I'm Illegally Downloading Several Discographies As I Write This

Last night, I was listening to my Saint Vitus LP. This morning, I was enjoying 3 Inches of Blood on the CD player on the drive into work. When I got in my work van, I was blasting Anvil in the tape deck, and as soon as I got out with my tools, I was listening to Iced Earth's first few albums that I had torrented on my ipod.

Lets all be honest here, Pretty much all of our favorite bands are not going to make any money off of CD sales. The only bands nowadays that do, are the ones who got lucky twenty years ago with the record execs. If you drop twenty bucks to "support the artist" on the digipack version that has live recordings from eons ago, you're not supporting the band, it's the money hungry cock mongers that have them in the salt mines that you're supporting. If you're a band that gets signed on to a big ass label that can't wait for royalties to your song, you're going to be sorely disappointed. Even poseur little bitches don't get paid for shit today. Bands that make cash on their music are usually independent bands, or are on a small to medium sized label...even if that label is just their own label. 

I feel that this "supporting the artist" argument I hear from mallcore brats and metalheads that don't know any better is almost an ego trip as opposed to something they feel needs to stand for. Take it from someone who has a fair amount of CDs, Tapes, and Vinyl. There's a really good feeling you get from physically holding that music in your hand. This is a treasure that you found, and you earned, be it through saving up pennies from your undersized paycheck, or stealing it from your neighbour's place under the cover of darkness.

Soon...

But take a step back and think about this. Most bands charge 10, maybe 15 bucks a pop for a CD at a show. Shirts often range from 20-25. Would buying CD's really make all that much of a difference when for every CD they sell, they get 0.00000023% of the profit? And sure, you got local bands who're not on a label and get most if not all the cash for their tunes, but that's an entirely different situation here. You probably know these guys and copied your answers off of them in high school tests, they're not opening for Hammerfall, nor are they Hammerfall.

In many cases, bands outright encourage you to download all of their shit for free. They post youtube videos on facebook, sometimes a video that's just the entire album played straight. They know that their medium is more likely to be pirated than a cruise liner with Tom Hanks at the helm, they just want you to be entertained. Besides, they know the money's going to be coming from merch, not their music. When's the last time a band on stage asked the crowd to go buy their albums off itunes, spotifiy, or rhapsody or whatever the fuck, instead of just going to the merch booth and pick up something if you want to?

You better go buy our latest single, or I will slap you, girlfriend!

So, my views on paying for music? Do what you want. I'm not going to hold it against you if you download Heavy Load's discography, try finding releases by them off Amazon that don't cost you your fucking soul. 3 Inches of Blood certainly isn't losing any sleep worrying if you people will deprive them of their two dollar royalty check, what with them regularly posting links to youtube videos of their entire discography. And we're always going to be media hunters. I'm still buying vinyl records, CD's and even cassette tapes for Dio's sake, and I still find time out of my day to download Heidevolk albums.

And then there are those odd few poverty line warriors, the one or two guys who shame you for wasting your cash on band's albums you could easily get for free. Don't bother trying to rip into those assholes.

That's my job.

From the Frontlines: Skeletonwitch, Sabaton, Amon Amarth

The night started with a migraine. It ended with me battered and beaten in the middle of the highway, but that part's a story for another time. I was scowling a path in front of me to clear my way through the sidewalk, although this was nothing new. I wake up with the look on this face. The pounding in my head mimicked a hammer on an anvil if the anvil was my head. It was after I grabbed some food that I ran into Conan. He's as big of a titan such as myself, only he looks a bit like Jason Momoa if he was a caveman. He invited me up to his apartment with six other people for pre-show boozing. I accepted, not feeling like mentioning my condition to ruin anything.

We got upstairs and killed some time before the show. He had up there 6 or 7 people whose names I could not possibly remember if you asked me. We drank, I had three beers sober as a bird, and one guy almost threw up after half a can. After that, we made our way to the Commodore. The Commodore is not your typical place for a metal show. While the carpet around the floor feels like it's never been washed, the place reeks of dance music and overstuffed wallets. And it was being filled up with Metalheads who've more than likely never seen a hundred dollar bill in person.

 A C-note? Sure, I guess I can show you that.

I met up with Eddie, who looks like he could've been in Candlemass' Bewitched video. Which is fitting, seeing as he worships Messiah Marcolin. We talked of attending a few upcoming death metal shows before I noticed perhaps the most perplexing thing I have ever seen at any show in my entire life. A chick...with a tail. A fucking stuffed fox tail sticking out of the backside of her belt. I stared at it for a minute while Eddie was going off about Death To All. I tried to remain focused on the conversation, but I kept looking back to the dumb broad with the furry fetish out of sheer confusion.

She was with another girl, who was about as suitable for a metal show as her, with skin tight white pinstripe pants,  gauged ears, and a dyed pink fauxhawk. The fact that they were likely a pair of super feminist lesbians was beside the point. Furries and their textbooks upon textbooks of psychological issues have no place in the same sentence as a metal show, much less at one. It wasn't long before Eddie noticed my bewildered gaze.

Eddie: "Man, what're you looking at?"

Me: "That."

Eddie: "...Wow, she trying to be Beetlejuice or something?"

Me: "Maybe, but I wasn't looking at that. I was looking at THAT."

Eddie: "...what the fuck?"

