Louie Gohmert has taken on a lot of brutal adversaries in his time on Capitol Hill. His bravery in the face of so-called “terror babies” and “radical Islamists who are trained to act Hispanic” have made him a pillar of the American Right. Now, he’s turning his energies to fight against a problem that he believes is “the greatest threat to the health and safety of America’s youth”. That problem, according to Gohmert, is the mosh pit.
In a press conference on Monday, Gohmert spoke in depth about “the recent phenomena referred to as ‘pitting’ by young people”. Gohmert claimed that thousands of young people are injured or killed everyday in this “circle of ungodliness”.
He went on to discuss stories he had heard of mosh pits breaking out not just at heavy metal concerts, but also in daycare centers and hospital emergency rooms. He told the story of an unnamed 87-year-old woman who was crushed to death when a mosh pit broke at a Perkins restaurant on Seniors Pay What They Weigh Night last month in White Bear Lake, Minnesota. “What happens to the innocent when they are caught in a mosh? Who speaks for them!” Gohmert thundered to reporters.
In a Fox News interview yesterday, Gohmert took his anti-moshing rhetoric a step further. “If you know your Bible, you would know that the Book of Numbers 16:30 clearly states ‘they that go down quickly into the pit; shall understand that they have provoked the Lord.’ Men and women who enter mosh pits are sinful and are, in fact, provoking God’s wrath. Pitting violates God’s law.”
Gohmert concluded the interview by claiming that, while most people think that heavy metal fans created the mosh pit, it is actually based on Sufi dervish dancing. “People may not realize this, but wild, dangerous Sufi dancing is part of the Muslim tradition. The same tradition that has declared war on the West and its Christian values. While metal fans think they are simply pitting to noisy, violent music, they are, in fact, praising a God worshipped by people who want to destroy us.”
While Gohmert believes that passing anti-pit laws is not the solution to this national crisis, he does see a viable alternative. “If you want to stop pits from breaking out, the quickest, most effective solution is the widespread distribution of M4 assault rifles to all red-blooded, patriotic Americans. If every good, God-loving man, woman and child carried one at all times, we would be safe from these heavy metal hooligans.”
A few weeks back, I sent an email to A Band of Orcs, a death metal band of beasts who traveled to Earth from another realm. I was hoping to get an exclusive interview, but when I received no reply, I went about my life and forgot about it. Suddenly, on Saturday morning at 5 AM, I was awakened by a terrible howling noise followed by a frightening crash.
Gogog Bloodthroat, the singer from A Band Of Orcs, had broken down my front door and was climbing my stairs with a giant knife between his teeth. I tried desperately to run away, but Gogog grabbed me and pinned me against the wall. He was raving about a magic album they were recording that was coming out in June or July that was going to destroy all human eardrums. According to Gogog, the cover art was going to be done by a brilliant slave named Chuck Lukacs. I was able to ask him some questions before I blacked out from the beating I received.
Gogog: I was out in the stalls abusing the warhorses abusing calling them humans when you sent email. If you want to abuse something in your life or your realm, I found calling them human seals the deal. They are ready to throw some metal your way. Yes. YESSSSSS!!!!!
Tyranny: So let me ask you, I’ve never been an Orc before and I’m really curious…. What is a typical day in the life of an Orc like?
Gogog: Gogog never wake up too early. He make grunts do most work in mornings. But when Gogog wake up he smell, take deep breath, smell death, destruction and fire. That is Gogog’s breakfast. Wake up in morning, go out, abuse warhorses. Then, we go out, dominate, play heavy metal for all the pathetic humans that are out there in your realm. They are sooooooo….pathetic…..I love that word. Patheeeetic. I use that word from the Waterdog….he tell me “pathetic”. He tell me “your thought patterns are pathetic”. I love it! Everything pathetic!
Tyranny: You have an excellent vocabulary for a flesh-eating beast….
Gogog: Pathetic!!! Ahmmmmmmmmm….(incoherent growling)
Tyranny: If they had a monster SAT that could end up on it. Great word.
Gogog: It helps having a Shaman who teaches you vocabulary so you can speak to the stinky flesh piles such as yourself.
Tyranny: Well, thank you!
