30 sealed albums, 30 stupid days.
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General Zod
Ruler of Australia
Taake - ...Doedskvad
I always find it strange when a band will put out one album that I absolutely adore, but I can never really get into their other material. Of course, I rarely blame the artist for this, especially in a case like Taake, because it really is a ME thing and not their fault, much like that one failed relationship in high school where she left you because, as she claimed so seemingly sincere, "it's not you, it's me." Yes, sure it was baby. And that brings me to the album Nattestid... which I love beyond all hope and reason, yet their other albums never quite grabbed me, even if the quality and feel is right up there amongst that first glory.
Maybe it's just a chance occurrence that something will strike you just right and other similar items will pass you by without so much as a blink of notice. Women, alcohol, music, art, and anything else highly enjoyable on higher unexplainable planes can fall privy to such a foolishly ignored act. Oftentimes I think my first experience with a particular Thing (whatever it may be) is the greatest, simply because of the exciting newness of it all. This happens with music more frequently than with other Things, as when I hear something unique my excitement level is stalled at the penultimate at best upon further research outside the initial burst, even if the quality continues to climb above what came before. Maybe that explains the 2013 phenomenon of people who "never got into black metal" yet love that Deafhaven tripe: popped cherry syndrome.
Isn't that what it is all about though, a unique experience, ignorance be damned? I'm sure that many kids who grew up reading Harry Potter won't find the same level of new discovery if they delve deeper and consume all the glorious works of Tolkien. I myself read a William Morris book that Tolkien was highly influenced by, an author the master J.R.R. claimed to never best, but, while amazing, it held no great awe and wonder that The Lord of the Rings did for me. Well, I still haven't read the Kalevala, maybe I should reserve this alleged virginal judgment until that day comes. Baby steps indeed.
One can't always be a proper historian, sometimes you have to go with your gut feeling and enjoy that state for what it is. Not exclusively of course, but emotional satisfaction transcends all things when it comes to satiating what we feel most strongly in our center/gut/soul/life/existence/balls/face/toe. Maybe we're all just idiot teenagers yearning to relive our first successful masturbation encounter. Hey, this album is already better than ...Bjoergvin... to these ears, who knows what other revelations of similar origin might soon come to pass?
neal
wizard in black
Ellestin
one-click buy
Kingston Wall III - Tri-Logy
The compulsion to write is a vastly misunderstood phenomenon by someone such as myself. While I consider myself a creative person in that I must always be making something, this primarily translates into a musical form, or, shall we say, sound-based. I'm constantly crafting bass/noise of some sort, whether it be attempting to keep up with a group of talented bandmates, recording a third track for the fourth time on my fifth song of the week, or randomly plucking away haphazardly with an oscillating fuzz pedal alone in my studio. I understand this particular part of my persona, it is not an option to do such a thing, rather this is quite akin to breathing. Very few days of the year go by without me engaging myself upon bassdumb, as I simply could not exist without it.
My writing is vastly different. I have to be in the right mood, under unique conditions, and generally only after checking the tide/weather/moon reports before sitting down to push words from out my brain through mine bits of finger. I don't choose to play music constantly any more than I don't choose to write infrequently. Many years ago a friend of mine told me "don't fight it, feel it," and those are words I have to remind myself of whenever I find yet another bipolarizing decision flying in both directions within my skull. There simply is no other option, no matter how much I'll attempt to talk myself into or out of the proverbial it.
What this usually means is that anytime I start a writing project, it not only gets delayed by at least thrice my expected completion time, but frequently abandoned altogether. I have noticed that my writing output will increase drastically if I am not actively involved in a variety of bands, but since that is rarely the case, I continue to write incredibly sporadically. This goes into my theory that each person is granted a finite amount of creative energy and it is easy to use up if one isn't careful, unless of course one is gifted with an inordinate amount of said artistic chi. I am definitely not a member of this latter camp.