We were just staring at this in complete silence for god knows how long. I was thinking about why. Why the fuck. Is it a protest or something? Metal furries unite? is she trolling in real life or something? When Eddie's other companions showed up is when the discussion began.

Some Guy: "Hey, Ed. What's up?"

Eddie: "Nothing... Oh this is Jay, we were just..."

Another Guy: "What're you guys looking at?

Me: "That."

First Guy: "...Wow, she trying to be Beetlejuice or-"

Eddie: "Yeah, not that. THAT."

First Guy: "...The fuck?"

We all stopped and stared for five or so minutes until one of us asked what we should do. Should we confront her? Tell her to fuck off? Should we beat her up? COULD we beat her up? It'd more than likely be misconstrued as gay bashing or girl beating as opposed to the public service as it actually would be. This debate of ethics went on for roughly fifteen minutes.

Some Guy: "Would it be acceptable if we got another woman to join us? If we had a gay person, it'd be more inclusive."

Another Guy: "I think we can beat her up, as long as we don't include the girlfriend, that way people know it's not about-"

The lights began to dim and the pre show music cut out, signalling Skeletonwitch's set.

Me: "Fuck. Okay, if she comes near the pit, we'll just yank the tail off and stomp it out. agreed?"

Everyone: "Sure."

We then dispersed to where we assumed the rim of the pit would be. I'm not gonna lie, at the time, I didn't have that much of an idea who Skeletonwitch were. All I knew was that they're part of that North American Blackened Death/Thrash Metal scene that I tend to steer clear of. Just irks me when people dilute Black Metal like that. So you'll know that I fucking loved them when I say that I bought their last record from the merch booth instead of illegally downloading it. That fate was saved for the rest of their discography.

Everything was going smoothly in the pit, until it happened. I don't have all of the factors yet, such as exact wind speed, angle of the earth's axis, or which gods I've pissed off recently, but I fell. the first time in my many years of metal. With the unstable footing of the floor, me not wearing my boots, and the formidable force of Conan's shoulder, I was knocked flat on my ass. But as I pulled myself up with my will and the arms of my allies, I got back into the fray, intent on returning Conan the favor. The rest of Skeletonwitch's set was mostly a blur, their songs blending quite well into each other, leaving a fairly seamless experience that most good black metal albums have. Going over their last album recently, I can tell they picked their setlist fairly well to achieve that. Once the last song was nearing its conclusion, I slammed into the pit rim seeing another familiar face.

"Frenchie!"

He has a real name, but it's funnier this way. I then of course pulled his froggy ass into the pit. He moved here from France, but people think he's from Quebec. It'd annoy me if I were him. Quebec is France for hipsters. He reluctantly moshed for a bit then waved his white flag to safety. Skeletonwitch concluded their set, and I chatted with Frenchie about what he's been up to. Like Eddie, he's going to the upcoming Death Metal shows. I find that French people in general prefer Death Metal over most other genres. Odd. as he was munching on his baguette, Conan came barrelling from the shadows in a straight line towards the Amon Amarth merch booth. All who were in his way met with an untimely end.

This is almost as destructive as the wake of Conan

I curiously followed the trail of bodies to find at the end that he had purchased enough shirts for pretty much everyone he knew that couldn't attend the show. And half of that pile was for himself. I personally didn't bother with an Amon Amarth shirt. Wearing a band shirt is meant to convey that you are a fan of that band, so wearing an Amon Amarth shirt is kinda redundant. They're like Bon Scott-era AC/DC, everyone likes them. If you're a Metalhead, it's kinda implied you like Amon Amarth.

Sabaton took stage, and there was much rejoicing. Joakim was in great form, his voice not failing on him until the very end of the set. I haven't bothered listening to their newest album, yet. Mostly because I'm sure I'd like it, but not love it. But to their, credit, the songs they did play made me reconsider not illegally downloading it or finding a record in the near future. About halfway through, Joakim picked up a guitar, and I briefly shuddered. A singer bringing out a guitar is rarely a good sign in any situation. He sucks on guitar. And that's not me saying it, that's him. Apparently this song needed three guitars so whatever.

Really, I kid. He didn't suck, he was humble, and knew his limits. After fucking around with the other guitarists (a one sided guitar duel) they got on with the rest of the set. Sing alongs, hopping, what you'd expect from Power Metal.

When Amon Amarth showed, the entire place exploded, Once the pit opened up, it generated a shockwave that reverberated throughout the venue. At one point, there were three separate pits going on. They played all the songs you'd expect, Hel, Guardians of Asgaard, Death In Fire, they didn't disappoint. But in the pit, there was one of those guys. You know what I mean, those drunk, shirtless bald guys flailing around too fucking hard, practically becoming a spin kicking scenester. after taking a forearm in the back, I knew what had to be done.

 It is time...

Now, I'm going to throw up a disclaimer here. Targeting someone in the pit like this is bad for not only your metal health, but your cred. I may joke about this sometimes, but I mean it here. Do not try this at home, I'm a professional. I took the blow in stride, leaned back on the pit rim as though I were in a wrestling ring, pushed forward with my godly might, and shoulder charged him into the rim, knocking the drunk out of him. He would later return, much more composed and moshing properly. Now, Amon Amarth pits are incredibly brutal, even by Melodic Death Metal standards, so it should come as no surprise that an injury will inevitably occur. Hell, Eddie walked away from the night with a bloody nose, but I bore a much more severe blow.

