In Defense of South by Southwest

We're in the throes of South by Southwest season and surely if you're in some way a music or media fan (or check social media even occasionally), reports about it are pretty hard to ignore. And in more recent years, people have actively started to make an armchair sport of mocking how overblown and commercial SxSW has become.

Yes, it IS incredibly commercial. I roll my eyes every time I read an insane announcement about how the iTunes Festival is setting up shop and bringing Coldplay and Pitbull. It totally tickles me to think about Lady Gaga playing the Doritos stage, which in past years has been modeled to look like a giant vending machine. And please believe I'd pay to have access to a Judge stage-dive cam for their throwdown for Converse.

But you know what? I'd still go back in a second if it fit into my schedule. My experience with the Austin-based culture extravaganza extends only to attending the music portion several times over. I've never really done the tech or movie parts (despite having access) because of time constraints and to spare the health of my liver and kidneys.

Here's the thing, though: in all my many years of going, I've never had a bad time. Whatever type of music you're a fan of, you'll likely find it. There are literally thousands of artists that descend upon the city for your entertainment. And you have the nerve to complain that these acts are picking up some corporate exposure along the way?

Sure, my experience is biased as a member of the press. I've never had to load in or find parking around closed streets flooded with jaded day-drunks. (FYI: I'm saving all my intoxication, band and make-out stories for the inevitable book.) But are you seriously willing to tell me that hanging outside in (usually) warm weather, drinking a free beer while watching an endless array of bands is a BAD thing? Buddy, you've got problems.

So after reading and hearing so much dumb smack-talk over the last few years, I present my reasons of why you should stop complaining about SxSW.

In Defense of SxSW in Five Gripes:

Ooh, SxSW is So Lame! When Have I Gone? Never
Those who actively denounce SxSW but have never attended can just step over to the left and STFU. It comes off petty. All that shit-talk sounds like embitterment because you've never been connected, adventurous or intrepid enough to make your way in. Hell, even without any kind of pass, bracelet, credential or guest list, ANYONE can catch free music, eat (good) free food and drink free beer if you resolve to get in the thick of it and show up in Austin.

Not Liking SxSW is Kind of Un-American
Think about the tenets this country and the Peoples Republic of Texas are founded on: loud music, ever-flowing beer, cool breezes and seared meat. Guess what? That's pretty much what you're in for at SxSW. And since Austin is home to Whole Foods, chances are there will be a veggie option. You're going to tell me that this is a TERRIBLE proposition? Time to move to Canada and attend NxNE instead.

There's No Discovery Because People Are Busy Watching A-List Acts
Sure, your editor might expect you to cover the huge marquee performance, and that might conflict with the set time of the new band you're dying to check out. Luckily, said unknown band probably has five gigs at SxSW, so you can do BOTH. Or if you're not obsessed with being the humble-bragger, pick a lesser marquee act that you've always wanted to see but haven't. A few years back when Metallica was headlining Stubb's, I decided to go check out Devo for the first time and my mind was blown. Then I probably went off to see some metal band stomp all over Emo's.

There are literally opportunities to see music each day from noon until 4am - day party to after party - the great alpha and omega of South by Southwest. Even without trying hard, I've probably caught 35-50 acts per trip, with plenty of eating and schmoozing in between. Remember the time there was a Profound Lore showcase, followed by a jaunt to see Panic! At the Disco before grabbing a Sausage King dog and hopping in a pedi-cab to see Eyehategod and Pentagram play a huge field? I fuckin' do. That was also the same day I caught The Kills and Havok back to back. Yes, folks, you CAN see it all.

It's Way Too Commerical
In a one-block radius, I once scored Mountain Dew sunglasses, a remarkably soft Rolling Stone T-shirt to sleep in and a much-needed chicken burrito from a truck with Danny Trejo's visage and the Shady Records logo painted on it. Why? Why the hell not!? It was there and marketing is everything. Might as well suck on that teet and save your food money for drugs and bartender tips.

SxSW is Too Impersonal
Ooh, I can't get into this panel and see my favorite NPR commentator or the kid I know from Twitter.... I'm gonna call bullshit right here. Since Austin is smack-dab in the middle of the country, people from LA and NY (and all those other places in between, even from across the world) attend, making it a wonderful place to rub elbows with tastemakers, potential employers and the dorks you had flame-wars with in the Geocities days.