So what do I do? Well, this. I write. When I want to. When I need to. And no more. I don't rely on providing myself with food and shelter by typing out gobs of nonsense, and given the fact that it does happen so randomly would lead to more chaos in my existence that is already there, that is a good thing. So this whole mess becomes my fun creative contribution to the great whatever, something I can dole out whenever truly moved and without the driving need that unavoidable circumstance would provide. Although I do suppose that if I ever found myself starving to death and backed up against a (Kingston) wall, I could, perhaps quite literally, eat my words. If I had to.
Rwake - Hell is a Door to the Sun
Rwake are probably the reason why I gave up writing music reviews in any serious fashion. I absolutely loathed their album that was making the rounds during the heyday of Royal Carnage about a decade ago, even after giving it multiple shots from a variety of vantage points. It just didn't click, truly not my thing, and furthermore I wasn't interesting in discussing why I found it lacking. Flash forward 5 years and I discovered that Rwake released an album that will likely always be in my Top 50 Albums Ever list. It wasn't even vastly different from the one I loathed, but everything fell into place for me, for whatever reason. Proving once again that I'm completely full of shit. Whether I know it at the time is irrelevant, because surely, given enough spins of the planet, I'll certainly find out eventually.
All that being said, this album is not their best effort. Some of the lyrics are pretty cringe-worthy, and their music wasn't quite focused into what they would later become just yet. Not bad of course, if you're into this type of doomed and drugged melodic sludge, but far from essential like their future albums. And that's just fine, I'm still glad that I picked it up, if anything but for a history lesson on what I consider to be a pivotal band in my love/hate cycle of musical enjoyment. Never have I shunned and then later adored a band quite like Rwake, in all my years of being a fan of things heavy.
So why do we like what we do? I know when music, art, film, or literature speaks to me, and move my emotions in ways that make life worth living, but explaining the how is something else entirely. The personal nature of artistic enjoyment has lead me to abandon not only writing music reviews myself, but reading them from even a formerly trusted source. To be sure, there is some collective wisdom in the truly great works, but that does not mean that everyone will enjoy them, even members of the alleged target audience. This kind of thing is infinitely personal, and to justify, explain, or debate one's opinion unto another is quite the fleeting venture.
That is not to say that critique is not without merit of course, in fact some reviews are better than the very subject at hand, which brings new meaning to the great creative circle of it all. And, hell, some of the best things in life are fleeting ventures, so these words are not intended as any form of insult. I consider myself a positive nihilist in the belief that since nothing has any meaning, therefore simply by argument, everything is of equal value. And we can assign whatever amount to whichever thing is the topic of discussion however we shall choose. See? Told you I was full of shit.
Dick Sirloin
please... stay safe
- Jan 6, 2004
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You're right, man. Writing is hard. It's all about sitting your ass in that chair and doing it. Gets easier if you're in a routine. Like exercising.
Very much this. Approaching it like a workout plan with goals and making sure you're doing it with that regularity is seriously one of best ways to be consistent.
Okay so, I finished this project awhile ago, but never posted them. Two reasons:
1) I think the last ones kinda suck. My writing, not the albums.
2) The internet is fucking weird now. Isn't it fucking weird now?
But, fuckit, buttfuck it, etc., I am trying to motivate myself back into writing so here are the final 7. The dates are little funky, starting in October 2016 and then disappearing for awhile, before abruptly finishing one night in July of 2020. 30 days spread across nearly 8 years. Good job, procrastination. And just for similar old school kicks:
NP: Unholy - Gracefallen
1) I think the last ones kinda suck. My writing, not the albums.
2) The internet is fucking weird now. Isn't it fucking weird now?
But, fuckit, buttfuck it, etc., I am trying to motivate myself back into writing so here are the final 7. The dates are little funky, starting in October 2016 and then disappearing for awhile, before abruptly finishing one night in July of 2020. 30 days spread across nearly 8 years. Good job, procrastination. And just for similar old school kicks:
NP: Unholy - Gracefallen
(Originally written in October 2016, maybe)
Woods of Ypres - Woods 4: The Green Album
Nasty, cruel, brutish, and short. I never remember if I get the exact phrase from Hobbes correctly, but when discussing something as shocking as unexpected death, semantics don't amount to much really. Such was the case for David Gold, a stalwart of the underground metal scene, and, by all accounts, a good dude indeed. I never knew him well, but I admired his work, and all of my brief communications with him back in the early Royal Carnage days were good.