Obviously, between the pit and the band are the people who want to be at the front, constantly pushing through to get their chance to fist/horn bump with the band members. But here, it's a pulsating, throbbing mass of people, expanding and contracting perpetually. Since there was a very thin barrier of people between the two, it was entirely possible to get snared within the throng... As I experienced. Either I got too close, or an elbow took me further than I expected, but my arm got caught in the mass of single minded metalheads. I tried to pull myself free, but it was too metal. Then, my other arm was knocked into the other side, trapping it within as well. Then for the next 45 seconds, people unknowingly careened off my chest.

That's right, I survived crucifixion in an Amon Amarth pit, what the fuck have you done with your life?

PUSSY.

 So anyway, that's how I sprained my wrist.

Then Amon Amarth finished their set. Except they haven't played Twilight of the Thunder God. One of the reasons I really hate encores is that there's no fucking surprise to them. Is Judas Priest really not going to play You've Got Another Thing Comin'? Will Blind Guardian seriously be surprised to hear people demanding they get their asses back on stage to play The Bard's Song? The extra 3 minutes between the set and two more songs is just a waste of our time and energy. Play all the songs You're going to, stop stroking your egos and fucking finish your job.

So, the night was a success. For who? Me, obviously. I witnessed three great acts, earned my bruises and sprains in the pit and even took out a poseur or two. To those of you who've yet to take part in the tour, I can say that you won't be disappointed. Just don't forget to bring some painkillers along.

You Are Never Allowed To Quit Metal.

This post was originally supposed to be re-done but I decided against it. I've always preferred demo work anyways.

About a year or two ago, my non-metal friend invited me to go see a horror movie for his birthday. Being a bit of a gorehound I decided to indulge. Although, the only horrifying thing that occurred that evening was the fact that I had to spend it with the other people he invited, one of those being my fucking nemesis. This asshole was infected with falseness from the very minute he laid hands on a guitar. He squeals at the mentioning of Whitechapel, he worships Trivium and most likely lost his virginity to an August Burns Red CD.

So, we go see the shitty Silent Hill sequel, come back to my place because my friend and his pawns all live a fortnight away, and we play some video games. I had already started drinking upon seeing the poseur, so I had to take a piss. When I came back downstairs, the motherfucker had not only stood near my guitar, not only breathed near it, not only touched it, but he was fucking playing it, and putting it severely out of fucking tune. I was so stunned by his audacity that I couldn’t even muster up the proper response (which is to punch, him in the gut and slam his face into the pavement outside). I attempted to calm down, and make sure he hadn’t touched any of my decrepit records that I’ve rescued from pawn shops. Luckily they were untainted.

So, I then pick up my bass to try and ignore what the fuck was going on, when the poseur (not catching any of the fucking hints) comes over to recommend some of his shitty “Tech death” bands. I add the quotes because they all just sounded like watered down Dark Tranquillity…So basically current Dark Tranquillity. I’m getting near the point, bear with me. So I counter all his shitty sludgy, proggy mallcore shit with naught but true vanguards of steel and then he says one of the many things you can say to permanently reduce what metal credibility you could ever have. “I’ll admit, you’re more metal than me-“

Conversation over. It’s done. We don’t need to continue here. You just fucking said why I shouldn’t bother with you. I knew I was more metal than you before we even met, I don’t need you of all people to tell me. I could never be more disgusted by the fact that we are currently sharing the same room as I am now. You admit that anyone, FUCKING ANYONE is more metal than you and you still think that you can talk to me as if we’re equals?

When you walk among your true brethren, this subject never comes up. Know why? Because we’re all more metal than each other. True Metal as a state of mind comes from never admitting that anybody could be more metal than you are, with the rare exception of a future version of yourself. It’s this state of perfect arrogance in which you are a god, and all who walk among you are equal as such. Once someone comes out from the metal closet and concedes their metal cred, it breaks the fucking chain. Here’s one of your brothers, someone who you’ve moshed with or headbanged in unision, eagerly anticipated the release of an album or forthcoming of a concert. And now he’s just told you that was all a lie? What the everlasting fuck?

Now before you state the obvious, yes, the mallcore brat was lying, as I knew from the second he clumsily blurted it out of his mouth. Why? Obviously, it was an attempt to get me to accept him as a friend. This is damn near worse than saying that, and meaning it. I ask any of you reading this, are you so fucking desperate for a friend that you’d be willing to give up the one thing keeping you truly metal?

If your answer was anything other than “Fuck Metallica!!!” I await the day I pummel you into the pit.

The recap to the Amon Amarth concert is forthcoming, bitch.

Moratorium: Stop preaching

No more. That's all. Stop, fucking stop.

You are all a bunch of fucking lemmings running headfirst off the cliff, knowing that you're about to become a pile of guts on the canyon floor. You keep on doing the same shit over and over again, expecting it to be awesome, it turns out mediocre, you bitch about nobody noticing you for what creativity you have, and then you about and do it anyway.

Basically, the point I'm trying to get across here is STOP COVERING JUDAS PRIEST SONGS.

