The opening of Dangers new album “Messy, Isn’t It?” is the track “Stay-At-Home Mom“.  It paints a picture of a mother that has “served her purpose” in the world:  she’s birthed a child, raised it, and now he no longer needs her.  The song screams the question, “Why didn’t you kill yourself today?”  Lemme explain further before you shoot the judging eye at me or the band.

“What cross, what coupon, what cathode ray
Put the joie de vivre in your diseased heart?”

Even though I got beef with the French, the use of it in this song sprinkles some beauty (yeah, it can “sound” pretty every once in a while) over exclamations of anger and distaste.  ”Keen or buoyant enjoyment of life” is what “joie de vivre” translates to and that lovely question is proposed because this “mosh pit son” – us stupid kids – have ruined this woman.  Someone who had near limitless options to what could happen in their life, one option stole them all away: a child.

“See, I know your children
Because I’ve been your children
And us children, hopeful children
Ain’t worth the stretch marks baby.
‘Cause we may sing these songs of protest,
Cast our ballots, too
Forgo meat and
Ride our bikes and
Get our band’s stupid tattoo
But it means nothing,
Nothing,
When we get eaten by the sun.”

We’re fucked and it’s as simple as that.  Our planet is falling apart from the inside out and we’ve pretty much set out our lawn chairs to watch it all happen in comfort with a tepid can of Bud Light in hand.  As children are snatched away from their families, force fed drugs, and told to kill the enemy with an AK-47, we’re Tivo’ing a whole season of Top Chef.  In no way are we trying to fix the problems of the world, so why waste time with reproducing when there’s going to be no world worth living in very shortly?  Why should a woman throw her body and dreams away for a child that’s going to eventually stop loving her in a world that’s going to end?  Bleak, huh?

“So what’s wrong
With a song
That asks wherefore and why have you lived this long?
A purpose?
You want a reason?
Stop believing.
Or stop needing the answers.
There are no answers
Except the sun, the sun, the sun.
While you sit on your couch
And wait up for your boy
We’re polluting his mind with this
(noise).”

This is where we get the answer to the problem.  The problem is the answer and the vicious cycle continues.  Dangers isn’t one of those bands that is trying to entertain, even though they do a damn good job of it.  They got moralistic stories to tell and a satchel full of messages that they want you to hear.  As Earth turns to shit with the young and old caring a little less every day, some of this “noise” that our parents, teachers, and neighbors pulled the plug on year after year is just trying to help.

“Stay-At-Home Mom” spouts out all these reasons to give up on this, this, or that, whether they be for selfish means or for the better good.  Hopefully what the listener can take away from that is a sense of mild disgust, so as to avoid allowing ideas like that to flourish.  This song is nothing more than a giant PSA to the masses.  Parents:  don’t let your dreams or what makes you happy disappear due to a child, yet don’t take away something from your children that you may not understand, instead learn about it because it may be something positive.  Kids:  if you’re involved in something that is trying to do good in the world, simply learning all the lyrics to a song and buying band merch ain’t gonna cut it; take those lyrics you learned to heart and physically attempt to change things for the better.  Holy shit… I just got deep.  That’s a weird feeling.

A few years ago was when I first listened to the demo Dangers put out that was floating around in the hardcore scene.  I don’t remember how I got it, but after hearing songs like “We Broke The P.A.” and “We Have More Sense Than Lies” I was head over heels.  They were one of those bands that halfway through the first song I knew I was gonna like them.  There’s only been a handful of acts that have done that for me like At The Drive-In and The Murder City Devils, which are two of my all-time favorite bands.  Now that was summer of ‘06, so I’ve only had a demo, EP, and LP to sate me until this one coming out the first of the new year.  Goes to show that they’re doing something right.

Now, I didn’t expect to delve so much into just one song.  I was hoping to do a semi-review of the new album, but that obviously veered off the road to somewhere else.  Instead I’ll give some quick recommendations on tracks of theirs to check out, so hopefully you’ll be wanting to pick this puppy up in 2010 from Vitriol Records.

Saved By The Buoyancy Of Citrus:  A quick little number that’s fed up with rent checks and getting older just as much as you are.  It’s also a tip of the hat to Mitch Hedberg

Check, Please:  It questions love and slings some hate at the bullshit that can be dating.

“‘You clean up nice,’
she says to me with this
smug ass grin that means
she knows just how much
porn that it takes to get me off nowadays.”

It’s lyrics like that set this band apart from all the garbage that sullies the airwaves.

Goliath:  Al Brown (lead singer) willing to believe in Jesus if he could only be presented his skeletal remains.  This one makes me laugh.