Gogog: It is a complement!!!! (more incoherent growling followed by horrifying laughter)
Tyranny: What possesses an Orc to start playing music? It doesn’t seem like a natural thing for you to do. Why did you start a heavy metal band?
Gogog: Well………SLAYER!!!!! REIGN IN BLOOD!!!!! We hear as Orcs, need to know, what is this magic? We hear this we feel like destroying. Jed! The one human that lives. That is all I must say.
Gogog: He teach us this magic you call metal. Grrrrrrrrrrrrr. We must play constantly. Metal hurt. Metal don’t hurt, humans hurt. You scratch our back, we destroy yours.
Tyranny: Is it hard to play instruments with Orcfingers?
Gogog: Not at all. Orcs play everything with their fingers. You should hear the noise when we pick our ears. We have very thick ear hair to keep elves and berries out of our ears. Nobody hears the music that comes out of our ears when we pick them. Just Orc. It’s almost as beautiful as heavy metal! Everyday we learn more. We learn more. Hail Gzoroth!
(My 3 year-old daughter walked into the room at this point totally oblivious to the giant Orc holding me by the throat against the wall.)
My daughter: (excitedly) Daddy, my rash is better.
Tyranny: That’s great, sweetie. I’m talking to an Orc right now. Why don’t you go downstairs?
Gogog: Does the little princess want to ask a question?
Tyranny: No…No….She’s fine. (Thankfully, she left at this point and didn’t become Orcfood) Now, I keep hearing you talk about The Maelstrom. What is…(overly dramatic pause)….The Maelstrom?
Gogog: Maelstrom! Vortex of a lot of power magic. Destruction. Destroys everything around it. Bottom line…it brings the tribe.
Tyranny: I heard a story from your manager, Mr. Grimp….
Gogog: (laughing hysterically) YEEEEEEEEES! Mr. Grimp!!!! YEEEEESSSSSS! Know your place! YEEEEESSSSSSS!!!
Tyranny: How did you arrive on earth?
Gogog: That’s where humans get confused. We are not aliens. We not come from a different planet, we came from different realm. We come through Vortex, Maelstrom, that is the difference. We are not Martians! HeheahaaaaaaaaHeahahhahahahahahhahahahhaha………Martians! That is really funny. We come from a different REALM! REALM!! REALM!!!!!!
Tyranny: You came here through the Vortex???
Gogog: Kids playing Dungeons and Dragons, of course. Rolling dice. Gruesom Grimp is big jokester. He bring us through. (unintelligible shouting) He bring us through Vortex. Bring Orcs to Santa Cruz, California. Not knowing what’s going on. We destroyed everybody right there. Then, we hear magic in the tower above. We run upstairs and we hear SLAYER….REIGN IN BLOOD!!! Most amazing magic. Vortex. Maelstrom. I can’t say more.
Tyranny: That’s a beautiful story….
Gogog: People travel to Santa Cruz mountains now not only to find Bigfoot, now to find Orc. People everywhere we see! When Orc Tower appear, Bigfoot scared! We see Groongrich all the time. Humans say “See the Groongrich!” We the Groongrich!
Gogog: Groongrich!!!! GROONGRICH!!!! It’s something big in distance that oogs. You know your life is in danger, but yet you not know what it is. GROONGRICH!!!!
Tyranny: Groongridge??? Groongrich???
Gogog: (becoming hostile) GROOOOOOOOOOOOOOONGRICH!!!!!!!!! Must I spell?!?!?
Tyranny: I got it! As you may know, There is a lot of anti-Orc propaganda out there. What could you say to help convince the readers that Orcs are actually charming, lovable and benevolent creatures?
Gogog: Anti-Orc Propaganda!!!!!!!!
Tyranny: Yeah, people say they eat human flesh, they smell, they don’t clean up after themselves and are pretty anti-social.
Gogog: Yes….yes….all of the above. Humans are very good at destroying what they don’t understand. That’s why Orc still here. Humans understand Orc. We smelly, we mean, we don’t have love for anything on the planet. That’s us!
Tyranny: Let’s talk about your eating of human flesh. Now, you do eat human flesh, correct?
