both had pummeling and effective Drums that pushed me through the hour and a half it took to mow that fucking lawn.

This post isn’t about Carnivore though, but, as you has already guessed, Faith No More. I REALLY like We Care A Lot, to this very day. Mark Bowen, As the Worms Turn, New Beginnings and the title track have literally been stuck in my head for 27 years. The rhythmic drums and bass, subtle and effective metal crunching guitar and Chuck Mosley’s sincere vocal performance strikes a chord with me in a way very few can. People like to bag on Chuck’s voice, but, especially on We Care A Lot, he sells you his imperfect voice taking it to the limit of his ability and beyond. Plus, I think the lyrics are fucking Incredible.  The bombast of the recording is just there, it all works for me. I like the follow up Introduce Yourself (The Crab Song, Death March, COME ON!) and the first LP after Chuck’s departure, The Real Thing, but the band lost me after that, their sound changed too drastically and the vibe was lost on me.  To make matters even worse, when I went to see them in October of 1992, they weren’t very good. It was probably an off night for them, but I’m not huge into Mike Patton or Angel Dust, so I’m sure that had something to do with it. To make FNM even less compelling, Helmet, who opened the show, literally JUST STOOD THERE, and smoked Mike and company right off stage.

I moved to Northern California a year ago, away from the gray and white frigid winters of Buffalo, NY and into the green lushness that is the Napa Valley. Being an hour north of San Francisco allowed me the opportunity to see a gig I’d never thought I’d see: Faith No More, fronted by Chuck Mosley, performing only songs from the first two records, including We Care A Lot in its entirety.  They announced it on a Tuesday, with the show being two days later on a Thursday. I had to go and bought a ticket within minutes of the announcement. Solid.
Oddly enough, the show was on August 18th, exactly (to the day, even) 25 years after the only time I met Chuck Mosley, who was then fronting the classic hardcore punk band, Bad Brains (who were surprisingly VERY good with him as a front man). That day, in August 1991, I had no idea he was their singer at the time, and I happened to be wearing an Introduce Yourself shirt at the show. Before the Bad Brains set, Chuck came up to me put his arm around me, pointed to the shirt and said “Every little bit helps.”  I thought it was so fucking awesome, I remember it like it was yesterday.
Flyer borrowed from my friend Larry's abandoned Buffalo hardcore history page 
25 years later, I was out front of the Great American Music Hall with one of my few friends I’ve made up here, Matt, and who walks by but Chuck Mosley, smoking a cigarette and looking lost and burnt out. Matt commented that he wanted to take Chuck’s picture, but was reluctant to disturb him, as diehard FNM fans were crowding around him for selfies and handshakes. I shared my Bad Brains story and told Matt I’d take action; I walked up to Chuck and showed him a jpeg of the flyer from 1991 and gave him a big hug, letting him know that taking the time to acknowledge the 17 year old me 25 years ago meant a lot. He chatted for a few moments talking about how bummed he was that “Doc” (Dr. Know, the Brain’s guitar player) was sick. He also told a story about how the day after Buffalo, in Ithaca, HR (or “Paul” as he called him) the original singer of the Bad Brains, had come on stage and done a few of the songs, free-styling a vocal melody over one of their reggae jams. He was so into the story, trying to sing the melody to us and saying he’s ripped it off; using in every band he’s been in ever since, because it was so epic.  I was just so shocked at how really burnt out he was as he flipped through his phone to add to his stories. I then turned and said, “This is my friend Matt, he’d like to take your picture.” Click. Done.
The portrait of the failed artist as a young man
Inside, the crowd was a mixture of punk, metal and middle aged people. Roddy Bottom, who I think is dating this guy Jon who used to occasionally hang out at my old apartment in Amherst, was just mingling in the crowd with obvious longtime friends. Having been in a band, I guess the hometown show is kind of the same for everyone; a place to run into friends and family who have supported you from the beginning and don’t get to see as much. The opener was a terrible performance artist who rolled around the stage wearing a shroud making Godzilla and chicken sounds. Then, Chuck did an acoustic set which, in all honesty, wasn’t very good. It was obvious he was nervous, but the crowd’s reaction to his solo rendition of Death March warmed him up a bit and by the time his acoustic act became the actual full on Faith No More show, he seemed more relaxed.  The set list was fucking amazing with the energy building and releasing then building and exploding, lather, rinse, repeat:
The Crab Song
Introduce Yourself
The Jungle
As the Worm Turns
Greed
Spirit
New Beginnings
Arabian Disco
Mark Bowen
We Care a Lot
Why Do You Bother?
Pills for Breakfast
Anne's Song
look at that beautiful banner
I bought the 30th anniversary reissue of We Care A Lot and a shirt, which being soft spun, hugs my lumpy body strangely, but I’ve worn it every few weeks since. The best thing is, I got to hear some of the greatest songs ever written live and I didn’t even have to touch a lawnmower to do it. All Photos by matthewkadi.com

Thursday, November 3, 2016

Danzig and I, Part 2: Orgy Sounds?

The author circa 1999. Ignore that awesome attempt at facial hair
This is a follow up to part one from 6 years ago.