No Vonneguts, No Glory:  An anti-war track that pleads for peace, but until that happens we’re better off taking cues from Kurt Vonnegut and turning the world to ice via Ice-9 (read Cat’s Cradle).

Well, today is this kids birfday, so do me favor and listen to the new Dangers, call somebody stupid, and buy me stuff.

a few more from the show

was the date of a show featuring Emery, August Burns Red, and Underoath.

Another thing. The hardcore gig scene has changed so much. Even just going to see Bishop opened my eye to really how bad things have gotten. What is all this head banging?! Your not at Metallica…

Recently a few friends went to see Confession. I only heard bad things like ‘band played crap, the kid’s at gigs suck, sick of people being idiots, too many metalheads and goths etc etc’

Not only that but kids doing drugs at straight edge gigs. I don’t get it. Show some respect and put that white power away… not up your snoz.

I don’t know what’s happened but things just arn’t as good as what they used to be. This saddens me.

generic metal band playing at a bar has a two girl pit going until these lovely ladies decide they don’t like each other.

Rise Against are without a doubt the most-listened to artist in my huge directory of music during the last three or four years. After accidentally stumbling across their song ‘Give it All’ as the backing to a skateboarding compilation video on YouTube sometime in early 2006, I have since developed quite a fascination for their Melodic, Hardcore sound.

Last night, in Manchester, I got to witness them live. To say they didn’t disappoint me would be a vast understatement. They totally blew the place apart, covering a wide range of new and old songs from they impressive discography. My personal favourite was the live rendition of ‘Paper Wings’, from the album ‘Siren Song of the Counter Culture’.

The crowd, too, was very impressive. Even before the main attraction hit the stage they were forming full-circle mosh pits to the [CD] sound of Rage Against The Machine. Bodies of all sizes were jumping into one another and then been tossed to the front of the stage by a barrage of hands. Shoes were catapulted across the room and into people’s faces (including my own, which provoked a sudden rush of blood from my nose); the security guards even broke out the hose pipes and began rehydrating the audience with water because the kinetic heat got so intense.

All night, I was striving to get a few photos of the event, but because of how jam-packed the arena was with bouncing bodies, I was unsuccessful. However, when Rise performed their two ’slower songs’, I did manage to record a few minutes of video. You can view ‘Swing Life Away’ and ‘Hero of War’ below:

(Snippet of Rage Against The Machine mosh pit forming prior to Rise entering the stage.)

Simply put, it was a truly awesome night — one that I definitely won’t be forgetting any time soon.

Setlist:

1. Collapse (Post-Amerika)
2. State of the Union
3. Re-Education (Through Labor)
4. Paper Wings
5. Long Forgotten Sons
6. The Good Left Undone
7. Chamber the Cartridge
8. Drones
9. The Dirt Whispered
10. Audience of One
11. Blood to Bleed
12. Savior
13. Survive
14. Blood-Red White And Blue
15. Prayer of the Refugee

Encore:
16. Swing Life Away
17. Hero of War

Encore 2:
18. Dancing for Rain
19. Give it All
20. Ready to Fall

From Dan Deacon

1 of 5: about a week ago i started to feel a rather uncomfortable pain in the back of my left leg. at first it was only present when i was sitting but as time went on it started to get more and more painful when standing and eventually it hurt at all times, even when laying down.

2 of 5: on wednesday evening the pain had come to a peak and it was impossible to bear and it was frightening, since i had no idea why this was happening. everyone i told about it said it sounded like bad Sciatica. anyway, it sucked major dick. i went to see a massage therapist and an acupuncturist. i tried booking an appointment with a chiropractor but none were available in Northampton, MA on short notice.

3 of 5: the massage and acupuncture offered relief but within hours the pain came back and to a level i hadn’t reached yet. i bit the bullet and went to the ER, not knowing where else to go. they gave me some pain killers which helped to bring down the level of the throb. it was a bummer way to end a really awesome tour. everything was going really well and it was one of the most fun tours i had been on.

4 of 5: i’m sure my back/leg will be back to normal soon after getting it properly checked out, working it out and getting some much needed rest. hopefully the 5 shows will be rescheduled ASAP.i’ve been touring pretty nonstop for a long time now and that’s going to change. before spiderman of the rings came out i was taking much better care of my body and i wasn’t touring as much.

5 of 5: i need to focus more on my health, which will lead to a clearer mind and a more focused music. i’m excited about the future and the various paths that are being presented ahead of me. i’m not sure what the future will bring but hopefully i’ll see you there.

I have huge hopes for Dan Deacon. The music of Dan Deacon is amazing, but his performance is outrageous. Check this out

Everyone join the human spiral! This must be the next best thing after a mosh pit. Any musician able to move everyone in the crowd is god worthy. So please get well Dan Deacon!