Still not convinced? Not much more I'm willing to say. But at least do yourself a favor and live through SxSW once before shrugging it off. As Albert Einstein put it, "The only source of knowledge is experience."

Zena T

PS: Want to see who've I've seen? Some SxSW galleries HERE and HERE.

The only source of knowledge is experience.

Albert Einstein

Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/topics/topic_experience.html#OZAeolY4KRZi5v1V.

Hunting Osama: The Soundtrack

While reading an Esquire feature on the SEAL team member who was part of the hunt of Osama bin Laden, a couple of interesting music-related tidbits were revealed.

1. Metallica are back-peddling wusses. Not particularly revelatory.
It is important to him to stress that no women or children were killed in that raid. He also insists that when it came to interrogation, repetitive questioning and leveraging fear was as aggressive as he'd go. "When we first started the war in Iraq, we were using Metallica music to soften people up before we interrogated them," the Shooter says. "Metallica got wind of this and they said, 'Hey, please don't use our music because we don't want to promote violence.' I thought, Dude, you have an album called Kill 'Em All.

2. "God" - or Demon Hunter, at least - was on the Shooter's side.
A band called Demon Hunter got in touch and said, 'We're all about promoting what you do.' They sent us CDs and patches. I wore my Demon Hunter patch on every mission. I wore it when I blasted bin Laden."

Read the whole thing HERE.

A Message From Cliff Burton's Dad

Too sweet not to share. I'm sure all parents who had the misfortune of burying their child would want their memories to live on, internationally revered, immortal in their convictions and talent.

This one's for you, Cliff. Can't believe it's been a quarter of a century since your passing.

The Big Four... and Hating on Metallica

I probably talked shit about Metallica for a full week before the Big Four concert at Yankee Stadium, even though I'd long secured a good seat for the show. And damn it, I felt entitled to. No band—not even U2—have managed to pull such an incredible 180-degree about-face in their values and ethos.

Believe me, I fully affirm Metallica's capitalist right to go modern-day DIY and fly their own G5 plane around. But I don't support the notion that when they tour Europe, they camp out at the Four Seasons in Paris and fly back there every night from around the continent. Just imagine their carbon footprint. And how silly it is that a band that once abhorred music videos now sells "All Nightmare Long" light switch plates on their website?

It all started so innocently. In my early 'tween days, Metallica were my stars, my moon, my galaxy. I first became aware of them in an issue of Hit Parader, thinking these guys must've been really good to be that ugly yet manage to take editorial pages away from Motley Crue and Poison. I sought out their back catalog, and it was love from there on out—until I discovered punk rock as a high school junior. Then sometime between their suddenly suspicious appeal to local guidos via the Black Album and their attack on Napster, I opted out completely.

Did my initiation make me inherently hate their latter day work? Absolutely not. Metallica and I both aged and evolved, albeit in different directions. And that's within both of our rights. I've often thought about the fact that Jesus Lizard's Goat came out the same year as the Black Album, and how different my musical preferences could have been had I discovered them in 1991. That said, I salute Metallica's 30-year longevity and worldwide success.

And then I made my way to the Bronx. The near seven-hour concert began at 4:00pm, and the wraparound lines to get in foretold my company for the day, 54,000+ BMI-challenged metal fans wearing a nearly split amount of Metallica and Slayer T-shirts. The first of the Big Four, Anthrax, were already onstage and despite having the home team advantage, churned out a sonically flaccid performance to a quarter-packed stadium that included oldies like "Metal Thrashing Mad," "I Am The Law" and "Indians," with its irresistible "Waaaaar Dance" breakdown. I never thought I'd miss John Bush so much.

Next up were Megadeth. In the days prior to the show, rumors percolated that there was a chance they wouldn't play given leader Dave Mustaine's neck injury. Soon related stories emerged, from Exodus booking flights as replacements (I would've preferred Testament) to having ambulances on standby to escort the cantankerous ginger straight to the hospital for surgery immediately following their set. Mustaine ultimately pulled through and performed a nearly triumphant set, at times looking visibly in pain. Though some complained about their set list—not enough off of Peace Sells... But Who's Buying, too much newer material—I thoroughly enjoyed Megadeth. They were technical, precise and riveting when playing "Holy Wars," "Hangar 18," "Peace Sells" and "Symphony of Destruction." Even with his health on the line, Mustaine still managed to make a few political statements. To that end, playing "Foreclosure of a Dream" instead of "A Tout Le Monde" would have been more apt. Get well soon, Dave. Sorry for all the schadenfreude.