I am reminded of this occasion because another such good dude died just yesterday, quite unexpectedly, and it has left a small but select group of mourners in the wake. Tim Cloonan left this plane of existence and his blunt, yet sound, honesty will be missed. Again, I didn't know him well, but he was a regular source of inspiration in the daily battle against The Stupid. If you knew him, even a little bit, you'd understand.
I don't feel quite like the Intro To Philosophy student that I did during that brief era that was my entire twentysomethings, but one thing that has held is that there is no meaning to any of this life crap beyond grasping hold of what little good moments that we can. On good days, such little good moments might add up to hours upon hours. On bad days, it may feel as if no good moments are left for us to know. Or maybe I'm just manic depressive with teenaged black/white myopia, who really knows?
(October 2016...)
Averse Concept - Symbol of Loss
I was asked to join this band at one point, but it didn't quite work out. Not entirely dissimilar to my 30 Day writing project here, which, technically, has now expanded to almost 4 years. It just didn't really go down as planned, for no reason whatsoever. What has happened in that time frame? I joined another band, recorded an album that received high praise from JayKeeley (along with 4 other people), bought a house, bought a Jeep, and even had sex... twice! So while this project still trudges along, very sporadically, life keeps going.
I do still have my doubts about US black metal though, to be quite honest. Maybe I'm just so fucking olde worldly that I expect regional borders to still exist when it comes to art, or perhaps I've just always hated communism, no matter how left-wing I've become over the years. We're supposed to celebrate and enjoy our differences, not mold into one disgusting homogeneous blob doing nothing but drink weak tea and quietly masturbate at regularly scheduled intervals. I'm a unique snowflake, god dammit! BUILD A WALL.
(...July 2020!)
I wrote those first two paragraphs 4 years ago apparently, and my whole "thing" with this Thing is to have a third paragraph most of the time, so here it is in all its triplet glory. That band of mine have since released another album, which JayK didn't like as much as our previous one, ha. Although on a personal level I think it's the closest I ever got to being happy with my own work. So after that album cycle ran its course (does it count as touring if you play the same shitty bars within a 50 mile radius?), I did the only logical next step for the group: I quit.
Blut Aus Nord - 777 - Sect(s)
The Work Which Transfigures Goat remains a very important album to me, even if I haven't listened to it much for many years now. That one came out back in the glory days of Royal Carnage if I recall correctly, which I probably don't due to all the rampant alcohol consumption in said days of yore. One night back then, I spent an evening in the middle of nowhere flying down unfamiliar empty roads above 120mph in my new fast ride, and the eerie mood of that album combined with foolish behavior of my 25 year old self is an experience I'll never forget. Possibly because I was sober at the time for a change.
Conversely, I have listened to this 777 album multiple times over the past several years, and can never remember anything about it. At all. It is the only other Blut Aus Nord album I own, although I did hear Odinist a few times at some point. What's the point? Well, sometimes some of my favorite albums are created by bands that I otherwise don't seem to care about. I'm not sure how or why that happens, but I find it entertaining, and in stark contrast to my usual Collect 'Em All ways with bands that I adore.
Oh, and I no longer own a fast car. I'm old and boring now. But I'm still a lousy drunk.
Everyman of Parts - Travelling Time
Some dude gave me this album at NAMM one year. I think he made it, but I am not entirely sure. I could probably click over to my browser window and look it up in about 3 seconds, but who has that kind of time? Oh. I do. "Everyman of Parts is on indefinite hiatus and so there are no upcoming dates." So much for that. Anyhow I have no idea what the album sounds like and I'm not sure where it is currently located in my CD collection (which is funny given that it's alphabetized and surely easily found), so I'm going to talk about NAMM instead.
I lucked my way into a job that I enjoy, for just about per capita income, that allows me to live in a modest house in a modest neighborhood (which is all you need). Part of said job is attending the NAMM show every year in Anaheim right by Disneyland. Just imagine 4 days of the world's biggest Guitar Center complete with 120,000 people, because that is essentially what it is. Now imagine the men's bathrooms on day 4, and yes, it gets pretty bad. I have worked the last 10 years to some extent at that show, and now that we are in The Days of Covid, I will not be going for the 11th year.