Gogog: NO!!!!! Gogog wear human flesh. Human taste like….meh…..it stink. Almost like Orc, but worse. We have human over. Eat brain. Leave drums for Oog. Oog make cymbals out of all kinds of human stuff. Then, we take the flesh and we wear it, we put it on. We wear it at war. I only wear the ugliest humans. The fur you see on Gogog is not animal fur, but hairy human.
Tyranny: You are kind to animals???
Gogog: NO!!!!! Not at all! We hope they take over your realm and destroy you guys. That’s why we call them all human. Like taking a Groongrich, sticking it with stink and calling it dumb and human. They take over EARTH!!! EARTH!!!! EARTH!! Hahahahahahahhahahahaaaaaa….
Tyranny: What have been some of your most successful human hunting strategies?
Gogog: To take a human down!?!?!? We play metal. You not see this on your Youtube, your Twitterface. You see human scum. We take the camera, post it on Youtube, DRUMS, CYMBALS, so on and so on.
Tyranny: You have some pretty imposing tusks. Are there Orc dentists who help you maintain proper dental hygiene? How often do Orcs need to brush and floss?
Gogog: Hairy humans! We bite into hairy humans with tusks, clean tusks, we ready to go. We show everything, we no hide. You see everything. Humans in your realm hide everything. We show you everything. Therefore, you think we lie. We no lie, we tell you the truth.
Tyranny: That was actually pretty deep.
Gogog: YES! You struggle with your words, Gogog speak truth now. Pick up jaw off ground.
Tyranny: A lot of my readers are interested to know what they can do to be spared when the Orcpocalypse comes. What’s your advice for them?
Gogog: Hail Gzoroth!!!! Buy our merch. Buy tee-shirt. Make armor out of it.
Tyranny: So, if they buy your merch or the new album that your working on, will they be spared.
Gogog: Most definitely. You buy CD, new album, tee-shirt, you spared. We see bumper sticker on car. Leave spared! We see! We travel in cage on back of tour bus. We see through holes for air. We see bumper sticker say “Band of Orcs”. They are the chosen ones, because they choose. You see! You choose, you get! Nothing for free. Well, sometimes. Gronk! Throw stuff out in crowd for free. We argue, but Gronk! always right. We think he magic. Like what you humans call Jedi Mind Trick.
At that point, the pain of being hit repeatedly in the skull with an elephant femur became too much to bear and I passed out. I awoke in a bed at Grady Hospital in downtown Atlanta a day later with multiple concussions and a missing ear. Hopefully, Gogog will be pleased with this interview and will leave me alone. Hail Gzoroth!
In a surprising study done by Johns Hopkins University, a direct connection has been found between being obsessed with the heavy metal band Slayer and consumption of certain classes of food. Slayer Obsession, known in medical parlance as Human Epiglottal Lymphogranuloma Lychosis or HELL, has been known to effect two in every three Slayer fans at least one time in their lives. In more serious cases of Slayer Obsession, a diet rich in certain classes of carbohydrates and proteins has been linked to symptoms as serious as the need to carve the band’s name into a person’s arm, the desire to write “SLAYER” on random Facebook message threads or even the overwhelming need to write the lyrics to “Dead Skin Mask” and other Slayer songs on inappropriate places such as church pews or children’s foreheads.
One food, unsurprisingly, that can cause Slayer addiction is barley, commonly found in beer. As many as 4 in 10 beer drinkers find themselves with mild to serious cases of HELL.
What is shocking are the other types of food that can lead to this disorder. The researchers found that people who consume more than 12 ounces of butter per day were found to frequently listen to the album “Seasons in the Abyss” for between 6 and 8 hours in an evening. Consumption of cucumbers or cottage cheese can lead to the desire to lock oneself in a room and listen to nothing but “South of Heaven” for entire weekends at a time.
The real stunner was that pickle juice is a major contributor to the disorder. Apparently pryotophan, an amino acid found in pickle juice will, in almost all cases, lead to immediate bouts of HELL and a nearly mindless sense of euphoria. Many fans at fans Slayer shows, who have recently been seen consuming entire containers of the water in pickle jars, have found themselves running wildly around in circles and running into one an other in a symptom that doctors refer to as “moshing”. Some Slayer fans have even taken to smoking and free basing pickles before shows in order to get the desired effect.