As dusk set in, Slayer finally emerged and then came the moment I'd been waiting for: to hear the "Slayer!" chant echoing throughout Yankee Stadium by the thick crowd and all the sweet subversion it brought. By far, Slayer were the loudest, the best sounding and the most relentless act of the day. Even the New York Times couldn't front on the fact that they blew Metallica off the stage. Bathed in red lights, their hour-long performance was a well-concocted greatest hit selection that plowed through "Chemical Warfare," "Dead Skin Mask," "Mandatory Suicide," "Disciple," "Silent Scream" and my beloved "War Ensemble." Not even the absence of guitarist Jeff Hanneman (Exodus' Gary Holt subbed and did a fantastic job) deterred from their laser focus. No bullshit, all pounding metal. I headbanged. To quote a first time witness: "I was waiting for Satan himself to show up."

It was nearly time for Metallica. Surveying the packed house before their set gave me a proud feeling, reminiscent of my very first concert—the Headbanger's Ball Tour '89 at Madison Square Garden's Felt Forum, featuring Helloween, Exodus and Anthrax—and how it awed me to be surrounded by so many like-minded people who understood all the ostracizing and prejudice that came along with having "different" musical tastes and wearing black T-shirts emblazed with skulls.

Despite the nostalgia, I wondered how many songs I'd manage to last through. Four? Less? The majesty of Metallica opening with "Creeping Death," followed by "For Whom the Bell Tolls" and "Ride the Lightning," could not be denied. But during "Welcome Home (Sanitarium)" something happened. I found myself disconnected and unmoved, associating the song with its ominous presence in the Paradise Lost documentary, rather than the track on Master of Puppets that exposed the band's fervid side and completely drew me in. And quite frankly, after seeing Some Kind of Monster, it was difficult to ignore the connection between psycho-speak and James Hetfield's whole "Do you feel good? We want to make you feel better!" banter. That was the moment it crystallized that any emotional connection to the Metallica "tribe" I once had was gone forever.

Though I'm glad I caught the second-ever live performance of "Orion" on my way out (I hope y'all have realized that Robert Trujillo is by FAR the coolest dude in the band these days), it disappointed me to learn that the last two songs of Metallica's main set—the marquee, signature songs they saved for last—were "Nothing Else Matters" and "Enter Sandman." [And seriously, did "Blackened" need the accompanying laser show? The fucking song is called "BLACKENED."] Still, considering I stayed for 10 whole songs, I'd like to think I gave them a chance to recapture my attention and faith, but it's clear they belong to the masses now. So I dub thee unforgiven.

Five Not-So-Metal Holiday Gifts

Like it or not, we're surrounded by the holidays. Beyond the insipid music and under-tipping anxiety, there's also the bombardment of ads for all forms of shlocky gifts. We're not even safe from the metal bands we know and love. Here's proof.

Slayer Christmas Ornament

One can only imagine that any tr00 fan would smash this ornament in half and carve Slayer's name into their forearm. Almost as good as the Human Centipede Christmas ornament.

High on Fire Hot Sauce

 So this is what Matt Pike has been putting in that belly of his. Get your bottle right here.

Mastodon Remission Switchblade Comb

No doubt inspired by the beardos of Atlanta, this classy comb was surely meant as a stocking stuffer for their fine facial hair. Bonus: there's also a "Hail Santa" T-shirt. #srsly

Metallica Sweat Socks

Perfect for sweating to the oldies. And they'd look smashing with some coordinating ...And Justice For All lounge pants.

Merry. Effing. Christmas.

My Top 15 Concerts Of 2009

Ultimately, 2009 will go down as the year I got to see a myriad of acts who've helped shape my psyche and meant so much during various stages of my life. A few performances (the Jesus Lizard, St. Vitus) were damn-near transcendent; others—like Nine Inch Nails' and Ratt's—reaffirmed my love for the artists. And some, like Rancid and Mehtallica, were pleasant enough but didn't arouse any particular emotions.

