Posts Tagged Music
Dissecting CARCASS’ “Heartwork” – First Incision…Buried Dreams
Posted by Keith Spillett in Notes on Carcass Heartwork, Pointyheaded Highbrow Stuff, The Poetry of Death on May 13, 2011
Heartwork, the 1993 release by Carcass, is easily one of the most compelling metal albums ever recorded. First and foremost, it is an explosion of monstorous guitar riffs, frenetic drumming and raging energy. The music is captivating and overwhelming. Heartwork is a remarkably powerful lyrical album that deals intelligently with issues like globalization, dehumanization and existential dread. The music has been widely praised by many music journalists. The lyrics, however, have been given scant attention. Jeff Walker, the band’s singer, bass player and chief lyricist, envisions a world that is entirely devoid of human feeling or empathy. Walker’s adept use of language, particularly double entendre, lays bare the man’s inhumanity in all of its baseness. His world is an empty one, filled only with sorrow, guilt and deep-seated hatred.
The album behaves like a book, each song a chapter examining a set of widely held beliefs and contrasting them with his vision of a world gone completely insane. Over the next few months, I will attempt to analyze the themes and ideas song by song in an attempt to convey the inventiveness of Walker’s lyrics as well as the perspicacity of his message.
Buried Dreams
Welcome, to a world of hate
A life of buried dreams
Smothered, by the soils of fate
Welcome, to a world of pain
Bitterness your only wealth
The sand of time kicked in your face
Rubbed in your face
When aspirations are squashed
When life’s chances are lost
When all hope is gone
When expectations are quashed
When self-esteem is lost
When ambition is mourned
…All you need is hate
In futility, for self-preservation
We all need someone
Someone to hate
Buried Dreams is a nightmare vision of a world completely unconnected to its humanity. It serves as an overview of the themes that are addressed in each song and is a great starting point because it contains the most unambiguous lines on the record. In Walker’s “world of hate”, humans begin their journey in life filled with hope only to see that hope slowly eroded by the fixed nature of reality. This reality is the death and pain experienced by all humanoid beings. It is immovable, unchangeable and constant. Humans search blindly in the dark for some reason, some deeper meaning that will connect the dots and make the pain they experience intelligible. We fill ourselves with illusions in order to soften the blow of this horrible truth. As the truth becomes more real, we grasp harder at the illusion but ones commitment to an illusion will never make that deception a reality. We slowly come to terms with the understanding that there is no connection, there is no one tending the fire and the center simply does not hold. Once this veneer of meaning has been stripped away there is nothing left to hold onto but pure visceral hatred.
By experiencing hatred for something, we are given the ability to overcome our basic alienation from ourselves all the while connecting to the other beings around us. Love would be another way to connect, but the drawback of love is that it is fleeting. Its initial joy is snuffed out by the understanding that our basic existential problem, death, will cause love to one day give way to sorrow and despair. If you connect with hatred you never have to feel loss because the eventual vanquishing of your foe will be greeted with a feeling of joy and accomplishment. No one mourns the death of their enemy.
On the surface, the lyrics could be read as a simplistic explanation of the rise of fascism in Europe in the 30s and 40s. A society like Germany, which was drowning in debt and filled with impoverished humans recovering from the insanity of years of mindless trench warfare, was ready for the message of hate that Hitler brought. I believe the song is meant to have much more of a timeless message with broader overtones about the human condition. The line that universalizes this song is “in futility, for self-preservation, we all need someone…someone to hate.” This is a Hobbesian view of a world of beings so frightened of death that they are willing to do anything to avoid it, even if they know that their actions are eventually pointless. We are willing to create a Leviathan that may kill us for our disobedience in order to be safe. The wall each of us run into is death and we are willing to embrace any idea that allows us to fully avoid thinking about our eventual consequence. We are willing to embrace ideas that are self-destructive in order to escape the fear of death. If this isn’t true, then how do you explain war? This horrible irony of our basic condition is that we long to avoid death, but we do so in a way that often hastens its coming.
And so our dreams are buried as we are carried kicking and screaming to our own certain demise. We mask our fears with delusions of enemies all around us. We think that we can stop the inevitable if we bomb that thing or execute this thing but with our last dying breath we are reminded of the futility of all of it. Even hate cannot save us. The final, horrible irony of our Buried Dreams is that we will eventually be buried next to them.