While doctors for years have believed that only the love of Jesus Christ or a good woman could help HELL sufferers, the Johns Hopkins research team believes that eating certain things can help cure the disorder. One such food is potting soil. According to their study, eating 9 ounces of mineral rich potting soil per day can lead a sharp decrease in the need to listen to Slayer. They also recommend eating at least 3 servings of donkey spleen per week.
For sufferers of this disorder, the future may seem bleak. They may feel powerless over their obsessions and symptoms. However, a diet rich in dirt and donkey parts can ensure that, in fact, HELL does not await.
In a story that may set the entire metal world on its ear, several sources have speculated that Pantera may reunite to play a series of shows in 2013. Pantera, whose seminal Vulgar Display of Power record turned 20 this year, have been broken up since 2003. The band was a major force in heavy metal, topping the billboard album charts in 1994 with their release Far Beyond Driven. A Pantera reunion would, no doubt, be the concert event of 2013, if not of this decade.
The rumors began during a conversation last week between my friend Matt and I. We were discussing the merits of “The Great Southern Trendkill” and I mentioned, “Wouldn’t it be great if they got back together!?!?!”
Matt replied, “Yeah! I’d travel anywhere in the country to see them, but Vinny and Phil are on really bad terms since Dime died. No chance.”
I looked at Matt and said, “But there would a lot of money on the table. A whole lot of money. My cousin Johnny ate a bag of thumbtacks once for 20 dollars. He ended up having to have surgery and now he can’t drink milk or ginger ale. He was never right afterwards. Sometimes, he acts like he’s a pirate and digs enormous holes in his backyard looking for treasure. He even makes fake treasure maps and ‘finds’ them in strange places that he hid them hours earlier. The point is, this Pantera reunion can happen if someone, like maybe the Koch Brothers or George Soros or somebody big puts about 100 million in front of them. That sort of cash moves mountains.”
Paulie Reznik, the guy we hired to fix the hole in our roof from last week’s storm, confirmed that a Pantera reunion could happen. “It could happen, man. For sure,” said Paulie, a diehard Pantera fan and owner of nearly 300 heavy metal bobblehead dolls, in a recent interview with Tyranny of Tradition.
However, my wife adamantly denied the possibility of a Pantera tour. She claimed that the rumors are baseless, that I had skipped a dosage of my medication again and that I was ‘allegedly’ pretending that things that I make up are really happening. “Honey, why don’t you go lay down for a while? You’re doing that thing where you are confusing fantasy and reality. Remember last month you thought Picasso had come back from the grave and told you to spray paint the cat orange and speak only in Aramaic? That wasn’t true either. You just need some rest.”
Pantera, for their part, have yet to comment on the rumors. Often, when a person or group refuses to confirm or deny a story it is because there is some truth to it. Where there is smoke there is fire, or so the saying goes. If Pantera continues to refuse to comment on the rumors that I am making up, you can pretty much bet your life savings that they will be back on the stage in 2013. Sometimes silence speaks volumes.
Last Friday, we got a chance to catch up with Satan over at the Starbucks in Alpharetta, Georgia. The Dark Prince and I sat down over Frappuccinos and discussed his life and career. He was remarkably candid with me about the challenges that he has faced as the most powerful force of evil in the known universe. We also discussed the current state of heavy metal. Here are some highlights from our interview….
Tyranny: So, Satan, what are some of your proudest achievements?
Satan: Well, I’m particularly proud of greed. Watching people gets so worked up over the stories they tell themselves about lifeless material is really a joy to watch. I’m also very partial to vanity. It’s the best gateway drug ever invented. If you can get people to believe that there is something remarkable about themselves that they have and others don’t you can get them to do just about anything to protect it. Who needs to fill a church with demons and ghouls when you can simply fill one of the ministers with an over abundance of self-interest? You give me twenty seconds and a mirror and I can do pure magic.
Tyranny: As the devil, you face many challenges. Tell me about a few of them.