In total, I managed to see Young Widows and Earthless the most at four shows each. I also caught Brutal Truth and Bang Camaro three times apiece. Not sure what that say about me, exactly. But without further ado, here are my favorite shows of 2009, plus two newer artists I was really impressed by.


In Order Of Awesomeness:
The Jesus Lizard @ Irving Plaza - By far, the most impressive show of the year. I found myself wondering what life would have been like if I started listening to Goat instead of Metallica's Black Album as a teenager. [Set list above.]

Devo @ Austin Music Hall - Watching Devo perform in the last year of the ought decade, all I kept thinking about was how avant-garde they seemed here and now, much less during their early '80s heyday. Astounding visual show.

Nine Inch Nails @ Terminal 5 - I'd almost forgotten the love I had for NIN for over half my life until I saw Trent & co. destroy this warehouse of a venue; the Peter Murphy cameo was just gravy. Thank you for waving goodbye in high style.

Ratt @ Nokia Theatre - It was almost worth the 25-year wait to see my beloved childhood icons perform their debut album, Out Of The Cellar, in its entirety.

St. Vitus @ Europa - Truly, this was a bucket list moment for any true stoner rock fan. America's most revered (yet underrated) doom icons put on a better show at Europa than they did at this year's Roadburn festival. Guitarist Dave Chandler and Wino have never sounded better.

Gallows @ Latitude 30 - Led by lithe angry ginger Frank Carter, the Gallows is the most volatile, dynamic hardcore band around today. They're probably the only group I'm willing to see knowing I risk getting kicked in the head by one of its members.

Mastodon @ Irving Plaza - With a perch near the sound board, I had the perfect vantage point to see my Atl buddies perform their latest opus, Crack The Skye, in all its symphonic glory. The visual show, combining CGI and early Russian art films, further enhanced the experience.

Tom Jones @ Ruth Eckerd Hall - Half of what made this show so amazing was the fact that I saw it amongst nearly every geriatric and post-menopausal woman in Tampa Bay, FL. And those bitches went crazy each of the many times Tom girated his pelvis! Panties of all sizes went flying during "What's New, Pussycat?"

Cursive @ Bowery Ballroom - On the eve of Mama, I'm Swollen's release, I caught this intimate show from Tim Kasher and co. and left feeling a cathartic release. With healthy helpings of tracks from the last three albums, the performance was utterly sublime.


Pat Benatar @ Asser Levy Park - This free show at the Coney Island beach-adjacent park was a hilarious summer experience. Sitting on blankets and sipping booze out of Snapple bottles amongst south Brooklyn locals, hipsters and oldsters while listening to Benatar belt out hits like "Invinsible" and "Promises in the Dark" was incredible.


Hank III @ Music Hall of Williamsburg - Folks get their money's worth when they attend a Hank III show. Not only does the country scion put on a honky tonk set, he also includes a hellbilly review and closes things off with a metal set not recommended for the faint of heart (or at the very least, those who are squeamish about seeing vocalist Gary Lindsay bleed from the head). A birthday shout-out at the stroke of midnight before III launched into "Life of Sin" was an amazing gift.


The Sword/Year Long Disaster @ Bowery Ballroom - The Sword have come to be synonomous with my late friend, Erlene Zierke. We were all set to see them play at Lenny's in Atlanta the night we found out she was gone, and in her spirit all tearily attended the show. Then their turn in NYC this past January coincided with her birthday. Seeing them, and my old friends in Year Long Disaster was nostalgic, but in the the warmest way.

Young Widows @ Emo's - The combination of a good venue, fantastic lineup (it was a Brooklyn Vegan/SxSW event) and an energetic crowd—not to mention the Widows' tight, cogent sound—made this my favorite set of theirs of the many I'd witnessed in 2009.


Earthless + J Mascis @ Habana Calle 6 Annex - Earthless are pretty goddamn dope on their own. Add Dinosaur Jr.'s J Mascis into the equation, and you've got a psychedelic, head-nodding experience made even better with a belly full of Iron Works BBQ. Bonus: watching Mario Rubalcaba play drums.


These Arms Are Snakes @ Shea Stadium - Arty, loud, noisy, visual, layered. These words barely begin to describe the evocative, glorious noise that came out of this half-assed art gallery's sound system during TAAS' tumultuous set.