We get it. We know. We knew before you were going to tell us. We knew as soon as you picked up a guitar. We knew you're a fan of Judas Priest because you play Heavy Metal, or one of its various subgenres. Judas Priest IS metal personified into a band, and if you play heavy metal, or more specifically traditional metal and guitar oriented power metal while playing Victim of Changes, you're doing nothing to show off your creativity as a band.

The point of a cover is either to take a song from another genre and play it in your own style, adapting it to make it an almost entirely different piece, or to support a fellow band that's just starting out along side you.

Last I checked, your influences were Judas Priest, Iron Maiden and Motorhead, and you were formed in 2008-WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!

Here, I'll give you good and bad examples of Judas Priest covers. You be the judge,

number 1?

or number 2?

Try again, Better 1?

Or better 2?

And while we're at it, NO COVERS OF COVERS.

Steelwing happens to be one of my favorite Traditional Metal bands out there right now, and they made the asinine decision to not only cover one of the weaker tracks of British Steel, but to cover Green Manalishi, which itself was a cover of a friggin' Fleetwood Mac song! And don't pretend for one minute that they were covering this song for Fleetwood Mac, this is all because of Priest.

You can blame Priest for EVERYTHING

 

Were they thinking that nobody would notice that Priest covered the same song 40 fucking years ago, and that they just so happened to have Steeler on that EP?

So if there's anything I want you to take from this, it's that covering Priest is only going to get you a few cheers at a show, it's not going to make you become Priest as much as we all want it. Want your scene to thrive? introduce people to other bands that either don't get covered often, or don't get the recognition they deserve. Cover Brocas Helm if you play Thrash, try your hand at Cathedral if you play Death, Skyclad if you're Prog, I don't care.

Hell, here's a compromise, if you're going to cover Judas Priest, don't cover a song if it's been released on Painkiller, or any album released before. Have you fucking heard Jugulator? It's a fucking masterpiece. Are you a keyboard laden Power Metal band? Go fucking nuts on Nostradamus. And Angel of Retribution has some of the most fucking awesome riffs that should be played by a thrash or doom metal band.

Honestly, I feel like it's just laziness when you people want to play a cover along with your original songs. You want approval from your audience and as soon as they hear the riff to
Breaking the Law, you'll hear it. But if you're playing Metal, fuck, if you're making music for someone else's approval, you're already doing it for the wrong reasons.

The Penultimate Guide to Surviving Your First Concert

With Paganfest 2014 hitting Vancouver tomorrow, I realized that I would need a replacement for the fur bracers that I lost in a recent drunken adventure. As I was perusing various sites for a suitable fit, I remembered that the person I was going with had never gone to a Folk Metal concert before. I realized that she would need to go through all the basics for being the most metal person at the concert. Then I realized again that I shouldn’t limit my knowledge of all that is metal to just her, I’ll tell all you motherfuckers how to be the most metal person in the fucking venue on your very first show.

#1. Attire

The clothing for a metal show is almost universally blue jeans, and a band shirt, with a few varying themes, but the primary genre of the concert does hold a priority on what you should wear. We’ll go by genre.

Heavy Metal

The least demanding variation. Jeans and a band shirt is the template, but you’ll need leather somewhere in there. I personally make do with my studded leather mallcore brat punching gloves.

Thrash Metal

Almost exactly as before, but less leather and more denim. This is the kind of concert where the patch vest calls home. As long as the patches fall into the category of metal or rock ‘n’ roll, you’ll be just fine. At first, this may sound like they belong on a poseur, but skinny jeans and high tops are classic thrash. And I’m not talking snug fit, I mean crushing each testicle into your leg, that’s how tight those jeans need to be.

Power Metal

Jeans, steel toed boots and leather. You’ll need some spiked bracers to show that when you throw up the horns, motherfuckers will need to duck out of the way. As for your vest, make sure it’s prepped to be a battle vest. What’s a battle vest? You miserable bitch, it’s a patch vest lined with chain mail! Don’t have access to chain mail? Fuck you, go buy a couple dozen bike chains and improvise.

Doom Metal

Chances are, you live in a town or city that has a church. Chances are, that church has a priest with the dress and everything. Chances are, like most priests, they are susceptible to chains and broken beer bottles. And you, being a metalhead, know innately how to ruin any kind of clothing to make it metal. You do the math.

Black Metal

Black. All Black. All fucking black. Black boots, black jeans, bland band shirt, black leather vest and/or jacket, black hair. Not a natural brunette? Well tough fucking shit, you’re not allowed into the concert.

Death Metal

A Death Metal concert is probably the only kind of concert that camo pants/shorts are accepted, albeit not necessarily encouraged. Nobody knows why, but it just is. Open wounds will turn some heads, and allow them to open up in the pit, spreading your metal to everyone in attendance. It’s a public service!

Progressive Metal

The mathematical equations required to accurately convey the proper clothing for a progressive metal concert are so above your feeble mind, I might as well just let you go to a Prog concert so you can be beaten up as a poseur rightfully should.

Folk Metal

This is entirely dependent on your locale. From Finland?  Kill a moose with your bare hands and attach the antlers to your skull, wearing its skin to gain its strength. Canada? Go diving in the river collecting beaver pelts and arm wrestling grizzlies for their bear hands. Australia?...well, you’re jolly well fucked. But one of the rules is that you must walk from the wilderness into the concert, and if you have fewer than eight twigs in your hair, you better hike back and do it all over again.