Satan: Well, human beings have a remarkable capacity for love. They are often willing to give of themselves when they are clear they will get nothing in return. You see it all the time if you know what you are looking for. You have no idea how frustrating this is for me. Sure, I’ve managed to convince some people that all acts are essentially selfish. I’ve planted the idea of human nature in people so they think they can never be any better than those who came before them. But, some people simply choose to ignore this and try to turn the world into a place of empathy and compassion. Those people make my job a nightmare.
Tyranny: What do you think about the current state of heavy metal?
Satan: Honestly, I’m just tired of people writing songs about me. Stop it already! Please! I mean, when Venom or Bathory were doing it, it was kinda cool. I was flattered. After 30 years and literally thousands of songs about my powers, I’m just tired of it. Slayer fans are the worst. I can’t even go to their concerts anymore because people just scream my name the whole time. You try enjoying the drum solo in Angel of Death with a bunch of bearded lunatics screaming your name over and over. It’s annoying.
Tyranny: Do you think this stems from a general lack of creativity in metal?
Satan: There is plenty of creativity in metal; it’s just that the audience often prefers the comfort of what they already know. Some of the best experiments out there fall on deaf ears. I try to discourage creativity because it can lead to joy and freedom in the minds of humans. It’s one of the things I’ve never been able to beat out of people. To fight it, I have had to come up with some very unique solutions. Case in point, every once in a while I plant a bad creative idea in order to discourage bands from thinking outside of the box. To show them that their ideas could lead them to being humiliated. Then, I encourage legions of angry and sad people to savage them on message boards in order to drive the point home.
Tyranny: Can you give me an example?
Satan: Sure. The Metallica/Lou Reed thing was my idea. That should set creativity further back then The McCarthy Hearings.
Tyranny: If you could leave the reader with one quick idea, what would it be?
Satan: Vote Gingrich!!!!!
Tyranny: Thanks for your time. By the way, thanks for your help promoting the Santorum article!
Satan: No problem! And thank you for your soul.
In the hopes of stemming the growing tide of voters supporting King Diamond for President, Republican frontrunner Rick Perry lashed out at The King’s campaign which he claimed is “well outside of the mainstream in American politics.” In a speech given by Perry at the home of noted abortion clinic bomber Jack Marcus, Perry went on a full scale five minute offensive against Diamond in an attempt to show that he does not represent the values of today’s Republican Party. “Where are the irresponsible proposals for tax cuts for the wealthy? Where are the preposterous accusations of President Obama’s link to The Communist Party? Where are the crazed threats of violence against Third World Countries? Do you realize King Diamond has been on the campaign trail for less than three weeks and he has yet to accuse an Islamic charity group with having ties to Al-Qaeda? I had been in the race less than a week when I threatened to beat up the Head of The Federal Reserve Board! King Diamond is clearly too moderate for the Republican Party and definitely too moderate for America,” shouted a wild-eyed Perry in front of 200 cheering, drooling Perry for President staffers.
Perry is not the only candidate who has attacked King Diamond in recent days. Former Massachusetts Governor Mitt Romney hammered The King for “sounding like a girl when he sings”. Romney went on to accuse King Diamond of plagiarizing the entire Abigail album, which Romney claims he himself wrote in his Geometry notebook while a high school student in the 1960s. Romney even went so far as to question The King’s metal credentials. “I’m much more of a metalhead than King Diamond,” exclaimed Romney in front of the only guy who came to see his speech last night in Des Moines, “I have every Venom album on vinyl, while King Diamond only has them all on CD. I ask you…Who is more metal? Me or The So-Called King.”
Michelle Bachmann chimed in yesterday claiming “King Diamond is God’s punishment on America for the sin of collecting taxes.” Ron Paul accused The King of “actually being a secret agent of The Lizard People and The Cult of The Illuminati.” Some guy named Jon Huntsman who claimed to be a Republican Presidential candidate also said some nasty stuff about King Diamond, but no one in the press bothered to write it down or record it.