Two More To Grow On:
Krallice @ The Studio at Webster Hall - They absolutely blew headliners Wolves in the Throne Room off the stage with their Voivod-inspired metal sound.

Orphan @ Union Pool - This duo remind me more of a garage-rock Black Cobra than they do De Stijl-era White Stripes. The shit was gully.

For visual records of these shows plus a ton more, check out my Live Shows Flickr set. Jesus Lizard set list photo stolen from Brooklyn Vegan.

Creative Eclipses

What a week I've had: five shows in six days, a third-round job interview (wish me luck, this gig would rule), produced a shoot for the mighty Red Fang with the lovely Justina V., and my cat fell in love with a Juggalo. Oh, and I booked an early December trip to Texas!

More details to come, but in the meantime, here are a few iPhone pics from the marathon week.


Metallica @ MSG

Red Fang @ Santo's Party House

Jesus Lizard @ Irving Plaza

Cave In @ Knitting Factory

Earthless' Mario @ Bowery Ballroom

Baroness @ Bowery Ballroom

Ugh, Hatebreed... Why?!!

Everyone knows that I'm a huge fan of good (or intentionally bad) cover songs. This is probably why hearing about Hatebreed's forthcoming covers album, For The Lions, wounded my soul just a little bit.

Sure, it's cool that Jamie Jasta (the Tony Robbins of metalcore) wears his influences on his sleeve, and he probably thinks he's doing bands like Judge, Black Flag, Negative Approach and D.R.I. a favor by increasing their awareness within Hatebreed's fan base of mouth-breathing mosh mongers. But he's really not. And seriously, just because they named themselves after the Misfits song doesn't mean they have to cover it.

After all, once a song goes through the Hatebreed monkey music grinder, it all pretty much sounds the same. I'm sure Metallica's "Escape" will sound just as br00tal as Sepultura's "Refuse/Resist," but not as good as Black Flag's "Thirsty & Miserable."

Want more proof that nothing good can come of For The Lions? Here is a teaser of Hatebreed butchering Slayer's "Ghosts of War." Oh, the monotone horror...

SxSW '09: The Sights and Sounds, Pt. I

I'm slowly getting my hearing back and remembering what it's like to fall asleep without a beer buzz. South by Southwest '09 is officially over. And though some memories remain a little fuzzy, I've jotted down a couple of highlights from those warm days past in Austin.


Kravitz/FilmMagic/rollingstone.com


After a recount, I can confirm that I caught 38 bands' sets in four days; a breakdown can be found below. Metallica, however, was not among them. Going into SxSW, haters (myself included) speculated that their set would only last 20 minutes and retweeted rumors that their intimate Friday night performance at Stubb's would be impossible to get into. But much to everyone's delight, the lines weren't that hellish—and more importantly, the band went old school. The well-oiled machine played for almost 90 minutes and even threw the vintage cover "Breadfan" into their encore.

Do I wish I tried to get in rather than deciding to see Tricky and Devo at the Austin Music Hall (halfway across downtown) instead? Sure. Maybe I'll check Metallica out when they play MSG in the fall, but I still don't think I could ever absolve them of their sins against metal.

Am I glad I kept my SxSW tradition of seeing acts I'd never normally check out otherwise? Of course. Devo were really interesting to watch, especially considering the only songs of theirs I knew going in were "The Girl You Want" and "Whip It." I kept thinking about how avant garde they seemed—more than 20 years after they came out.

Devo
Overall, this year's SxSW didn't include the most top-shelf lineup I've ever seen, nor did it provide me with any transcendent musical experiences. Still, it was great seeing so many artists I like and people I know in one warm, sunny place that smells of BBQ and Lone Stars. It seems that there's no such thing as having a bad time in Austin, so I'm pretty certain I'll be back next year.


Wednesday
Brooklyn Vegan Party:
1. Young Widows - The tightest I've seen them yet. Can't wait to check them out next week at Europa.
2. The Bronx - Great set as always.
Evening Showcases:
3. Worst.Band.Ever - I seriously don't remember the name of this band because I blocked them out, but c'mon, a Flying V and a horn section do not belong in the same band with a mousy chick on a keyboard. Ever. Done.
4. Mariachi El Bronx - Though I don't think I'd hire them for my quinceanera, the Bronx's Mexican outlet was fun to watch. And all the songs were still about blow.
5. Blower - If you like Detroit rock and have an appreciation for platform boots, Blower is the band for you.
6. Arabrot - Recommended to me by Diane Kamikaze, these Norwegians would have been far more enjoyable if they kept their shirts on.
7. Iron Age - Part of a TXHC show at Red 7, these locals were truly throwback crossover. D.R.I. would be proud.