#2. Pre-show

Before you go, you’ll need food. It’s going to be a long night, and you’re gonna have to keep your energy up. Hit up wherever the fuck you want, just make sure you’ve had enough to fill a bomb shelter. Doesn’t matter where you eat, if you’ve had the proper amount of beer, you’ll throw it up anyway.

By the time you got to the show, you’ve probably realized how fucking out of your league that you’re anxiously shaking. Fret not, just lean up against the concrete wall, and very subtly smash your skull against it repeatedly. You’ll eventually damage the area of your brain that concerns such things, or kill yourself. Either way is a win-win. On one hand, you’ll go through the whole night without making a poseur of yourself, or you’ll have died recreating Accept’s Balls to the Wall video.

Once you get in the doors, you’ll have access to booze of several varieties and the merch booths-

#2.5 Spotting a poseur

The chances of a poseur in any show are always greater than 1%, damn near no exceptions. Here’s a short list of the common signs that someone is a poseur, unfamiliar to our ways.

-Ear gauges

-lamb of god, Soilwork or Children of Bodom shirt, one of those bands that’re those “melodic groovecore” shit that people think transcends all genres.

-Glasses

-Doesn’t drink even one beer

-Is wearing a shirt of the band performing (the exception is if they got the shirt at the merch booth from the concert you’re currently at, or if it’s a festival)

-Checks out your ass (regardless of gender or sexual orientation). This is a concert, not a fuck zone, we don’t need people banging each other in the disease ridden bathroom.

There are many others, but you can pick up on it on your own.

#2. Pre-show

-where you can have a good chance to take any potential fights for some free shit. In the middle of a brawl? throw a shirt and attempt to blind your foe, then knock him unconscious. Take the shirt and flee to safety to don it. Depending on the concert, there’ll be a mosh pit, although some bands in all genres will have one regardless.

If you suspect a pit, you’ll want to get a good idea of how the floor will be once it’s inevitably drenched in beer. For example, the Rickshaw’s floor is the same kind of stuff that’s under the ice at your average hockey rink. This means that once it’s wet, you’re sliding around like you forgot your skates. But to offset that, the heat generated from the pit will cause the beer to dry quickly, making the floor much stickier, thus giving you more traction.

#3. The show

This is the easiest part of the show. Simply headbang and throw up the horns when you feel like it. Take no shame in getting some air or a fresh beer every now and then. It’s going to be a long night. As for the horns…

If you ever, ever stick out your thumb, you are not metal. You are pissing on the legacy of our lord and savior Ronnie James Dio by besmirching the holiest of symbols. If you see someone else perverting our sign, sentence them to death in the pit. Speaking of which…

#4. The Pit

The mosh pit is a treasured tradition dating back to when our people first met those of the punk rock clan, and we have not stopped this sacred dance since. There are three basic forms of mosh pit, Your average pit, a circle pit in which all participants move clockwise, or counter clockwise, and the wall of death which is as metal as it sounds. There are three roles to play in a mosh pit and I will outline them as most, to least metal

-Mosher

You are in the middle of it. Trading blows with your brothers in arms. The only acceptable forms of body contact in the pit are pushing with outstretched arms, and hockey-style body checking. This is the perfect time to legally lay some hurt onto the poseurs you scoped out in the line. As for ladies, do not discriminate, treat them no differently than you’d treat another man. They expect nothing less from you.

-Bumper

The main line of defense for the average concert goer, without you, they’re all dead. Your job is to push back anyone who falls into you accidentally. Should someone fall near you, pick them up and push them back in where they were going, they’ll need the extra momentum. Should someone fall in the middle of the pit, don’t be a hero, it’s too late for them.

-Buffer

Your role is the least important. You stand behind the bumper to cushion the impact for the people behind you.

It is inevitable that the pit will result in a fist fight, and if you’re not a part of it, simply step back and cheer on the truest participant until the bouncer comes in to ruin the show.

#5. After-show

Congratulations, you’ve survived your first concert thanks to my guidance and looked like a seasoned metal veteran while doing so. Unless that is, you’ve deviated from my perfect formula and wound up in a ditch, so good fucking going.

For my guide on how to save your ass, you’re going to have to wait a few months. I’m going to partake in an epic drunken escapade with Korpiklaani. Hopefully Turisas has forgotten how to play their last album tomorrow night.

This metal tree needs pruning.

(I know, not a very clever title, and this post is somewhat of a mess, but I'll fix it if I ever give enough of a shit.)

I was struggling with talking shit about this subject because at first, I liked watching them every once in a while. But every time I watch one, I find something fucking wrong with them. What am I talking about even though you can clearly tell what it is by reading the fucking title? Metal documentaries. At first, you’d think that doing a documentary on pretty much any aspect of Heavy Metal would be a good watch or a great way to give a poseur a crash course in true metal. But in practice, the failure usually lies in the filmmaker’s bias and ignorance to basic facts about metal. Now, what was the first thing that came to your mind when you saw the title of this post? Sam Dunn and Banger Films, right? Of course, they’re practically the only documentaries we’ve all watched in our lives. Lets be clear, when you do a documentary on something like metal, you’re going to inevitably let your preferences take control of the production. First of all, the family tree.