(I am pretty darned excited to announce that this series will also be running at MindOverMetal.org, one of my favorite metal sites. Special thanks to my homeboy Metal Matt Longo who not only agreed to run the thing, but even gave me a fantastic title for the series and some killer editing ideas. Anyway those dudes speak truth and wisdom over there, check’em out)
Rock The Cradle of Filth
Posted by Keith Spillett in The Poetry of Death on May 8, 2011
Scream For Me Kindercare!!!!!
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.
Dumb Metal Rumors and The People Who Love Them
Posted by Keith Spillett in Articles I Probably Shouldn't Have Bothered Writing on April 17, 2011
Metalheads, as a lot, tend to be some the most cynical people on the planet, but we are often willing to believe some amazingly suspect information. Get a roomful of bangers together and most of them will agree that the government, in league with a group of rancorous aliens who crashed in New Mexico, are conspiring to enslave the human race and force us to listen to Black Eyed Peas records until our ears bleed. What can be said of a group that seems to have a universal distrust Christianity but believe strongly in the existence of Satan? We tend to be suspicious of any sort of authority structure, but have complete faith in strangers who happen to arrange a series of musical notes in a way that makes us want to run into each other screaming “KILL!!!!”. In short, we are a group that is susceptible to getting caught up in some bizarre rumors.
Over the years there have been a some I particularly enjoyed. Here are a few of them…
Paging Dr. Goregrind
The story goes something like this…A bunch of frustrated med students dropped out of college moments away from becoming doctors. They took their wealth of medical training and used it to write a series of revolting metal albums in the late 80s and early 90s. These albums, which featured songs with catchy titles like “Swarming Vulgar Mass of Infected Virulency” and “Cadaveric Incubator of Endoparasites”, must have been penned by people with an acute understanding of human anatomy, the type of understanding that could only be gained by hours of study at a medical college. It’s a great story and it actually makes some sense but it is completely untrue. Carcass are, in fact, brilliant musicians with highly overdeveloped vocabularies and no medical training whatsoever. This didn’t stop a friend of mine, years back, from sending a letter to the band offering to allow them to remove his spleen onstage.
Malevolent Obfuscation
The saga of Phil Fasciana, guitarist from the band Malevolent Creation, and his heroic killing of a “80-pound homeless crackhead” Kwik E Mart robber gripped the metal world back in 2009. Apparently, Phil stumbled in looking to buy some chocolate milk and was shot at by the thief. In a scene that seems right out of a bad Don “The Dragon” Wilson action flick (because it probably was), Phil tackled the bad guy and wrestled his gun away. But this cagey crackhead reached for his hideout piece located, in of all places, his sock. Phil was forced to fire on the guy and kill him. There were more holes in the story than in the USS Bismarck. The poor, desperate homeless guy with enough money for two guns. The lack of a murder weapon, a dead body or a witness. Days afterwards, the police confirmed the story was complete nonsense. This didn’t stop a good number of metalheads, myself in particular, from running wild with this fable.
The Parable of The Cave
Wolves in the Throne Room are just your average Rudolph Steiner reading, eco-anarchist black metal band. Over the years, they have rightfully gained a reputation for being somewhat eclectic. This, however, does not mean they live in a cave. Nearly every description I heard about the band went like this “They sound like ____________________ and they remind me of ______________________ and, get this, they live in a cave.” In fairness, they do look like they live in a cave, but so do 2/3rds of the metalheads under the age of 25. They live on an organic farm. There are clear structural differences between a cave and a farm that I shouldn’t have to explain.
Dead…Again?
Death rumors are a favorite among metalheads. Back in 2005, Type O Negative pulled off the ultimate hoax when they convinced the world that singer Peter Steele had died. This became quite confusing when Steele actually died last year. Was he really dead this time? Would he rise on the second day as some sort of ironic, Easter-themed publicity stunt? The last album was named Dead Again for gosh sakes! And Rasputin was on the cover. That zany Russian died something like 28 times and kept coming back! This had to be some sick joke. Unfortunately, it was not and Steele has not risen…yet.
The 2005 Steele death was the most convincing death rumor I have heard, but far from the first. I’ll never forget spending an embarrassing evening back in 1993 mourning Pantera singer Phil Anselmo’s untimely death. The word was he had dove off of the stage and the crowd had parted, unwilling to take seriously their responsibilities as members of the metal community, allowing Phil to slam into the floor. His neck broke and he was pronounced dead in the pit. The injustice! I remember mournfully looking at the sky and shouting “I would have caught you, Phil! I would have caught you!”
