In a move designed to give committed black metal fans a break from having to spend time around people who consider Dimmu Borgir a true black metal band, billionaire casino owner and former Marduk bassist Sheldon Adelson plans to open the world’s first black metal only golf course and country club. The club will be meant to provide recreational and networking opportunities to those who are true to the cause of real black metal. The club will not allow any fake metal posers to join or even play as guests.
Adelson, a multi-million dollar contributor to political campaigns and groups that deal with social issues, has always felt that the cause of black metal elitism was close to his heart. He has given over 12 million dollars to Black Metal Listeners for Decency, a group that has lobbied the US Congress for several years in order to pass a law that force music retailers to only sell black metal albums to those who can provide valid proof of metal purity. Proof would include a signed letter from Fenriz, pictures of the person burning down a church or skull fragments from Euronymous.
The country club, set on 300 plush acres in the hills of North Carolina, will feature a course designed by legendary golf architect Robert Trent Jones. In spite of the traditional location and set up, the club will feature some unique and somewhat bizarre rules. Only those in corpse paint will be allowed to enter the clubhouse. In order to play the course, members must wear golf spikes as well as an authentic tour shirt from a black metal concert that took place before 1994. The only languages that will be spoken at the club will be Old Norse or Burzamtine, a language developed by Varg Vikernes during his time in prison.
Several poser rights groups have come out in opposition to creating a country club that practices discrimination. Arnold Vespesian, Director of Posers For Equality, and 100 of his followers have descended on North Carolina Sunday and began protesting the opening of the club. Vespasian is appalled that in this day and age a country club could be allowed to restrict its members based on their taste in music. “After all, aren’t people supposed to be judged on the content of their character, not the contents of their IPod? This is America!” announced Vespasian to a cheering group of kids in Cradle of Filth shirts outside of a Hot Topic in Charlotte’s Northlake Mall.
In spite of the protests, the course is still on track for a Spring 2013 opening. The course opening is expected to be attended by some of the top names in black metal and golf including Secthdamon, Tiger Woods and Destructhor.
On Wednesday, God suspended Satan indefinitely from his role as Devil for promising demons as much as 10,000 dollars for each soul they lured into temptation. Satan’s two head assistants, a gargoyle named Thoth and former American President Ronald Reagan, received slightly lighter suspensions of up to 5000 years, but may be reinstated earlier if they successfully complete anger management classes.
While it was well within Satan’s purview to try to encourage poor behavior on the part of human beings, offering cash incentives for their souls was going a step to far. Yesterday, the Lord released a statement highlighting examples of the many violations and stating that this sort of “encouragement towards lawlessness and immorality is outside of the bounds of what we call fair play.”
When confronted with this statement, Satan didn’t hesitate to fire back. “Wait, so I’m getting scolded about morality by the guy was responsible for the extinction of nearly the entire populations of Sodom and Gomorrah. This is the same God who, on a bet, let me destroy the life of one of his most committed servants, Job. You’ll excuse me; I have to go throw up,” sneered Satan as he spat upon the ground.
In Satan’s absence, Venom frontman Cronos has been named Interim Dark Lord until Satan’s reinstatement. Cronos is a veteran of the dark arts having served in Satan’s Army since 1981. Cronos even had brief experience running Hell back in 1986 when Satan broke five of his legs in a terrible water skiing accident.
Cronos has many exciting new plans he has considered for Hell including an open mic night, the addition of all-you-can sin brothels and building a stadium in an attempt to lure the Buffalo Bills to Hell, giving the Underworld its first pro sports team since the 1976 Oakland Raiders.
Experts believe that Cronos is a good fit for the position and could bring untold glory to Hell. However, many fans were disappointed when their first choice, former Giants and Jets coach Bill Parcells, turned the job down. While Parcells was a flashier name, those around the game respect Cronos for his undying commitment to poisoning the human race with heavy metal and believe that he will be the perfect choice to get Hell back on track.
My brother-in-law, BlaK Dan, is at it again. If you’ve been following his saga here at Tyranny, you already know that he lost all his money investing in Amway products and is sleeping on my couch until he “gets on his feet again”. He was living in a cave until a park ranger kicked him and his pet ferret out and now we are stuck with him. He does nothing but parade around our house wearing a Burzum tee-shirt and eating cornflakes out of a Qwik Rabbit mug he’s had since he was 8.
The man has no dreams, no goals other than one day managing a metal message board and playing one note black metal songs “whilst alone in a forest”. In order to keep him busy, my wife has asked me to let him write an occasional metal album review for the blog. Here’s where it gets tricky…he’s now refusing to listen to any metal. He’s decided that he will only write reviews of inanimate objects, because metal music is “unworthy of his talents”. So…here’s another in the endless, intolerable and ever-changing series now known as “BlaK Dan Reviews Ordinary Household Items”.