Much of this negative campaigning reflects a belief that the Republicans have a chance to win the election in November if they can just turn the American public into a frightened mass of well-armed lunatics. This strategy has worked well so far against President Barack Obama. In a recent CNN/Gallup Poll, 65 percent of Americans claimed they would “vote for a seal who knew how to balance a ball on its nose before they’d reelect Obama”. In a Rasmussen Poll taken last week, it was revealed that 82 percent of Republicans feared that if they voted for Obama a plague would immediately descend upon the land and rabid dogs would eat their children. However, in both polls however, Obama still leads Perry by around 4 percent.
King Diamond has remained silent so far about the attacks although he has mentioned to several sources inside his campaign that “he looks forward to playing beach volleyball with Michelle Bachmann’s head”. He also joked with a reporter about Rick Perry’s intense persona saying “everybody’s a tough guy when they have Secret Service protection. He wouldn’t last 5 seconds in The Pit. He couldn’t beat up my grandmother.” The King has a tough week of campaigning ahead, including a major, make-or-break policy speech in front of the influential “Satanists For Christ” National Convention in Davenport this Friday. His ability to attract evangelical voters is seen as the key to him winning the all-important Iowa caucus in January.
The Tyranny of Tradition is proud to announce that this year’s prestigious award for The Purest Man in All of Metal was presented this morning to BlaK Dan Krutzmeyer of Mechanicsburg, Pennsylvania. BlaK Dan won the award in 2010-11 for his undying commitment to the cause of real, black, pure, true heavy metal. We had a chance to catch up with him after this morning’s ceremony at The Radisson Hotel in Kenosha, Wisconsin.
Tyranny: BlaK Dan, we are really excited to catch up with you on such an important day. How are you feeling?
BlaK Dan: Bleak, man. Bleak. Before we go any further, I need to straighten something out with you. My name is no longer BlaK Dan. Two months ago I had it legally changed to XxxxZyr. XxxxZyr was Odin’s nephew’s horse. The original name of the horse had some vowels in it, but I removed them because vowels are feminine and, thus, impure.
Tyranny: Vowels are feminine and impure?
XxxxZyr: Yes, vowels imply weakness and girlishness. Allowing any form of femininity to enter into my soul would make me less pure. I refuse to use vowels. It takes away from my inner purity.
Tyranny: So, do you have a girlfriend?
XxxxZyr: No, I refuse to weaken myself by communicating in any way with women. I rarely will talk to men either. When I do, I try to communicate in a long dead language like Aramaic. That way, our conversation will be more pure. I have agreed to use an impure language like English for this interview as part of the terms of receiving my award, but I plan on never using this contaminated language again.
Tyranny: Okay, moving right along. XxxxZyr, I’ve heard you are in a metal band. What sort of music do you play?
XxxxZyr: My band is a one-man project. We are called grrrvkw, in honor of the sound humans make when yawning, one of the few truly pure things a person can do. To play my music, I go out into the deepest part of the forest with my guitar. I find a cool, quiet spot as far from civilization as possible, where I can capture my inner essence and then I roll around in leaves for an hour. When I emerge from the leaves, I play one dark note and hold it for three hours. I do this four times a day. I will not defile my music by playing it in front of an audience or recording it. I’ve got to keep it pure, man.
Tyranny: What sort of music do you enjoy listening to?
XxxxZyr: Okay, first of all, I do not enjoy anything. Enjoyment is a weakened state. It allows one to become out of touch with their inner-purity. I enjoy nothing.
Second of all, I will only listen to the purest forms of metal. Nothing impure will enter my ears. I used to listen to bands like Iron Maiden, but I realized that by recording their music, they sold out. The only pure thing they did was a recording Steve Harris’ mother accidently made of him crying when he was two days old. I own a copy of it on vinyl and listen to it from time to time. That was before they started selling out and playing music for “people”. Everyone who has ever recorded anything or played anything in front of other humans or even thought for one second about the effects of their music on others is a sell-out and I have no time for them.
Tyranny: What are your goals and plans now that you have been declared the most pure man in all of metal?
XxxxZyr: Well, first of all, I want to make it clear that this award doesn’t matter to me. I don’t need to be told I’m pure by anyone else. You are speaking to a man who spent a lifetime looking into the darkest and purest of internal voids. I need nothing from you. As a matter of fact, your very presence diminishes me.