Thursday
Quack! Media Party
1. Dios Malo - Nothing like some local shoe-gazers to start off my morning. Thanks for the drink tickets, Al!
Magadee Records Party
2. Brothers and Sisters - Honestly, I couldn't tell you much about this acoustic country band because I was too focused on my Batter Blaster pancakes. Beer with breakfast? Why not.
Kerrang!/Guitar Hero Party
3. Rolo Tomossi - Screamo British invasion
Full Metal Texas
4. Kylesa - Fucking killed it.
5. Skeletonwitch - Old-school thrash + circle pits
Quack! Media
6. The Hold Steady - Great way to end my afternoon.
Evening Showcases:
7. Hull - Neurosis-influenced Brooklyn heshers
8. Dead Confederate - Southern gothic rock at its finest.
9. Ancestors - Tee Pee's latest droning stoners.
10. Chairlift - Inspired pop from Canada
11. Annihilation Time - Frenetic, explosive and angry, these guys are the new Black Flag.
12. Freeway - Though the State Property mainstay stuck with mostly new Rhymesayers material, I almost had a heart attack when he busted out into "Roc the Mic." Is Beanie in jail?
13. Early Man- Neanderthal metal

Friday
Metal BBQ /AAM Party
1. Earthless with J Mascis - The greatest post-Iron Works gig ever. Let the meat coma commence.
Evening Showcases:
2. Year Long Disaster - It always makes me happy to see Rich Mullins in Austin.
3. Datarock - I'm fairly certain this is an Andy Samberg/Lonely Island joke.
4. Tricky - So boring, so disappointing.
5. Devo - Amazing video and live show, but I still haven't joined the cult.
6. Cursive - It was so hard to tear myself away from this intimate gig, but I'm glad I left, because...
7. Gallows - ...catching Gallows was the best decision I made all night. They blew me away, but thankfully didn't kick me in the face.

Saturday
HIGH TIMES Doobie Awards
1. Blower - Celebrating their one-year anniversary as a live band, it was fitting that Blower kicked things off.
2. Year Long Disaster - Played a totally different stoner-friendly set from the night before. Sweet.
3. Earthless - Fun as always, I can watch Mario play all day.
4. Black Water Rising - New York's contenders for the hard rock throne.
5. Bang Camaro - These guys were literally playing around the corner from HT's affair. How could I not show up? Glad I did.
6. Priestess - A great way to close out the Doobies.
Evening Showcases:
7. Explosions in the Sky - A mellow night at Auditorium Shores with a fireworks climax. Couldn't have asked for a better show.
8. PJ Harvey & John Parish - Glad I got to be in PJ's presence, even if it was for the last few songs of the set.
9. The Knux - Not as awesome as I thought they'd be.
10. Amplified Heat - Austin fuzz rockers brought out the local crowd.
11. Broken Teeth - Holy shit, Jason McMaster's new band (yeah, it's the guy from Dangerous Toys) was really good.

SxSW Countdown

It's 27 degrees in NYC, there's been a dire lack of good shows (though this week's Witch/Earthless/Children and Bloody Panda/Wetnurse extravaganzas might placate me) and I miss actual, good Southern food. Time to head to Texas.

And while this year's SxSW headliners (Metallica, PJ Harvey, Devo) are more nostalgic than cutting edge, there is one party I am most definitely looking forward to: HIGH TIMES' 2009 Doobie Awards show.

OK, technically, you do have to pay to get in—even with a badge—but, what you do get is two stages filled with some amazing bands, FREE beer, and some other fun stuff you know HT wouldn't do without. And, there may just be a surprise or two... the kind of epic, reunion surprise you can definitely brag about and get stoner rock cred for experiencing. Trust.


(CLICK ON THE FLYER FOR LARGER VIEW)

I'll be twittering and blogging for 420.com (HT's "everything but the weed" lifestyle site). Follow me!

"Get Thrashed" Back To A Simpler Time

The past has been coming back to haunt me as of late.