I think the late 90’s were a time nearly completely devoid of good music. Those of us who invested time is some sort of “underground” music scene had just fought off the big business of alternative rock as hard as we could, only to have "nu metal" explode and bring an even bigger type of douche bag sniffing around. Everyone suddenly went from trying to show how introverted and emotional they were to showing how fucking “extreme” they were. People were down with the sickness, doin’ the Dew, all for the nookie, feeling like a freak on a leash, and generally annoying as fuck.
Take us seriously.
Even Glenn Danzig, after the huge misfire of Danzig 5: Blackacidevil enlisted the help of two of the fucking guys from Orgy to mix his 6th album- Satan’s Child. I have mixed feelings on the record, 17 years later and though I saw Danzig many times during the touring cycle for it; latex shirts, rubber pants (Todd Youth, I’m looking at you) and the bass player’s baggy board shorts just made me wonder what his new backup band had against black jeans and looking/ being cool. Still, The Dorkzig era was pretty decent live and much better than what was going on during the tour for 5. The most exciting part of the announcement for the initial Satan’s Child US tour was that Samhain, Glenn’s prior band and kind of the transition band from the Misfits to Danzig, was going to perform each night. I felt at the time, and still feel to this day, that Samhain is the only one of Danzig’s bands that is untarnished.
My friends and I bought up tickets as soon as they went on sale for the Cleveland gig in November of ’99 and made the nearly 3 hour trek. Our money and time was not wasted;  Samhain belted out a seriously intense set. At the time, I thought that Samhain had largely been forgotten about, but people lost their damned minds during the set and I was no exception.
Samhain
Black Dream
All Murder, All Guts, All Fun
He-Who-Can-Not-Be-Named
Unholy Passion
All Hell Breaks Loose
Misery Tomb
To Walk the Night
In My Grip
Mother of Mercy
Halloween II
November's Fire
The Birthing
The most interesting thing about the show was that right after the blood soaked Samhain set was over, two members swapped out and Danzig played and Glenn’s on stage persona changed. During Samhain’s set, his on stage antics were less rehearsed, more “punk” for lack of a better word, and just raw. During the Danzig set we got the same, fired up, but disappointingly more “I’m in a rock band” delivery. The set, overall, was decent, with a nice surprise of the ripping Misfits track Earth A.D. at the end, but nothing to write home about, all that was on my mind was Samhain, Samhain, Samhain.
I saw some rather stale Danzig sets the next two years, but in November 2003, I saw the best Danzig show and one of THE BEST shows I have ever seen in Poughkeepsie, NY that as a result of directly changed my life and began the career path that I am still on 13 year later. But, as the end of Conan the Babarian says ” that is another story.”

Wednesday, November 2, 2016

The day the music (Anthrax) died

Cool guys, right?
From 1987-1990, the years from 8th grade until my junior year of high school, I certainly did not look “Cool.” Thankfully, there was a band that looked as ridiculous as I did. That band was Anthrax. I didn’t have the personality or good looks to pull off the traditional metal look, but with their goofy attitude and Surfline Original Jams, Anthrax really made me feel like I was one of them. Hell, in 9th grade, I even wrote them an honest to goodness fan letter (that went unanswered, of course). They liked TMNT and Judge Dredd and as an added bonus, as a fledgling guitar player, Anthrax’s simple-yet-effective riffs were relatively easy to figure out, whereas I couldn’t even touch a Metallica or Slayer song; my fondness for them grew with each chug-chugalug of the open E string. 
The author, Christmas 1989 wearing a Sacred Reich shirt
I saw them in their peak of popularity in 1991 and though my tastes were heading towards more extreme music at that time, I still thought very highly of the band and of the thrash metal scene I had invested my interest in for the 4 years prior. Then something happened, something strange and unthinkable; Heavy Metal died. I think I recognized that bands were releasing subpar follow up records in the post Metallica Black Album world, but I was not prepared for the alternative rock boom. I was equally not prepared for Anthrax firing vocalist Joey Belladonna and replacing him with the guy from Armored Saint, whose voice I think straight up sucks (to this day). The Sound of White Noise sounded like they were trying to play the alternative rock game and I hate every fucking minute of it. Post 1993, I ignored Anthrax’s new material mostly, but still jammed Among the Living and State of Euphoria regularly.

Then it happened, the very moment Anthrax turned a corner for me that I couldn’t ignore; I went to see them with the newly reformed “Misfits” in Rochester, NY in May of ’96. They mostly stuck to Bush era songs- stuff I didn’t know or like. Then they threw out a bone to the old school fan, the intro to Among the Living kicked in and my friend John and I started moshing like crazy- “Duh-nuh-nuh-na-chug-chug-chug-chug-chug-chug-chug-chug.” I was so pumped. This is what I wanted- this riff, this moment. 16 year old me had taken control of my 21 year old body, I was metal thrashing mad. Then an open chord was struck and held for a long period of time. There would be no group chant of “Disease! Disease! Spreading the disease!” instead, guitarist Scott Ian yelled into his back up mic, “last chance to mosh- BRING THAAAAAA NOISE!” and fucking mumble mouth Armored Saint guy and Ian slaughtered Public Enemy’s crossover hit. Nail meet coffin. DONE.

I was further insulted a few years later when I was sent a bunch of promo cassettes from the quickly disbanded “Ignition Records” containing the Anthrax single Piss N Vinegar which is fucking Locomotive Breath by Jethro Tull, yes really, they stole the riff and vocal melody from a Tull song, fucking heathens.  Anthrax was so set adrift at that point that they had no fucking idea.

I’m mostly a grown up now, I mean, I’m a dad in my 40’; so I have satellite radio. I hear new Anthrax songs from time to time from their most recent effort, I don’t like it, but fuck; I’m so glad they got rid of fucking mumble mouth John Bush and got Joey Belladonna back.