Theme From An Imaginary Grindcore Album: The Birth of UnMusic
Posted by Keith Spillett in Articles I Probably Shouldn't Have Bothered Writing, UnMusic on February 5, 2011
Today is a landmark day in the history of music. On Saturday February 5th at 10:37 AM a new genre of music has been born. Welcome to the world of UnMusic. Many times I have read the song titles on albums and thought to myself “This album has great song titles, it’s too bad the songs are horrendous.”
If you have had that thought from time to time, then UnMusic is for you. UnMusic removes the irritating and grating music that is on albums and merely gives you song titles. I give you the song title, what your imagination does with them is up to you. Think of the possibilities? Music without the limitations of actually having a song! I’m not even going to give the album a cover with artwork. I feel like that would be selling out. You, the listener, have complete artistic freedom to imagine what we would have sounded like had we actually recorded the songs.
For the purposes of marketability, the music will (not) be recorded by my band E.T.A.F. (Eats Things that Aren’t Food), who are known for their top 40 single “Jodie Meeks”. This genre is deeply influenced by grindcore (particularly by the band A.C.). Grindcore is a style of metal that often features hysterical song titles and horrifically unlistenable songs. Why bother with the songs?!?!?!
I was thinking about grindcore when these songs were (not) written, and actually believe this album better fits into a subgenre known as UnCore. That being said, I don’t want to limit your imagination, so if the songs sound in your mind like Michael Bolton or Earth Wind and Fire when you think of them, go with it.
Band: E.T.A.F.
Album Name: Unfriended By Life
Songs:
1. Obligatory 2 Minute Acoustic Guitar Instrumental Intro
2. Tipper Gore Told You To Throw Out All of Your Judas Priest Albums…But You Didn’t Listen
3. I Got Scolded Because I Made Fun of the Drummer From Winger
4. You Hung Out With The Band Skindred in A Parking Lot
5. If Lincoln Were Alive Today, He’d Be Angry They Buried Him
6. Stop Staring At Me…I’m Not Going to Talk to You
7. You Have Children
8. Mubarak Has the Best Interests of His People In Mind
9. “So…Wait….Now You Are Saying That You Are Not A Doctor?!?!”
10. I Follow People Around Malls
11. You Like Tomatoes, But You Don’t Like Ketchup
12. You Met Your Wife At A Viking Metal Concert
14. Ketchup Is A Vegetable
15. You Lost Your Children’s College Fund Because Jerome Bettis Fumbled
16. You Missed a Meeting With Your Parole Officer To Go To An ICP Concert
17. You Sent Your Son To School With Head Lice
18. Choose Life…The Lesser of Two Evils
19. You Learned to Speak Latin In Order To Sound Arrogant
19. You Gave Blood
19. There Are 3 Track 19s on This Album
20. You Were Unfriended By Soccer
21. You Voted In Florida And It Didn’t Count
22. Two Tens For a Five (A Tribute To Goldman Sachs)
23. You Have Restless Leg Syndrome
24. No One Follows You On Twitter
25. You Are Allergic To Dog Dander and Milk
26. You Live In Buffalo
27. You Were Unfriended By Bacon
28. My 98 Year Old Grandmother Just Compared Municipal Waste to D.R.I.
29. You Live In Buffalo
30. “No Officer, A Sound Did Not Come From My Trunk”