It started when my mom found a batch of old photos, awards and report cards that captured my youth—plus some pretty wack hairstyles—and made me think about a simpler time when I was one of only maybe three metal kids at Seth Low Junior High, located in the bucolic cultural mecca known as Bensonhurst, Brooklyn.

Soon after, some of my middle school classmates started finding me on Facebook and reminding me of just how notorious I had been for choosing to rock skin-tight acid-washed jeans instead of rolled-up parachute pants with two pairs of pastel socks back in 7th Grade. To this day, I feel vindicated whenever I see four different shades of black nail polish at the Chanel counter—even teachers gave me shit for making this my consistent choice at the time.

Sure, it sucked sometimes being stuck in that guido hell, but it almost didn't matter. I knew the truth: Metallica were the unequivocal kings of all music, heavy metal was the Alpha and Omega of my existence, and it was obvious that Death Angel were by far better than Dark Angel ever could be (sorry, Gene!).



Maybe it's appropriate, then, that I recently took in the documentary, Get Thrashed, which pretty much summed up my musical soundtrack from the ages of 13 to 17 perfectly. Not only did the film touch upon local haunt L'Amour, the Bay Area scene (Ron Quintana still rules!), crossover (Go Sick Of It All, D.R.I. and Leeway!), it also served up super-size helpings of the so-called Big Four and a segment devoted to Suicidal Tendencies—all before wrapping things up nicely by introducing thrash's forbearers: Pantera, Shadows Fall and In Flames.



Better still, since the documentarians are also based in New York City, I attended many of the shows they highlighted in the film—albeit in an underage Kamikaze haze. They even displayed a ticket stub from the Madison Square Garden date of The Clash of the Titans tour that I went to on June 28, 1991. I'd postponed my Sweet Sixteen until the following night, opting instead to see Anthrax, Slayer, Megadeth, plus openers Alice In Chains (and a brief appearance by Public Enemy).



The movie even helped me remember why I worshipped Metallica so much as a 'tween, instead of blurting, "I want my money back," when I saw a photo of my room from back then—covered floor to ceiling in their posters. What's even crazier is that a lot of the people interviewed in Get Thrashed are my Facebook and Myspace friends now, too.

Get Thrashed far and away surpasses Sam Dunn's Metal: A Headbanger's Journey, which struggled to ensure each sub-genre was included and over-explained, yet offered no conclusion to the metal phenomenon's resilient vitality. So, wholeheartedly, I recommend Netflixing this bitch instead.

And since I'm a nitpicking asshole, below are some wise-ass observations:
* I really enjoyed the extended band coverage in the international, region-based Bonus featurette, which focused on lesser-known acts like Testament, S.O.D., Death Angel, Overkill, Sacred Reich and Carnivore. But Forbidden? Heathen? Atrophy? Razor? Really?
* Gary Holt is the Norm MacDonald of metal.
* I think I heard Brian Fair call the band "Nuke-lee-er" Assault.
* Cliff Burton still fucking rules.
* Dear Lord Satan, please help me un-see those spandex enormity pix of Billy Milano's balls.
* Why wasn't any footage of Dave Ellefson used during the Megadeth segment?
* Municipal Waste must be interviewed for any metal-related documentary in current or pre-production. Period.

Metallica's Death Magnetic: A Somewhat Unbiased Review

"Only remember Metallica as they once were..."
—Angel Juarbe


"Listen without prejudice."
—George Michael




There's no doubt about it, along with any new Metallica recording, there will always be the baggage they bring. Like so many '70s and '80s babies, I too fondly remember the glory of Metallica's first three records and their vital importance in turning me into the giant metal nerd I became. But it's a double-edged sword. Sure, they fucked up their own legacy with a streak of crap records (not to mention the vile hypocrisy of suing Napster after spending years publicly crediting their early success to tape trading—which, of course, was the Napster of its time), but its also become an albatross around their neck—albeit a multi-platinum, million-dollar making one.

As a music scribe, I'd like to think I can get past all that and listen to their latest, Death Magnetic, with an open mind (if not extremely lowered expectations), so having put that disclaimer down, here is my song-by-song gut-reaction review of their latest 10-track opus. If you care to play along at home, the boys have also posted more than half of it here.