The Heavy Metal family tree sounds like a good idea at first, but the second after you think that, you’ll realize it’s not as easy as one would believe. Not just that mapping the relations of genres is pointless when several bands within even a singular genre can take inspiration from a dozen bands of different styles of music, but identifying bands that belong in said genres falls to the responsibility of the listener. Sam or whoever put it together barely fucking listened to genres outside of thrash, death and black metal. Lets start with the original tree from the top with Early Metal

Okay, got the basics on here. Sabbath, Deep Purple, Zeppelin and whatnot. I’d argue that most of this is rock, but seeing as how many of these bands were highly inspirational to the first generation metal bands, I’ll give it a pass. But Moving straight over to progressive metal is where we instantly run into a brick wall. Uriah Heep and rush. Let me make this clear. I’m Canadian so I’m hardwired to like Rush. But Rush and Uriah Heep are not metal. Progressive rock. Then lets not forget that he has the audacity to list Meshuggah as if to imply they are a quality example of progressive metal. Moving to Power Metal is where we really take a swan dive into the shark. Scorpions, Judas Priest, Rainbow, Accept, and Dio. Are you fucking kidding me?

Scorpions and Accept I’ll get to in a minute, but Judas Priest? Are you high? They are inarguably THE heavy metal band. Black Sabbath may have gotten the ball rolling and I will concede that they are the first doom metal band, but Judas Priest fucking set the mold. How the hell do you misplace them?! And Rainbow? Okay, I’ll give that they were the Power Metal archetype on stage with the larger than life scope of the show, the rising album and some tracks off long live rock ‘n roll, but their live improvisation and interplay between the guitar and keyboard are really only things you see in very rare bands in Power Metal. They influenced a lot of progressive bands, but really it was Dio’s lyrics that most Power Metal bands took inspiration with.

Now, moving way on over, he calls mislabels Doom Metal bands as Stoner Metal. Okay, somebody please point out to me a Stoner Metal band. I am unfamiliar with this genre because aside from Metal Archives’ never ending mission to invent more genres than bands, I haven’t found any evidence that it FUCKING EXISTS!!! Witchfinder General, Saint Vitus, Candlemass, Trouble’s early work, this is all fucking Doom Metal. And if the 12 year old who wrote this would stop listening to his first Metallica record and fucking look on the Internet for 3 minutes he would fucking know this!

And then we have shock rock an hard rock to justify Glam Metal and Pop Metal. Okay, why do you need to split hairs here? Is Quiet Riot really all that different than Twisted Sister? Sweet was hardly that high on the Sunset Strip’s radar. Guns n’ Roses was pretty much the closest thing to Hard Rock I can possibly give you a definition of. And Doro!? One of Heavy Metal’s five female vocalists that actually sings metal? You have the testicular fortitude to imply she belongs in the same breath as Def Leppard?

And now here’s what I was alluding to earlier. The New Wave Of British Heavy Metal. I’ll say right off the bat that I think the idea of assigning a geographical location to a “wave” of music is over-analytical since many bands that sound similar to bands in said “wave” would come from several different places. For example, Accept and Scorpions. Walk up to anyone who knows anything about metal and ask them what they call Accept and they WILL say heavy metal. Ask them the same thing about Scorpions and depending on the person they will sigh and begrudgingly call them the same, or piss on your car. The only reason they’re in the Power Metal section is because they’re from Germany. The reason why Dio is in there is because they were an American band and that Sam only listened to Heaven and Hell and only saw Dio’s album art. The reason why Judas Priest is in power metal is because they were pushed out of the NWOBHM section by Sam’s massive hard on for Iron Maiden.

Now listen, you like Iron Maiden, and I like Iron Maiden. EVERBODY likes Iron Maiden. They’re the AC/DC of metal. But I am still not entirely unconvinced that Sam Dunn got Banger Films started purely because he wanted to meet Bruce Dickinson and interview him for EVERY DOCUMENTARY HE DID. I’m not kidding. Headbanger’s Journey, Global Metal, and most episodes of Metal Evolution. The motherfucker finds every reason to get in a room with the guy. Even in the Shock Rock episode where he just gets him to squeeze in a talk about how is inspiration was Arthur Brown. This is primarily where I find the problem in a metal tree. When you give British Metal its own spot, you’ll demean the importance of bands from other countries and confusingly put them in a different genre.

The inclusion of Goth metal is one of the things that really perplexes me. Is it really that valuable of a genre? Also, I’m not an Opeth fan, but their music sounded more like a Progressive/Death band than anything Gothic. Speaking of raised eyebrows, Grunge is on here. Look, even the grunge bands that he interviewed in his grunge episode didn’t think that Grunge had much if anything to do with metal. This is not the only genre/band that he tries to desperately legitimize as Metal, so fuck this. Punk’s on here to influence Thrash and the first wave of black me-MERCYFUL FATE?! Are you fucking stoned?! Another straight up Heavy Metal band mislabeled? Why? Because King Diamond wears corpse paint?! Does that make Kiss Black Metal?!

Remember when I said that the writer of this barely listened to anything outside of Thrash and Death metal? Well, take a gander at the Thrash list. Fifteen goddamned bands, including the inspiration for every PBR drinking, pot smoking eighteen year old with an Ibanez and baseball cap, Pantera. Then there’s the other proto-nu metal group, Sepultura. Resident shitty Melodeth band Children of Bodom are on here for no goddamned reason. Over to the right, industrial metal is on here for no other reason than to justify Nu Metal on the list. We’ll get to that eventually.