31. You Gave Your Son Cortisone Shot So He Could Play In A Little League Game
32. You Have A Bank Account
33. People Don’t Take You Seriously Because You Have A Mustache
34. You Pay Taxes Because You Think Its Patriotic
35. If It Wasn’t For All The Crime, Miserable People and Decaying Buildings, Gary, Indiana Would Be a Great City
36. Sucks to Be You…You Play Soccer
37. Soccer is The World’s Most Popular Sport
38. You Own A Copy of The Movie “Space Jam” and You Don’t Have Any Kids
38. HA! HA! HA!!! You Voted For Obama…and He Lost!!!
39. You Went On Strike Until Your Company Agreed To Show Jerry Springer In The Break Room
40. You Live In Buffalo
41. You Are An Organ Donor
42. You Know How To Properly Use A Semi-Colon
43. You Quote Ayn Rand
44. You Hope That Iron Maiden Plays All The Songs From The X Factor At Their Next Concert
45. Your Kids Don’t Talk To You Because You Have A Mohawk
46. You Think That People Are Smiling In Commercials Because They Are Happy
47. Nobody Goes To Your MySpace Page Because Your Band Does Lionel Richie Covers
48. Spellcheck is Wrong…Grindcore is One Word
49. No One Knows What Barney Greenway is Talking About
50. I Listened To The First Carcass Album and Became a Vegetarian
51. You Are So Metal That You Were Into Ozzy Before He Joined Black Sabbath
52. Raggacore Is The Next Big Thing
Hidden Tracks:
52. You Think It’s Ironic To Have Song Titles Without Actual Songs
53. It’s Funny Until You Start Talking
54. Some Random Cover of A Band I’ve Never Heard Of Like Budgie
55. A.C. Can’t Sue Me For Stealing Their Idea Because They Can’t Afford A Lawyer
56. Even Spammers Ignore You
Down With CMOBD: A Survivor’s Story
Posted by Keith Spillett in Totally Useless Information on December 30, 2010
Digging my way out from mega despair
“You can watch them all day and never know why…”
-The Mighty Machines Theme Song
I’ve spent the last 43 hours and 12 minutes with a song from my son’s Thomas the Tank Engine video in my head. The song is called “Accidents Can Happen” and, needless to say, it’s not very good. They tell you about a lot of things before you have a child, but they never seem to mention the debilitating effects of children’s music on the functioning of your mind. There was a point in my life where I was able to have a normal flow of thought. That time is over. In less than four years, my mind has turned into a Ringling Brothers sideshow act.
There was a song on a Blues Clues DVD called “Bebop A”. My 2 year old daughter spent the entire car trip from New Jersey to Atlanta screaming “BEBOP A…HEY, HEY…BEBOP A…HEY HEY!!!” Once or twice is very cute. Heck, 50 or 60 times isn’t bad. But after a while, the stuff gets into your blood. You can’t go anywhere or do anything without thinking of it. It’s like graffiti on your cerebral cortex. You zone out for a minute and there it is. Over and over. When you lay down and close your eyes in a 30 dollar a night Motel 6 somewhere in Southern Virginia and you see Steve from Blues Clues staring at you with that smug, goofy look shouting “BEBOP A!!!!” you really get how far gone you are.
There are three stages of CMOBD (Children’s Music on the Brain Disorder). The first is a general acceptance of the song. You hear the Clifford the Big Red Dog theme and you don’t think much about it. You go about your life pretty much unhindered. Occasionally, you notice that you are humming it, but you are nothing more than slightly amused that you remember it. This is the denial stage. Maybe you’ve been hooked before, but you think…not this time.
The second stage is where you start to lose control. It’s when the song starts to consume you. It runs through your mind constantly. Sometimes it’s just the chorus, sometimes it’s a just a phrase, but it starts to take over your life. You are driving a car. Suddenly, you realize you are headed in the wrong direction on a highway. You realize you were singing the awful Aaron Neville theme to The Little People. Something about how Aaron says “little people and we’ll always be friends”. Perfect. You are lost in it.
You are an air traffic controller and someone asks you “What runway should we land that DC-10 on?” You reply with a blank stare. You were thinking about the music at the beginning of Dinosaur Train. Hundreds of lives hang in the balance and you are thinking about dear old Mrs. Pteranodon. You have lost all orientation. You are a CMOBD zombie headed with a one-way ticket to destruction.
Then, there is the third stage. Complete withdrawal. Blinding rage. Utter confusion. You are angry at the world because they can’t hear what you hear. You don’t care whether they understand you or not. You know that there is no thought that is more important than the Teletubbies theme. You close your eyes and you begin to understand that the smiling baby inside of the sun is looking at you and only you. You crave Tubby toast. You start to feel angry that the Tubbies have spilled things again and forced the Noo-Noo into more backbreaking labor. You can no longer distinguish the world from your own personal CMOBD purgatory.
Many recover, but a relapse is never far away. A CMOBD sufferer need only here a few notes and the whole vicious cycle starts again. The confusion. The hysteria. The shame. There is no known cure for CMOBD but we as parents must be vigilant. I have spent three and a half long years suffering from repeated bouts of CMOBD, but I have not lost hope. I know that a brighter tomorrow is just around the corner. Won’t you be, won’t you be, won’t you be…my neighbor.
The Tyranny of Tradition 