That Was Just Your Life: Good hook/riff, and it sounds catchy with a vocal inflection that's reminiscent of Justice's "Blackened" days. The drums still sound like crap; at this point in my life, I've come to believe that Lars Ulrich is the Rob Leifeld of drummers. There's also something about James Hetfield's voice that's a little off. Is it the mix? Is it the singing? "I open up just in time to say goodbye" is probably not the best bridge for an opening track.

The End Of The Line: OK, here we go, this song actually evokes the Metallica I grew up listening to. James voice sounds gritty, and there aren't a million intro parts before he kicks in. Still, it's crazy to me that the definition of "heavy" has evolved so much that this track, which could even be a Master outtake (yes, I typed that) has more in common these days with the likes of Disturbed than it does with the elite four thrash acts they were clearly the kings of back in the day. Wait, a slow "singing" part just came in at 6:10, scratch that Master of Puppets comparison, we're back to The Black Album.

Broken, Beat & Scarred: This song is by far my favorite on Death Magnetic. Heavy, with a killer guitar riff that builds up like a tidal wave. Overall, this bitch is a driving force of guitars, half-murky drums and aggressive vocals. Classic Metallica... almost. "We die hard," barks Jaymz. Yeah, no shit. The guitar solo is pretty damn awesome, bass is still absent and pushed totally into the background, but this is definitely the most aggro track.

The Day That Never Comes: This one should've been called "The Hook That Never Comes." I can't believe this is their lead single and video. And chances are, if you're still reading this, then you've probably heard the song already. Next.

All Nightmare Long: Of all the songs, this is the one that's been stuck in my head the most. A pretty good rawk song, with an almost "Enter Sandman"-like intro before it gets heavy—or as heavy as Metallica gets these days—and uses more riffs than needed. Great chorus, "'Cause we'll hunt you down without mercy..." Too bad Hetfield's voice doesn't have the bite to sell it anymore.

Cyanide: Starts off really heavy with Kirk Hammett's signature guitar sound, and shockingly, you can hear bass on it. (Ironically, in my eyes, their newest member, bassist Robert Trujillo is undoubtedly the coolest guy in the band these days and the only one I would love to see play live.) Overall, this one chugs along, but doesn't kill it. At about 4:56, I swear the solo work turns into "In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida," but not in a bad way.

The Unforgiven III: Hold up, there was a "The Unforgiven II"? Guess that's what I get for protesting everything after The Black Album. Ignorance is bliss, as they say. This iteration starts off with some strings and piano, very somber for a token ballad but quickly goes downhill. Hetfield's vocals are fucking painful to listen to. Rick Rubin, did you convince him to sing that way? (I'm sorry, Rick. I didn't mean it. You've done more good for my ears than I could ever thank you for properly. Please let me interview you—or even clean your house—one day.) I am tempted to skip ahead to the next track (which I did).

The Judas Kiss: From the opening chords, this has the classic Metallica sound we all fell in love with at one point in our lives, but that love fades fast. I absolutely hate the ill-fitting chorus, and at eight minutes plus, this is also one of the longest songs on here, so it takes its time delving into mediocrity. Oh shit, a hot solo breakdown at the 4:28 mark that continues for over a minute. When it ends, James reminds us, "Judas lives, recite this vow/I've become your new god now." Meh, maybe 20 years ago.

Suicide & Redemption: This is a pretty decent instrumental that doesn't sound all too contrived, but also doesn't showcase a lot of Kirk's signature "wah-wah" sound; in fact I could only identify this as Metallica about six minutes in (it comes in at 9:57). Very meat and potatoes and chunky, but nothing that blows my mind nor makes me want to learn to play guitar just so I can rock out to it properly. I bet that gay-ass ballet troupe would use this in one of their recitals (sorry folks, but ballet is just NOT—nor will it ever be—metal).

My Apocalypse: What starts off kind of average quickly turns into a driving, speedy track where Hetfield delivers one of his better rapid-fire performances. And the drums don't sound like shit... good to close on that note, at least. This song really should've been further up in the sequence. But at least it leaves a pleasant, blood-metallic taste in your mouth.

Closing thoughts: What started out as a fun listen slowly turned into a monotonous exercise, considering more than half of Death Magnetic's songs are longer than seven minutes. At the end of the day, it doesn't restore my faith in the Metal Militia, but it will not go down in history as a St. Anger-type misfire.