In terms of goals, I am looking for a job where my understanding of purity will be an asset. I long to one day become a metal message board administrator. I could spend the next 60 years of my life making sure that threads are not polluted by comments that go off of the exact theme that the person who began the thread meant. All sarcasm, humor and other weakening agents will be eliminated under my reign. This sort of defilement of message boards should be punishable by death.
Tyranny: Congrats on the award, XxxxZyr, and good luck.
XxxxZyr: Okay, again, you are missing the point. I feel nothing but hatred in its purest form in this moment. As the gods intended it. I do not accept your praise, because by doing so I am lessening myself. I plan on tossing this award into a blazing fire when I return to my cave. I have polluted myself by being near others. This ritual is shameful and I hope to never experience anything like it again.
Remove all tight fitting clothing. Find a cool and comfortable place to sit down where you will not be disturbed. Relax. Try to block out all thoughts that are running through your mind. Breathe. Make yourself an entirely empty vessel, like a glass that has not been filled. Relax. Breathe. I am going to count backwards from 10 and when I reach 1 you will begin to hear my review of the new Trivium album.
I will now transmit my review directly into your mind…..
The new In Solitude album “The World. The Flesh. The Devil.” is simply remarkable. Since I first heard it, I have been on nearly a non-stop In Solitude binge. I’ve listened to it from beginning to end somewhere in the neighborhood of five times a day. Whether I’m vacuuming, making dinner, or putting all of my issues of Boys’ Life magazine in alphabetical order, the album has been my constant companion. I had a plan to review it, but I feel like I have lost all degree of journalistic objectivity. The only way to truly get a fair assessment of this album is to turn it over to a stranger and see what they think.
This was not a simple task. I live in the American South and, for the most part, strangers are to be feared. I spent all day Thursday walking around the North Dekalb Mall in Atlanta asking people to sit with me for an hour listen to the record and answer some questions but was refused over and over again. I even had a woman threaten to get her husband and have him “give me a beating”. Six hours of rejection and nothing to show for it. I needed a new plan.
Friday, I went to the park near the local Senior Center. I immediately descended on a seemingly good natured woman sitting on a park bench who looked like she needed company and, more importantly, seemed like she’d have difficulty getting away quickly. I spent 10 minutes talking to her about her life and her allergy to penicillin. Her name was Ida Mae Thrasher. It was too perfect! This had to be the one! I made the offer, but this time I had figured out how to seal the deal. I offered her a 50-dollar gift card to the local Rite Aid. All she had to do was listen to the album and answer my questions. She tentatively agreed to do it and I quickly slapped a pair of headphones on her.
Our conversation after listening to the album went like this:
Keith: Well…what did you think?
Ida Mae: It was…..ummmmmmmm…..it was good.
Keith: Good??? Okay. Can you be more specific?
Ida Mae: It was very good.
Keith: Ida, can you please give me something with a little more detail? I’m trying to write an article here.
Ida Mae: Well, I liked the first song.
Keith: If you want the gift card, you are going to have to give me something more to work with.
Ida Mae: Well, it was kind of….well….loud.
Keith: Do you mean the volume? I could have turned it down.
Ida Mae: No, it was just….you know….loud.
Keith: (sounding somewhat offended) Listen Ida, loud is a term that applies to volume. Loud is not a valid description. It tells me nothing. Tell me something about the amazing guitar solos, tell me something about the raw production style, tell me that you like the interplay between the drummer and bassist, tell me you appreciate that they have taken early 80s sounding British metal and put a fresh and unique spin on it. What the heck does “it was loud” tell me!?!?!?!
Ida Mae: (appearing nervous)It was fine.
Ida Mae: Yes.
Keith: WHICH IS IT?!?!?
Ida Mae: Both.
Keith: You are avoiding the question! I’m seriously starting to question your commitment to heavy metal!!!!!
Ida Mae: You said I’d get a gift card if I listened to the album and answered your questions. Well, I did both. Please give me my Rite Aid gift card and just leave me alone.
Keith: There is no gift card! Not for you. Not with answers like that. You just totally wasted my time.
Ida Mae: HELP!!! Someone get this maniac away from me!!!!!!!!! HELP!!!!!!!!!!
