Random things

1. Earlier this month, I went to see Henry Rollins at the House of Blues. The man is even more awesome live. I can't really explain why, he just has this...aura. It's energetic and genuinely uplifting. On the drive home I felt very relaxed and calm, which is odd for me because generally I'm worried or stressed out about one thing or another.

It was totally worth the hour drive to Cleveland, the mad rush the previous night to secure tickets (which entailed almost shoulder-checking an elderly woman), and having to walk halfway across downtown and crossing streets, Frogger style. If you ever get the chance to see the man live, do so.

2. I've been planning my band's final show in December, which is very bittersweet. I've always loved booking and playing shows, so yay. But at the same time, the realization that this will be the final time playing with these guys is something weighing heavily in the back of my mind.

We've been together a long time. It will have been five years in February of '08. In terms of the local music scene, where the average band's life expectancy is less than a year, I think that alone is something to be proud of.

We haven't started full bore promoting the show yet, since it's over two months away. What we've done so far has been word of mouth, and already we're getting emails saying how sad people are we're breaking up. Some have said they were never really into heavy music until they heard us. One has said the reason he started playing music was because he saw us live. It's humbling, it really is.

3. I tend to space out a lot at work. Generally, when i space out my daydreams involve playing shows. Have I mentioned I love playing out? Anyway, when rocking the hell out in my head, I make the faces. I grimace musically, and I sneer, and often invoke a Billy Idol-esque lip curl.

Today I was daydreaming as usual, making the faces. I vaguely hear a co-worker say "Hey". She repeats again, with a little more volume, "Hey!"

I snap back into the now. "What?"

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You were making weird faces."

"It's ok, I was just being metal."

She's been giving me strange looks ever since.

To Quote Pantera: "It's Where You Come From".

While I like to think my tastes in music are many and broad, the meat and potatoes of my musical diet is the various flavors of metal.

Up until age 16 or so, I had no real music preferences of my own. I just sort of listened to whatever my parents and sister listened to. Mostly Bob Seger and Menudo. I love The Seger, but once can only hear Old Time Rock and Roll so many times before physical illness sets in.

Then, one day, a local high school started broadcasting an all-metal station out of their basement. Good old 88.9, V-Rock. It was awesome. To this day, it was the only place outside of my winamp playlists where I've been able to hear Sabbath, Gwar, and The Misfits played back to back. I heard bands on this station, became interested, then bought something by them. The station also played a lot of local music, which was what ultimately led me down the path of musicianship. This was back in the early Napster days, so that only added to my musical explorations.

Not only did V-Rock lead to the discovering new things, but there was something more profound among the listeners. Most of us were teenagers and in high school, going through all the bullshit teenagers go through. The more I look back on it, the more I realize there was very few of us who were in the "popular" crowds. We were all the outcasts, the weirdos...but we had V-Rock.

Maybe it was just a matter of teenage rebellion, or teenage angst, maybe it was the want to belong, or the desire for one's own sense of identity. Maybe it was all of the above. Maybe it was none of these things, and something else entirely. The fact of the matter remained; we had something to call our own. We had a community.

As time went on, the community only became tighter. Yes, there were cliques and some beefs, but those were in the minority. If we were driving down the street and saw someone on the sidewalk with a V-rock shirt, or a shirt for one of the local bands, we'd lean out the window, throw the horns and yell "V-ROCK! WHOOOOO!" to which the other person would throw the horns and respond with a "WHOOO!" of their own. It was silly, but sometimes it's the little things that get you through.

Something else: a large percentage of the programming was local bands. If you sent in yoour bands CD or demo, they'd play it. If you were 16, and playing your first show in some hole in the world dive bar, all you had to do was call the station and give them the particulars. They'd advertise for free on the air. Again, this only strengthened the community.

However, all good things come to an end, and V-Rock was no exception. Shortly after the shootings in Columbine, several of the local religious and parent groups suddenly became incensed that a high school was broadcasting such corrupting devil music from its basement. Why they hadn't taken umbrage in the time since the station's inception three years previous was anyone's guess.