Now, I’ll come right up front and say that when it comes to Black Metal, I’m no expert. Aside from Venom, early Bathory, and the odd other band, I don’t know enough to consider myself a Black Metal elitist. I can also humbly say that I was never a great geographer. But still, I can confidently say that I do not believe that the UK is in Norway. What does this have to do with anything? Well, I guess I’m just wondering why CRADLE OF FILTH is on NORWEIGAN BLACK METAL, let alone on a BLACK METAL list!!!

Death Metal…I have no problems here other than the fact that Nu Metal was apparently somehow inspired by them. And here we have the first of the ‘core bands. Grindcore. I know that half of these bands are either death metal or just Thrash, and that Grindcore fucking sucks. Next. Okay, Metalcore inspired Nu Metal? Why does that seem kind of inverted to me? Also, it’s just thrash that inspired Metalcore? The very name implies that it’s a combination of Hardcore punk and metal! If Just thrash were the case, Metal radio stations wouldn’t suck!

Hard alternative is on here just for Nu Metal, and you’re seriously going to have to help me out on this because I have no fucking clue what Hard alternative is. But if Rage Against the Machine and Faith No More are on here, I can only assume that Hard alternative is another name for Nu Metal as much as I find Goth Metal is for Symphonic Metal. Speaking of which, he got Nu Metal 100% right. Save for Metalcore and Death metal inspiring it. Aspiring metalheads, take note. These are the bands to avoid.

Okay, looking at Swedish Death Metal we have another problem. The reason why Sweden’s Death Metal scene was so interesting was because many of their bands had melodic elements in the music when Death Metal is normally void of melody. Some of these bands are indeed Melodic Death Metal. But some are just plain Death Metal. BUT we also have groovecore sellouts In flames and Soilwork. And this list was made AFTER they sold out. Anybody with an internet connection would know this shit! Also, calling it Swedish Death Metal will distract from other bands that play a similar style but aren’t from Sweden…I’m just repeating myself, so lets move on to the final rectangle.

The “New Wave of American Metal” is something that literally makes every metalhead I talk to laugh their asses off. And not just because I’m in Canada. According to Sam Dunn, the brilliant anthropologist who discovered this exquisite and innovative genre, such notable acts that are a part of this movement are Shadows Fall, Lamb of God, Darkest Hour, Chimaira, Killswitch Engage, Unearth and God Forbid. So basically Metalcore. Yes, Sam Dunn has deemed the swath of False Metal that American warriors of steel are having so much trouble with to be the new face of American Metal. That is fucking heinous! They have enough troubles with MTV, The radio, Eddie Trunk and Hot topic, they don’t need an alleged metalhead supporting these fuckers!

So yeah, the “Definitive Metal Family Tree” is full of shit. Big shock. Maybe in the future I’ll talk shit about the movies and maybe the show. But in the meantime, I’m going to go into the false part of town and start a fight.

From the Frontlines: Warbringer, Overkill and Kreator

A few weeks ago, I had the fortune to attend the Kreator concert in Vancouver. Because I'm a paranoid fuck and have a need to show up to the general area of a show hours in advance, I had about 3 hours to kill before the doors opened. I decided to head to the rock shop to grab a Testament t-shirt I didn't have since I was wearing an Iron Maiden shirt (side note, wearing an Iron Maiden or Black Sabbath shirt to a show is like walking up to every concert attendee and saying "I LISTEN TO METAL TOO!!!"). When I was there, I met three other people in town for the show. One, a dude who while clearly metal, did enjoy some punk. The chick (who from here on I will be referring to as "The Chick") the most metal of the group with the bullet belt and Overkill backpatch (I'm struggling to remember if it was actually Kreator, but what the fuck ever). And some dude half our size with a spencers' trucker cap and gauged ears. I inaudibly expressed distaste and pity in his direction throughout the entire night.

We talked a bit about random shit until I had to keep up my metal health with a pizza and three bottles of molson to warm me up. I pissed away about an hour listening to some dude playing guitar for his facebook page. Something about breathing new life into Vancouver's metal scene, I forget. While the guy could play, I found it mildly amusing that he wants to "Breathe new life into Vancouver" when the city already has a pretty good metal scene as far as North America goes. After fucking around for another hour, I stumbled on over to the Rickshaw theater. To get to the Rickshaw from Robson street is a bit of a hike. Take a wrong turn, and you'll be forced to wade through half a kilometer of homeless and junkies looking to blow you for 20 bucks. Unfortunately for me, I zigged when I should have zagged and was forced to endure the gauntlet of STD ridden crackheads.

Upon reaching the venue, I was pleased to see on first glance that no poseurs or gauged ears were in sight. Every one was of the proper attire save for a bunch of Kreator shirts before the doors opened (for more info, see here). Whenever I go to a thrash concert, I for some reason wind up talking to guys going in that are 15-20 years older than I am (save for a shorter, less ugly version of me). Probably because they're the only ones metal enough for me to relate with. Thanks to me making a rogue facebook check, I found that moment to the joy of surrounding attendees that Death Angel was going to be touring here in February (Woohoo!). With Tyr (Hell yeah!). Supporting Children of Bodom (FUCK!!!). Once I discovered that bad news, the doors opened and we all got our beers. Far too many chose PBR over Cariboo.

