Unholy Three: Thrash Edition

SUICIDAL TENDENCIES: HOW WILL I LAUGH TOMORROW WHEN I CAN’T EVEN SMILE TODAY (Epic records). Their greatest album, and by far my favorite thrash record. The addition of guitarist Mike Clark elevated ST beyond the skate-punk competition into something else entirely: the hardest, smartest band ever to inspire slam dancing. The title track is simply one of the finest metal songs ever written. “Sorry?!” is another classic, the perfect ST fusion of raw emotion with punishing hardcore. And I’d argue that the album itself has been totally ignored as a founding piece of melodic metal. What the hell do those Nordic-screamers have on Cyco Mike Muir, anyway? And think about the amazing harmonies and beautiful quiet moments in Starkweather, Overcast, and Shadows Fall: pure Muir.

SLAYER: REIGN IN BLOOD (Def Jam records). Finding something original to say about this masterpiece is like voicing a new compliment for Citizen Kane. The thing is just massive, a sonic beatdown equivalent to getting on Sonny Liston’s bad side. I saw Slayer open one night in Tampa with “Raining Blood.” Everybody heard the rain effects first, upon which a collective “oh shit” was uttered. Then Paul Bostaph hit those unholy three notes and it was on. Talk about a mosh pit, it was the biggest fistfight I’ve ever seen (I actually have a recurring shoulder injury I date from that show). Among my cherished memories was the site of the metalheads finally standing up to the neo-Nazis (who mostly took over the floor during Biohazard’s opening set). Typically, it was the hardcore kids versus the skinheads, with metal on the sidelines, but that night the longhaired crowd carried their own weight. It was a site. Anyway, just hit play on this one.

MEGADETH: RUST IN PEACE (Capitol records). Again, the band’s greatest, by miles and miles. “Hanger 18” combines the speed of classic hardcore with the precision and intricacy of the finest symphony orchestra. And those alien conspiracy lyrics, hell, they’re better than the final few seasons of the X-Files combined. I think this is the one album where Dave Mustaine just stopped brooding over Metallica and did his own thing. Every track is a masterpiece: fast as hell, ridiculously complex, sneering, aggressive, concussive. I love everything about Master of Puppets, and I think "To Live is To Die” is one of the greats, but I’m afraid I have to say that Mustaine topped his old boys with this one.

Zombies, man, they really creep me out

Find yourself some time to read Tim Cavanaugh’s terrific “We the Living Dead: The convoluted politics of zombie cinema.” It’s a great piece, easily the best thing you’ll ever read about gut munching and surviving a zombie holocaust.

TRUE STORY: I was attacked by a zombie after watching George Romero’s latest living dead epic, Land of the Dead. It was opening night, shortly after ten. My girlfriend and I left the theater at Union Square and started walking down Broadway. Somewhere around 12th street we see this dude shambling in our direction, doing that unmistakable zombie walk. “Oh my god, a zombie!” my girlfriend jokes. We get about ten feet from the guy, who’s still weaving and stumbling, when he lets out a sound somewhere between a moan and a growl and lunges at me. We grapple a little and I sidestep him. He turns around and attacks again. This time I sidestep but grab his back, using his weight and momentum (tall, beefy frat type) to throw him to the ground. He hits pretty hard and his head smashes the curb. There is a very loud and disturbing thud.

But it isn’t over. He gets back up, blood streaming from his forehead. He seems to be contemplating a third go, then some sound from the street draws his attention. Off he shambles into traffic. Now, this is Broadway in New York City on a Friday night--cars, buses, etc. etc. This zombie dude squares off in front of a big tour bus and starts banging and punching the front window. Several witnesses rush to inform me that the guy has been walking up the street, picking one fight after another. I learn he was punched out just moments before attacking me. (I’ve since theorized that he got into a bar fight, was ejected, but was so drunk that he just continued to fight as he stumbled up the street.) We hear sirens coming and my girlfriend and I split before any more living dead show up.

It took less than a minute, but I remember distinctly thinking while it happened, “If this guy bites me, I’m fucked.”

I think it may thrill you. It may shock you. It may even horrify you.

Neil Gaiman on the ghost story's enduring powers.

The Nigerian Scam meets H.P. Lovecraft.

Violence and horror in country music and the blues.

Happy Halloween!

Self-Promotion

I've got a piece on the metal band Isis in this week's New York Press. Pick up your free copy on the city streets or read it here.

I Cut the Head Off the Devil and I Threw It at You

Apparently, some Helsinki-based GWAR-wannabes called Lordi just won the chance to represent Finland at the Eurovision song competition in Athens and ended up sparking a culture war over what it means to be a Fin. Can you imagine the Insane Clown Posse winning American Idol? Naturally, rumors are running wild. In addition to the usual noise about devil worship and boys wearing make-up, my favorite conspiracy centers on the theory that band are really masked Russian agents, sent by Putin to pave the way for a Russian coup. [!] Some concerned Fins want their president to wield the veto and replace the metal band with more traditional folkie types. Others are contemplating more drastic measures. The Times quotes one delightfully outraged soul who threatens, “if Lordi wins Eurovision, I am leaving the country.” Why all the blood, tears, and national insecurity? Devil-horned Lori singer Tomi Putaansuu says it best: “In Finland, we have no Eiffel Tower, few real famous artists, it is freezing cold and we suffer from low self-esteem.” Bang your head to that, Finland!

Do They Owe Us A Living?

Roderick Long has a characteristically insightful and provocative post on the labor law brouhaha in France. Here’s the money quote: “…in general a removal of restrictions on an entity doesn’t count as a move toward liberty if the entity is still a substantial recipient of government privilege or subsidy.” In other words, before free market types get misty over this very modest bit of liberalization, shed some tears over the corporate welfare that’s keeping the bosses in business.

Who's gonna mow your grass?

Buck Owens, the honky-tonk king of Bakersfield, California, died on Saturday at age 76. The pioneer (along with the great Merle Haggard) of the “Bakersfield sound,” a raw, electric guitar-driven style that combines the best of hardcore country and rockabilly, Owens scored 20 #1 hits, including the jukebox classics “Act Naturally,” “Together Again,” and “Waitin’ in Your Welfare Line.” A major influence on acts ranging from Dwight Yoakam to The Beatles, Owens was perhaps best known for his gig co-hosting the cracker variety show Hee-Haw. Be sure to crank “Streets of Bakersfield” some night soon and drink a few for Buck and his Buckeroos. RIP.