People who put ketchup on food are idiots. They have no idea of what food in its purest form tastes like. They are animals. They do not have the right to exist. When I am at a diner and a see one of these “people” consuming food with ketchup on it, I know they are sub-humans unworthy of the oxygen that Odin and I provide them with.
This blood-colored ooze spews out of disgustingly shaped bottles and pollutes our food with its hideous sweetness. If you are ever curious as to which amongst you are inferior, here’s a simple test. If they have defiled a perfectly good and pure lump of meat with this syrup of sickness, then you can rest assured that they are degenerate parasites who are wasting the flesh, bone and will that they were born with.
If you use ketchup, it is because you are weak. I refuse to tolerate your weakness. If I had my way, they’d bring back the guillotine and behead each and every one of you cowards. You violate all that is decent in our world then have the temerity to call me intolerant or unclean or in violation of local health code standards or someone who can’t live within 500 yards of an elementary school. It is you that are a pox upon our world, Ketchup-eater. And it is you that should pay the ultimate price for your life of decadence.
You befoul our forests and streams with your civilized blandishments and then wonder why your world is repulsive and depraved. The essence of life is being destroyed by an endless flow of ketchup. Ketchup in the mountains. Ketchup in the valleys. Ketchup in our seas. Ketchup in our forests. Ketchup in our oceans. Ketchup everywhere you look. Ketchup in the name of progress. You have contaminated the world and destroyed all that is sacred.
You think you are so clever. You eat your ketchup and you laugh and laugh and laugh. Ha, Ha, Ha….look at civilized me with my ketchup and my Italian leather shoes. Aren’t I something else? Look at my fancy ketchup eating wife and my two well-dressed ketchup-eating children. Aren’t I unique?
You think because you eat ketchup you have the right to judge me. I am above your judgments. You are slime. Like Zarathustra, I am surrounded by fools and idiots spewing a ridiculous ketchup-soaked morality that is meaningless. MEANINGLESS! I hear your snickers, I see your scorn, but it is you that are vile and you that are impure. If you hadn’t allowed ketchup to taint your world, you would know me and understand that you are unworthy to be in my presence. Instead, I am stuck here in moron hell watching you wallow in ketchup and despising every minute of it. I hate all of you.
The biggest surprise on this year’s Forbes 500 Richest People on The Planet list was a name well known to those who follow black metal. Right below hedge fund manager Steve Cohen and above newspaper magnate Rupert Murdoch stands the name of one of the most revered members of the black metal community, Abbath. While he is mostly known for his guttural vocal wails and sweeping guitar riffs in the band Immortal, he has actually made most of his money from a very strange source. Abbath is the world’s number one distributor of gluten-free products.
After reading a study back in 2002 claiming one in every seven people had an allergy to gluten, Abbath started to think about the millions of people gluten-free products could benefit. Weeks later when Horgh, the drummer for Immortal, was diagnosed with gluten sensitivity Abbath created special gluten-free corpse paint for him to wear on stage. A rash of gluten related issues hit the black metal community in 2003 and Abbath’s makeup began to catch on. This was only the beginning.
In 2005, Abbath discovered the idea that has taken the world by storm and turned him into a multi-billionaire…gluten-free cell phones. “There are so many people whose systems can not tolerate gluten. It can cause terrible side effects that range from severe headaches, to rapid eye movement, to explosive logorrhea. I just wanted to help make a difference for people who wanted not to suffer,” said a wistful Abbath in an exclusive interview with Tyranny of Tradition.
Since Abbath began mass marketing his Non-Celiac Cellphones seven years ago, they have become an important part of the lives of millions of people. His next step in 2007 was to create a gluten-free line of clothing. While gluten-free collared shirts have yet to take off, many stylish French teenagers have taken to recently wearing gluten free pants and socks. Gluten-free capes and fangs became the number one fashion trend in Romania last year.
The war on gluten continued in 2009 with the introduction of gluten-free appliances. It’s hard to make it though a Wal-Mart without seeing one of Abbath’s gluten-free toasters or washing machines. He has even created gluten-free gluten, an invisible substance that cannot be detected by any of the five senses or absorbed by the body. The Pentagon purchased three cases of it for over 12 million dollars last month.
Abbath has major plans for the future. He is currently researching the possibility of gluten-free prosthetic limbs. By 2015, humans could be outfitted with gluten-free arms, legs and even torsos. He has also been working with several space nanotechnology companies in the attempt to create planet-sized, gluten-free computers. A gluten-free spaceship similar to the Death Star from Star Wars is currently in the early stages of production. It would possess a death ray that could extract all of the gluten from a planet while killing all of its inhabitants in less than three seconds.