Next came the thirty minutes of acquainting ourselves with the merch, layout of the floor, the general area of the pit and the entire discography of Iron Maiden playing through the speakers. The Rickshaw is a redesigned theater that used to show old kung fu movies but was shut down because the denizens of Vancouver have no taste when it comes to film. About a decade ago it was turned into the concert hall it is now. So first up was Warbringer, probably the most punk Thrash Metal band I've seen. There was not a second where their guitarists weren't flailing about wildly, leaping on top of their amps or just plain headbanging like psychopaths. Save for a few Kreator songs, the pit during their set was at its most vicious. In between songs, I reunited with Beard, The Chick, and Ear Gauges to partake in the usual metal conversations:

"Fuck yeah!"

"This rocks!"

"WARBRINNNGERRR!!!"

During the intermission, I opted to go grab a beer and get some water from the convenience store next door. This is where I found the first poseur of the night (Ear Gauges, I'm still keeping an eye on though. Oh, he wasn't as blatant as your typical scene queen, but he caught my scrutiny fairly quickly. At a first glance, you may just think he's an oldguard in a white collar. You, know, clean shaven, short hair, what have you. He's wearing jeans and a leather jacket sure, but what is that you spy UNDER the jacket? Not a band shirt or even a black t-shirt, but a WORK SHIRT. You read that right. I'm talking "collared, front pocket, kinda shirt you see on a golf course" work shirt. Before I selected my junk food, I waited for what this void of intelligence had to say. This guy however did the unthinkable. His clear lack of knowledge was exposed in mere milliseconds of him exhaling what sounded like words out of his mouth.

The lady behind the counter: "Sounds like a big show is going on over there."

Undercover false man: "Yah. It's Kreator. Best band in the world next to Metallica."

I nearly dropped my god damned bag of cheezies. I'd need a full keg to drown the falseness I had paid witness to. As he left, I saw him subtly put something down on the counter as the lady turned her back. It was a small flyer for a metal radio station "I GOT YOU DEAD TO RIGHTS NOW, MOTHERFUCKER!!!" I screamed in my mind. I paid for my fuel, took the flyer as toilet paper for later, and kept a sharp eye on the jackoff. Returning inside, I met up with the trio and noticed the poseur walking by, very unsubtly checking out The Chick's ass and at the last second making it seem like he was looking at her backpatch. Thankfully, I was not the only one who sniffed him out. The Beard glared at him as he went into the hall.

Beard: "Did you see that?"

Me: "Yes I did."

Chick: "What?"

Me: "That jackoff was checking out your ass."

Beard: "That motherfucker."

The Chick then went upstairs to the restroom after saying something that I forgot in my drunken stupor.

Beard: "Can you believe that asshole?"

Me: "Yes."

Beard: "The fucking poseur."

Me: "I fucking called it when I first saw him."

Our conversation was cut off with the fading lights in the hall, and everyone piled in for Overkill. If Kreator was not going to play after, there may have been a riot, but it would have been worth it just for Overkill. Electric Rattlesnake, Hammerhead, and motherfucking Ironbound. A kickass circle pit and crowd surfing came together to form a truly awesome experience. Nothing of much importance happened after their set save for Justin Hagberg, guitarist of 3 Inches of motherfucking Blood attending the show. This is one of the great things about the Vancouver Metal scene. Often times your favorite band from there will just show up right next to you without you noticing until the last second.

When Kreator took the stage, the entire fucking building might as well have been a pit. Phantom Antichrist is a fucking excellent song, and is the reason why I couldn't talk for two days after. When they played From Flood Into Fire, I grabbed two other guys, a black dude with an afro missing three teeth, and the previously mention non ugly version of me and started headbanging in unision with them at the shoulder throughout a good chunk of the song. The set had two circle pits and a truly brutal wall of death. But that's not the best part of this set. Right in front of where me, Beard, and The Chick had stationed ourselves, a fight broke out. I'm not sure why, but I am sure of who. The poseur radio station asshole was getting his ass rightly pounded.

The bouncer came in and grabbed the pussy and the other guy by the collar and escorted them the fuck out. Me and Beard joyously flipped him off side by side as he was being led out. Sure, Mille wasn't too pleased with that, but hell, the fucker deserved it. The show was fucking awesome. It was all the ruthless carnage of the world tied together with the focused fury that Kreator gives out. This all culminated with the performance of their title track from their masterpiece of an EP, Flag of Hate. At the time of this writing, they still got a few more shows in Latin America and then Brazil. So if you want to pay heed to a thrash show to tear your face off, you better have been born wearing an Iron Maiden shirt and kicking a soccer ball out of the womb.

Having pushed my liver and ears to the breaking limit for the month, I elected to head back to my car for the night. The last I saw of Beard, The Chick and Gauged Ears was outside after the show when I drunkenly swaggered to the skytrain. Apparently, the poseur was allowed back into the club whereupon he was grinding or something on The Chick. Beard was pissed off and rightfully so, as he was her boyfriend. The asswipe seemed totally oblivious as to how much of a dick and poseur he was, as most are. I probably would've made things worse, being drunker than an drunken Irish dockworker's drunken Irish dockworker uncle, so I managed to find my way to a station and miraculously got off at the right stations to my car.

I love it when true metal punishes a foe.