I had a lot of time to reflect on things while I was waiting for my wife to arrange bail. This experience taught me a lot. Some people just aren’t in a position to appreciate great music. I’m just going to have to live with the fact that the Ida Maes of the world will have to live their lives shrouded in a veil of musical ignorance. That doesn’t mean you have to. Buy as many copies as you can of “The World, The Flesh, The Devil”. Quit your job and do nothing but listen to it. Make your kids memorize the lyrics and if they don’t, refuse to let them watch television and send them to their rooms without dinner. It is really that good.
Check out Serpents Are Rising from “The World. The Flesh. The Devil.” here. The song is 160 percent amazing!
I started off trying to review Graveyard’s new album Hisingen Blues. Things were going really well. I had a neat little intro where I talked about their 70’s retro sound and compared them to a few bands. There was a cool section where I discussed the driving intensity of their sound and compared them to a freight train. It was going really well. All that is gone now. All that is left is chaos, despair and panic. I’m sitting in my car in the parking lot of a Burger King fast food. It’s 4:47 in the morning. How did I get here?
I was writing the review at the kitchen table. My wife and kids were playing in the other room. In the distance, I heard the vaguely menacing sounds of Dora The Explorer. My ears were much more attuned to magniloquent sounds of the song Hisingen Blues by Graveyard. I’d listened to the album a few times, but kept coming back to the title track. “WHERE IS THE FUTURE?!?!?!?!”
I was grooving to the song. I closed my eyes. The next thing I knew my wife was screaming. “WHAT ARE YOU!?!!?!??!?!? GET OUT OF HERE!!?!?!?!”
I tried to say “Honey, it’s just me. Why are you screaming?” But it came out “Kjqgjgnqrwlkgnjwqrngljnwrjlgnlg?”. I sounded like the creature in the Predator movies when it tried to talk. What was happening?
My wife picked up a broom and started hitting me. “Stop it!” (“Njndgjlqwrnlgkn!”) The sounds that came out of me only made her more frightened. I ran upstairs. Suddenly, I started thinking about our cat. I have to eat the cat. I have to eat the cat. I sprinted around the bedroom looking for the cat. I thought of how good the cat would taste. I have to eat the cat. “WHERE IS THE FUTURE!?” echoed in my minds ear. I need to eat the cat. It would be so delicious. I have to eat the cat. I looked under the bed, I looked in the shower. I looked in the closet on my wife’s red sweater where it likes to sleep. All at once it occurred to me that we don’t have a cat.
I looked into the mirror. What looked back at me was horrifying. Green neck, green skin, pointy nose, scales. I was…..a lizard!!!!!!! Dear God….A LIZARD!!!!!! I ran downstairs to try to explain it to my wife. She had both of the kids in her arms and she was screaming into her cell phone. “SDGASFHAFSHERJJET!” I pleaded.
“Get away you…..BEAST! What have you done with my husband????”
My children’s eyes were filled with confusion. I was not daddy anymore. I was some “thing” that they could not possibly understand. Some “thing” they conjured up in a nightmare, but not daddy. “WHERE IS THE FUTURE!?!!?!!” My wife’s eyes gleamed with hate and fear. I was a stranger to them.
I grabbed my keys and ran out of the front door towards my car. Our neighbor was blissfully jogging up the street with her headphones on. At first, she did not notice me. All at once her face grew pale. She turned and sprinted away from me. I leaped in my car. Could I even drive? Could I get the key in the ignition? My lizard fingers clumsily pushed the key in and I was off to somewhere. But where?
Most of the last nine hours has been about staying alive. I have cat scratch marks all over me that I cannot explain. I feel the empty exhaustion of a sleepless night. I don’t remember much of what has happened, but I am here. Soon, the sun will rise. I have to stay safe. There is no room for my kind on the street. Not among the animals. Not in the daylight.
And what of my condition? How did I end up here? Something in the song brought me to this place. I have become the poetry of doom and horror. Something in the song turned me into this creature. Something inside of me, both wretched and righteous, has escaped and become my form. “WHERE IS THE FUTURE?!?!?!” I am no longer what you would call human. I wear alienation as my skin. As the moments recede backwards into the night my fate stands before me. I am lost.
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