Another Rambling From A Crazy Metalhead: The ‘How The Fuck Do You Call This Metal?” Edition
While I hate things that are pawned off as decent music and branded with some type of ‘-core’ at the end, there are still things much, much worse out there. Every once in a while I stumble upon something that terrible and it immediately propels me into a violent baby punching rage where the only thing that can contain me is a quality dose of real music. Unfortunately, the majority of this garbage can be somehow be linked to the grindcore, aka the genre that of all shit too indecipherable to be thrown into another category gets stuck with, group. Don’t get me wrong, I fucking love me some quality grindcore along the lines of Aborted, Napalm Death, Rotten Sound, etc., but I hate nondescript white noise that is the equivalent of a seizure into a microphone even more than I hate fans of Buckcherry.
Once upon a time way back in 1988 a band named Anal Cunt paved the way for countless ‘bands’ to create stupid, taboo names and write nonsensical songs about everything from abortions to cannibalism to more abortions. Last week metalunderground.com ran a column on a new band called Vaginal Penetration Of An Amelus With A Musty Carrot or VxPxOxAxAxWxAxMxCx for “short” (which obviously cannot be stolen from Anal Cunt’s abbreviation AxCx). The first thirty seconds of their debut song, ‘Mass Suicide With A Rusty Comb’ go by smoothly enough before the spawn of Satan himself recites Rosie O’Donnell’s queefs as quickly as possible. If you don’t believe me, look it up. No, I dare you. Before I heard that, I let this stupid trend go unnoticed for entirely too long and just didn’t care. Nobody listens to bands like them anyhow for them to gain any sort of recognition unless it’s a metal hipster who is too cool for a band that has sold more than nine albums, and we tend to call those people elitists.
If nothing else, this genre gives even the most handicapped children a realistic shot at becoming a singer. It sounds like all you have to do is gargle your bong water or your shit stained diapers as quickly as possible to repetitive drum beats and sloppy guitars and you are on the map in no time flat. I’m sorry to the VxPxOxAxAxWxAxMxCx, Cock And Ball Torture, Anal Squirt Massacre, and Spermswamp fans among others, but I can safely say you might need professional help that metal cannot come close to helping you with. Dare I say if Rick Santorum wanted to put an end to only that kind of music the world might actually be a better place. Until then Mr. Santorum, I hope you die as quickly as possible so that the metal and the porn are safe.
I just feel like if there are metal ‘artists’ out there with no regard for talent and are apparently just doing what they do to be more offensive and stupid than their predecessors, that would make us no better than rappers. Maybe I’m missing the point entirely and it’s all just so mindblowingly brutal that my head would pop if I tried to embrace it. There is a line somewhere a little past anything that Chris Barnes has written lyrically and growled into a microphone where the profession of ‘vocalist’ takes a giant nosedive. Yes, I’m aware that some people get more accustomed to grindcore, death metal and everything else and can understand the majority of the words, and if those people read this they would tell me that I’m delusional and stupid because they can totally tell me what the fuck is going on supposedly. I’m sorry to those who I offend but the best instruments in the world won’t save pig squeals chopped into Morse code for vocals. If you are only listening to these bands to be ironic or edgy, then killing yourself is probably the best advice I have for you, because frankly nobody will ever love you if they hear you enjoying it.
Oh, and for the seven people who get excited about me updating, I apologize and will get back to writing more soon. Men’s league softball season ends in three weeks and then I can dive headfirst into a hearty concert calendar and some more obnoxiousness.