Kind of a bummer. I always referred to that week as the most exhausting and rewarding experience each year. Although I suppose if I'm still alive come January 2021 when the show must go on (if they don't cancel it), I'll be fortunate enough to still be breathing.
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Will Ackerman - Returning
Dad gave me this album, he got really into solo acoustic music for a spell there. Can't say I really enjoyed this one, but I only listened to it once. I did like the Michael Hedges type stuff he played me, the guys that sound like they are attacking their acoustics appeals to me. Enough with the light chord strums, give me some wood-based rage/emotion instead please.
Anyhow, that dude died a few years ago. Not Will Ackerman (well maybe him too, I have no idea), me Da. Kind of happened suddenly and with some unresolved beef between the two of us so that made me a bit of an emotional being for a bit there. I caused a minor scene at his funeral, something I remain quite proud of to be quite honest. And given that his motto in life was "love me or hate me, just as long as you have a strong opinion," I figured that was a good tribute to the old bastard.
Funny how after 6 months or so, the anger went away. He and I had resolved a lot of our problems of Father v. Son by the time he kicked off, so there wasn't a whole lot left to go over I suppose. So that part helped, we became mostly friends after I turned 30. Mostly. Now I just miss the guy. That's a good feeling, even when it hurts.
Voivod - Killing Technology
This band reminds me of lurch anytime I think of them. I still think I should love them, but dammit, I just can't seem to get into them really. This is the only album I have of theirs, and I'm still waiting for the Moment when it happens. I'm sure that if/when that it does I'll madly grab several more releases and say ZOMG WHY DIDN'T I LOVE YOU 15 YEARS AGO.
This is one more reason I still prefer physical media to all the bullshit that modernity offers us. I say bullshit in a loving way, all the access to music at any moment from a variety of places is great. I guess. But, when I own a physical release, it will confront me. If I love an album I will listen to it, but if I don't, I can put it on the shelf and it will occasionally look at me from across the room, challenging me for another go to see if it speaks to me yet.
Mar de Grises did that to me, I hated that shit for years before finally, one day, it all fell into the right place. Same thing happened with Amorphis, although with them I sold the only two albums I owned as I mocked everyone for ever enjoying a single note they played. Random whim struck me 10 years later and I bought one album I previously owned, and fell madly in love with everything they have ever done. Absolutely one of my favorite bands ever now, stupid boy.
Same reason I like books. I'll buy/inherit/find a book and oftentimes, most of the times really, it will sit in my library for 5, 10, or 20 years before I get around to it. But I do get there, eventually. The physical presence of such things makes me respect them more than some file on an iDevice ever could. I'm currently reading a 14 volume saga that I initially bought the first book from 23 years ago. I finally fell in love 22 years later. Thank you, mass market paperback!
Burden Brothers - Buried in your Black Heart
I don't have much to say about this band, because I don't know them very well, even though I own two of their albums. The reason for that is because of my adoration of The Toadies, and this band sort of came between the breakup/reformation of that group. Burden Brothers are far less interesting, so I don't listen to them much at all. But I have a few amazing memories tied to them anyhow.
One such memory is about a woman I dated years ago that worked nights. I would go over to her apartment before she went to work, and after she'd head out I'd get absolutely hammered at her place watching cable TV on her big screen (I had neither one at the time). She'd come home early in the morning and I'd still be there, so then we could do whatever it is we did back then. Her, and me, and my hangover.
One night I ended up with some sort of coffee stout, so instead of passing out I got more and more awake as I also got more and more drunk. I ended up watching Natural Born Killers for the first and only time, then going through the music stations that were on cable, something new at the time. Or new to me at least, given that I still have never paid for cable myself. At some point the Burden Brothers came on. I said "holy shit that sounds like the Toadies dude?!" which I later found out, yes, that was the Toadies dude, dude.
This is my fondest memory of her apartment, and it has absolutely nothing to do with the woman I had been with for three years at that point. What the fuck is wrong with me?
Krilons Resa
Jerry's married?!