At 9:32 last night, the creative force behind black metal legends Darkthrone, was arrested at Toronto’s Pearson International Airport with a copy of the 1997 album “Spiceworld”. Apparently, Fenriz was on his way through security attempting to catch a flight to Trondheim when an astute security guard noticed the album in his bag. The album, rapped in coffee beans in an attempt to throw off Spice Girl album sniffing dogs, was confiscated and Fenriz was escorted off to jail. He currently sits in Mimico Correctional Centre awaiting his release on 300,000-dollar bail.
Fenriz, for his part, initially claimed the album was not his, but that he was actually carrying it for an unnamed friend. However, after intense questioning a tired and bewildered Fenriz broke down and admitted that he had purchased the album because he “couldn’t get that ‘Spice Up Your Life’ song out of his head” no matter how hard he tried.
Not only could Fenriz be facing three to five years hard labor for his possession of the album, there is a good possibility that he will be an outcast from the black metal world. The National Association of Black Metal Bands, a 100,000-member organization committed to keeping black metal pure, has already considered banning him from taking part in church burnings for the next five years. They have also considered taking the unheard of step of indefinitely suspending him from throwing parts of animal carcasses into the crowd during concerts.
The only such probation in the past took place in 2003 when Dani Filth was prohibited from using the word “Satan” for one year for what was referred to as “crimes against black metal”. In Filth’s case, the so-called “death penalty” was considered, a sanction that would have been forced to record an entire album of Air Supply covers.
Many metal artists have already come to Fenriz defense. According to Megadeth frontman Dave Mustaine listening to the Spice Girls is not healthy but “at least he wasn’t trying to marry another man or receive free health care like most people in Canada do.” Immortal frontman Abbath also indicated that he’d support Fenriz if he joined a twelve-step Spice Girl rehabilitation program. “Free Fenriz” tee shirts have already been popping up around Norway and Cleveland, Ohio. It’s entirely possible that with a good attorney and the power of prayer, he will overcome this terrible transgression and become an upstanding citizen once again.
The first thing you need to know about seeing a metal show in the American South, Atlanta in particular, is that almost every person in the audience is going to look nearly identical. It’s beyond bizarre. Standing there in the middle of the ballroom floor at The Masquerade, my wife and I could have easily been at a casting call for actors looking to play Slayer’s Kerry King in a movie. Short, squat, bald with scruffy beards, tattoos and black shirts. How do the police ever tell them apart?
The evening started promisingly enough. My wife and I were accosted by some inebriated, bearded lunatic in a panel van who slowed up to tell us his motor was dying, then drove off when he noticed the can of mace my wife was clutching tightly in her right hand. The van, which had an ominous Mothers For Palin sticker emblazoned on the back, had clearly been used in some sort of white slavery ring that we collectively wanted no part of. But these things happen from time to time.
We were there to see In Solitude, but most of the throngs of concertgoers were there to see Down. We had no such plans. We are two middle-aged adults who have learned to value a good night’s sleep over the wild excesses of staying out past 10 to see a band. The original plan had us dipping out by 9 o’clock after the In Solitude set so that we could collapse into an orgy of Chinese food and Friday night re-runs. Unfortunately, The Masquerade pulled the old bait and switch on us and put some highly talented but unfortunately named band called “Pony Killer” on before In Solitude. My wife and I retreated to the benches outside where I was given a Nobel worthy dissertation on the entire life history Jeff Loomis, formerly of the band Nevermore, by some complete stranger with a broken leg wearing a shirt featuring Jesus smoking a cigarette.
As we walked into the club, I noticed Crowbar singer and Charles Addams cartoon character Kirk Windstein standing about 15 feet away from me. I have always loved Crowbar and I thought strongly about getting a picture with him, but I had some concerns. I had met Windstedt once before in Albany, New York when they were opening for Sacred Reich in the mid-90s. Our brief meeting took place as we stood next to each other at a urinal before their band went on. I excitedly stammered, “YOU’RE The GUY from CROWBAR!!!!!” Windstein silently looked straight ahead at the wall and tried to escape my glowing gaze. When I reached my hand out to try to pat him on the back, he sprinted out of the restroom with a terrified look on his face. It was a highly awkward moment that I had repeated over and over in my mind for the last 15 years. Out of sheer concern he might have remembered my poorly timed outburst, I put my head down and kept walking.
I was horribly bored standing in the audience before the set. The thing you forget about shows when you are not there is the pure tedium between bands. Standing on your left foot, then your right, smelling the guy next to you who hasn’t washed his Watain shirt in about five concerts, watching the one lonely guy in the Incantation shirt pace and talk to himself, randomly thinking about how your 401K performed last week. You get a brief rush when the guitar tech comes out to check the levels, then, nothing. Ten more minutes of overhearing conversations about what the real meaning of Black Metal is. Sheer mind-numbing misery.