Long story short, there was a lot of pressure put on the school board, and they caved. They gave the station a choice: a change in format, or go off the air. They chose the latter. The saga of a a tiny radio station in rural Ohio came to an end. The concerned citizens went back to snorting coke out of the ass cracks of altar boys, or whatever the hell it is they do on their high horses when they think no one is watching.

The school is once again broadcasting a radio station, with the same frequency and call letters, but it's "The Alternation" now, not V-Rock. Where once there was something different, there is now just more of the same old radio crap. It just isn't the same.

I learned a lot of things from our little band of headbanging, mosh-pitting brothers. I learned the value of a good friend. I learned what it really meant to give someone my word. I learned that sometimes, when the world piles insane amounts of shit on your shoulders, all you can do is give it the finger, drop your head, and fucking charge.

As I proofread this, I can't help but laugh. This was originally going to be about the albums which were my first forays into the heavy metal world. The V-Rock thing was supposed to just be a little footnote. The footnote then became a tangent, which then in turn became the whole topic. Funny how things work out sometimes.

I guess with all the things going on the past couple of weeks, I was feeling nostalgic. Pay no mind to my little trip down memory lane. :)

And now, a word from Bill Hicks

So, my band broke up, and i've been pretty depressed over it. Too depressed to really be motivated to write, anyway.

However, I came across this little gem by the late Bill Hicks, and I think he hits the nail on the head.

re: The score

All right, i'll admit it: i'm a music snob. I form entire opinions of people based solely on their musical likes/dislikes. I've ended relationships, lost friends, and offended co-workers, and slighted scores of others with my strong opinions of music.

I hate being a music snob, because I loathe snobbery in all its forms. I try not to be so judgemental, andI really am getting better. It's a process. Baby steps...

But, in my defense, I wouldn't have be such a snob if people didn't listen to such shit music.

I shall now offer a list of things that set me off, in bulleted form:

1. Pop Punk: If ever there were something to be a blasphemy in the eyes of the gods, it is the modern day, watered down, souless, gutless thing called "punk". In its heyday, punk was all about rebellion. It was about bucking the establishment, often with the purpose of enacting social change and awareness, but just as often it was about giving the proverbial middle finger to the man as a matter of principle. Fucking the man just because. Now it's being overproduced and mass marketed, and sold to overprivileged teenage yuppies. It's become the exact antithesis of what it used to be.
2. MTv: Do they even have music videos any more, or do they just run shit like Yo Momma 24/7?
3. Nickelback/Puddle of Mudd/Creed, etc: Henceforth known as Puddle of Nickelcreed, since they're all the same band anyway, right? It's like they're spawning out of the same god-awful, Clear-Channel friendly, post grunge hellhole. it's even worse when you realize almost every one of their vocalists have that same "hey I wanna sound like Eddie Vedder" thing going on. If you love any of these bands, and hate Pearl Jam, I'm telepatically beaming daggers into your eyes.
4. Not Knowing Your Roots: Now, this one is kind of a fine line. I think it's both unreasonable and outright impossible for a person to know every band or influence leading to their preferred genre. However, knowing some history is a must. If you call yourself a fan of metal, but don't know who Black Sabbath is, something is very wrong with you.
5. Kurt Cobain Woship: I will admit that Kurt Cobain was a fairly gifted musician, and his suicide was tragic. However, the messianic pedestal he's placed upon by critics and fans makes me sick. To hear them talk, Kobain was the only creative and influential person to ever set foot into a studio during our lifetime. What about Henry Rollins? Jello Biafra? Or, continuing with the theme of the deceased, "Dimebag" Darrel Abbot? Hell, what about Chuck Schuldiner? "But Tim," I hear you whining, "Schuldiner doesn't count. He played death metal". You're missing the point. There was no such thing as death metal before he showed up. He created a musical genre, Kobain pandered to teenage angst. Which one winds up getting the memorials?
6. Metallica: I'd tell them to call it quits and make their exit with dignity, but seeing Lars Ulrich cry his eyes out like he were on a low-budget daytime soap opera shot that idea all to hell. Seriously. STOP IT.
   

Mind you, this is in no way a complete list. There are myriad little things which will send me into a long-winded and profanity laden diatribe. I'll probably update this list as time goes on, but right now, I need a smoke.