Posts tagged ‘metal’
All done by yours truly, and I’m racking my brains trying to remember who else on Headbanger’s Ball has good videos to plunder.
I love how the watermarks add more lowbrow ambience while beckoning the viewer to come participate.
I stumbled across this on YouTube – the making of Motley Crue’s “Looks That Kill” video – and damn Nikki is pretty in that eyeliner.
I love this interview, gods only know what he’s on while he’s giving it. “And that’s why we want the kids to come see us, because we’re positive.”
Good gods, 1994. Remember when everybody was just pissed about the new, slow, “progressive” sound? Before Napster hit the fan?
Three thoughts:
1) The Mustaine-Hetfield schism will be raging on 60 years after one or both parties have died;
2) Tom Araya is the world’s largest imp;
3) We are all Jersey.
For the record, I would have died and gone to heaven if I’d gotten to see the band during the Puppets era. The reason we hate them so much is because we loooooooved them so much.
The whole thing is here.
(Via Illogical Contraption.)
So Dave Mustaine has an autobiography that just came out, and last week I found out he’d be on Fifth Avenue today. I was under the impression that he’d be doing a reading, and the spectre of Dave channeling the power of his prose was too tempting to resist, what inflections his voice would take on when hitting the inevitable passages about James Hetfield’s various assholisms. Seriously, what an incredible soap opera it’s been, Metallica vs. Megadeth. This is some of the best music that’s ever been made, period, surrounded by gargantuan egos and animosity that’s been simmering for decades. And Dave’s snarling stage persona, honed from years of arena shows, taking the podium at the Midtown B&N? How could I not attend?
Unfortunately, it turned out to be just a signing. Bleah. I went in anyway and was halfway up the escalator when I heard a guy yelling. OH MY GOD! DAVE! DAAAAAAVE! OH MY GOD! DAVE! And what timing – not ten feet away as I hit the top, that mop of strawberry-blonde hair walking over to the signing table. I tried to get a pic of him in these genteel, literary surroundings, but the staff were pretty zealous about no cameras, and no standing around gawking at him, and really not being able to have anything to do with it at all unless you were buying his book and lined up in the cattle chute.
I found out that their zealousness didn’t extend to locking the Rockstar Room’s door. Not that Dave Mustaine’s toasted panini sandwiches are earthshattering news or anything, but I really hate it when people get all velvet rope about photography and whatnot. It immediately puts me in the mood for transgression, however mild and ridiculous.
It was really tempting to dash in and grab one of the half-eaten cookies and go find the OH MY GOD! DAVE! guy and hand it to him and tell him “Dave Mustaine has just eaten half of this cookie!” just to see what he’d do. Also, that 1990 Rust in Peace longsleever was right there for the grabbing by anybody headed for the bathrooms. (No, I didn’t. That’s not cool.) Rather dumb that nobody in the entourage thought to pull the door shut.
Good to know if I ever end up penning a runaway bestseller and my rabid fans storm the local bookstores in demand of my dulcet tones, that this is the kind of lurid backstage debauchery I have to look forward to.
I’ve seen the Black Veil Brides get spanked on another blog already, and could only get about two minutes in before clicking away in total disgust, but this post at Decibel did a beautiful job nailing just how awful this is. I can’t even begin to unpack everything that’s wrong here – L.A. Guns was never, ever meant to meet emo – suffice it to say the blogger summed it up perfectly with “pentacle-shaped waterbed.”
Oh, this movie looks like FUN. I dug JGL in Mysterious Skin, and then loved him in Brick, and then absolutely adored him when he hosted Saturday Night Live and opened up with the “Make ‘Em Laugh” number from Singin’ in the Rain. And now, throwing scuzzball attitude in Hesher. I’d watch this anyway even if it wasn’t him in the title role, but I’m quite enjoying this departure from his usual impeccability.
Also: men in bands, the time has come to liberate yourselves from the prison of hair product and swiping your bangs sideways. Seriously, stop.
(Via Pajiba.)
If religion functions both to explain the world – providing models for how to live, tenets of faith and empowerment, and comfort for when they don’t work – and to offer a sense of contact with something greater than oneself, then heavy metal surely qualifies as a religious phenomenon. But mystical metal draws upon the power of religious traditions without obeisance to any. One sociologist, observing teenagers’ use of metal to carve out social space and experience communion there, referred to Led Zeppelin as “liberation theology in vinyl.”
- Robert Walser, Running with the Devil: Power, Gender, and Madness in Heavy Metal Music
Danzig loves the kitty cats. The man who wrote “Angelfuck,” “Snakes of Christ” and “Last Caress” (I got something to say, I raped your mother today) lives with no less than four feline companions, two of whom are recent rescues from a local shelter. When one furry friend emerges from an adjacent room, Danzig asks her aloud if she’s hungry. “Her name is Ryuko,” he explains. “It means ‘dragon daughter.’ She’s the oldest.”
He then launches into a brief play-by-play as the animal makes its way across the hardwood floor. “Now she’s going into her little house… she’s really smart. There’s a cabinet in there”—he points to the kitchen—“and she figured out how to open the door… there’s shelves in there, and she goes in there like it’s her own little apartment.”
The Dark Prince of New Jersey turned to gushing puddle of adoration by feline wiles = dying to see this on YouTube. Along with the Danzig Kitty House.
(Via Decibel.)
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