All of a sudden, I felt my head snap backwards. In a wild rush of incense and power, In Solitude appeared on stage and launched into a violently surging version of “The World, The Flesh, The Devil”. Adrenaline shot through my veins. My pulse went from a calm, resting 60 to an unrestrained, thumping 180 in a fleeting span of seconds. I felt like a had been sleeping in the middle of a highway and raised my head up only to see an 18 wheel tractor trailer bearing down on me. IT had begun.
The way they started out was pure magic. The first thing you notice about In Solitude is presence. Some bands act like they plan to spend the entire show apologizing to you for being up there. Other bands act like they completely and unquestionably belong where they are. They command your attention and hold it unreservedly for the duration of their set. In Solitude falls squarely into the latter camp. They are there for a reason and you WILL understand that reason before they are finished. The stage was simply too small for them. They were hooked uncompromisingly into the Master Cylinder, bringing a message that transcended all other thoughts and ideas that had existed in me up till the moment of their arrival. They demanded complete and total connection and, with their every action, settled for nothing less.
Their set covered most of the critical material from their two albums. The crowd, which was clearly more inclined to listen to slow, lurching southern metal riffs, was won over by the third song. Wild-eyed singer Pelle “Hornper” Ahman managed to work the crowd into a bloodthirsty frenzy through a series of high-pitched shrieks and animalistic antics that ran the gamut from spasmodically shaking his thin frame to ramming the microphone into his head. The only thing I could possibly compare his energy level to are the few live recordings I’ve seen of Paul Di’Anno fronting Iron Maiden at The Ruskin Arms around the time Killers was out. Ahman simply hemorrhages sweat and intensity to the point where you are concerned for his well-being. By the time Down front man and metal legend Phil Anselmo strode out on stage in a Ghost shirt to bellow a few bars of “To Her Darkness” with the band, their was no doubt that this was an act on the precipice of greatness.
There is simply something unique and memorable about In Solitude. They are cut out for greater things. Even my wife, who finds the B-52s to be a bit on the heavy side, seemed deeply impressed with how they carried it. We witnessed something arrestingly powerful last night at The Masquerade and everyone there knew it. The performance seemed to be part of an elaborate first act in a career that will have a lot to say about the direction metal music is going in.
Reconciling your life as a headbanger with your life as the parent of small children is not always easy. Questions like “Should I play my 3 year old the entire Bathory discography before he starts kindergarten?” or “Should she really be wearing that Gorgoroth onesie to her 2nd birthday party?” are standard fare for metalheads who have decided to become parents. Thanks to the wonders of capitalism, there is a purchase that solves nearly every possible human dilemma. This case is no exception. A company known as Rockabye Baby! has lullaby renditions of some of your favorite metal and hard rock artists. If you want to fill your child’s head with Black Sabbath, Tool or Nine Inch Nails songs as they drift off into dreamland, you can do it!
I recently picked up the crown jewel in the Rockabye Baby! collection, Lullaby Renditions of Metallica. The description on the website said the following…” Say your prayers, little one. Tonight these gentle versions of Metallica’s essential masterpieces of metal will gently rock you to sleep. Enter sandman.” I had to buy it. Immediately.
Funny thing is, it’s really a great record. The songs hold true to the originals without scaring my children into hellish nightmares about bats eating their brains. The version of “Fade To Black” is downright wonderful. I catch myself listening to it before I go to bed from time to time. I think I like the interpretation of “Wherever I May Roam” on here more than the one on the Black Album. Michael Armstrong, the composer of this album, is a Metallica fan with the rare ability to write beautiful children’s music.
The record contains mostly Metallica hits, although Anesthesia (Pulling Teeth) makes an appearance. It’s not a great take on the tune, but it will be nice car music for our first trip to the dentist. As a whole, however, the song selection is a bit lacking. I was really hoping to have the chance to indoctrinate my children to the wonders of “Trapped Under Ice”, but alas, that may never happen. He did have the good sense to not put any Saint Anger songs on. The last thing I need in my life is having to tell my son or daughter “Stop humming Invisible Kid or you are going to your room!!!!!”
The full Rockabye Baby! catalog looks like it might be worth checking out. I bet the Pink Floyd one sounds great even though the Syd Barrett years are completely ignored. There are a few records in the catalog that would be good to have around if you run out of syrup of ipecac and your child swallows a quart of Drano. Nothing would induce vomiting faster than having to hear the lullaby sounds of Coldplay or U2. On their website, they actually have a place where you can request what band they will cover next. I’ve spent the better portion of the morning recommending they do an Emperor cover album. After about 500 times I stopped, but I plan on getting back to it later today. I Am The Black Wizards as a lullaby…think about it! If you have a moment, please drop by their site and submit as many votes as you can.
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