This afternoon I’m headed to Austin City Music Hall to see one of my favorite bands, Mastodon, play by what all accounts should be a killer live show.  Not only will Atlanta’s premier prog-metal outfit be tearing it up, but they’ll also be supported by three eclectic yet undeniably appropriate and hard-hitting acts – High on Fire (whose sludgy galloping stoner-metal bludgeoning will kick off the proceedings), Converge (hardcore’s reigning princes of technically creative musical brutality) and Dethklok (the surprisingly proficient death-metal parody group from TV’s ‘Metalocalypse’).

A ridiculous lineup for the king of metal tours.

I can’t begin to describe to you how excited I am about this show – I’ve had my ticket for 2 months now.  Mastodon’s ‘Crack the Skye’ is by far one of my favorite albums of 2009, as is Converge’s latest, ‘Axe To Fall.’  Hearing and seeing songs from both of those albums played live…oh man.  Are you starting to get the picture?

I’ll try to retain as much info as possible so that I can give a full rundown tomorrow after the show (perhaps even with pictures) – I can promise in advance that it’s going to be the most intense, most brutal, and most metal experience this writer has enjoyed to date.

Skillet did, as advertised, rock my face off.

It’s going to be a little difficult blogging without a face, I’ll admit, but it’s a small price to pay for last night’s totally staggering concert!

Skillet has been one of our favorite bands for a long time, so when my good friend Alyson told us they were coming to Spokane, we ran right out and bought tickets, even though the concert was still six months away!  That gave us just enough time to find a sitter who didn’t mind watching the kids for the eight hours it takes to drive to Spokane, stand in line, find good seats, and jump up and down to four hours of pure, unadulterated awesome.

Our friend Amy came with us, and while standing in line we bumped into another friend, Carrie, who was there with her daughter.    Here’s Paul waiting patiently with the other Panheads for the doors to open:

Skillet headlined the Awake and Alive Tour (named after a song on their new album), but they shared the stage with three other bands: The Letter Black, Decyfer Down, and Hawk Nelson.  I’d never heard of The Letter Black; they opened the show with a fifteen minute set that thoroughly tested out the power of the amps scattered around the auditorium and showed off the athleticism of the very spunky lead singer, Sarah Anthony (in fact, Paul leaned over to me about halfway through their first song to inform me that he was pretty sure the petite vocalist with the Sarah Connor muscles could kick his butt.)

Decyfer Down was up next, and I was almost as excited for their performance as for Skillet’s.  After rocking one of my favorite songs, “Ride With Me”, frontman TJ Harris dialed it back from the edge a bit with an acoustic rendition of “Best I Can” that showed off his grit-and-honey voice in a way that the album recording doesn’t quite do it.  I wish they had played longer.

Hawk Nelson was a fun surprise for me.  We don’t own any of their CDs, and their upbeat, pop punk style makes them, as their lead singer puts it, sort of the “odd band out” of the tour, but their showmanship was amazing. Right around the time I found myself belting out “Friend Like That”, I realized that I knew a lot of their songs from the radio.  They played for about an hour, skillfully working the crowd into a finely tuned frenzy before clearing the stage to make way for the biggest set of the night.  It took several minutes for the tech crew to set up the pyrotechnics and hydraulics; the vibration of three thousand people bathed in anticipation was nearly tangible.

And then, at last, it was time.

Skillet!

They were amazing!

Okay, “amazing” doesn’t really cut it, but I don’t have enough ten cent words or exclamation points to put you in my seat as the whole auditorium thrummed and shook with the thunder of heart-rending guitar riffs and three thousand people sang together at the top of our lungs, beating the air with a single wild thought.  My barbaric yawp was lost in the glorious noise and all of us were dancing, jumping, fists pumping to the throbbing, relentless rhythm of the drumbeat that went on and on.

I can’t describe how it felt to stand in that press of humanity, all praising God with passion and abandon.  In between songs, artists shared their faith, their stories of struggle, their victories in Jesus Christ–and in the audience, we roared our agreement and approval.  It was a night of declaration.

I took some video on my iPhone, but that poor little microphone didn’t stand a chance against the wave of bass that washed over everything, so it didn’t turn out.  As soon as I got home, I looked everywhere on YouTube for a clip of the beginning of “Comatose”, because I just had to show you the violinist.  In case you didn’t get the memo: the violin is officially an instrument of ROCK!  This video was shot by someone in the audience the night before our concert.  It’s a little shaky, but you’ll get the idea.  Watch the violinist; he was an animal!

The crowd went wild (of course), there was an encore (of course), and none of my favorites was left unsung.  When the last note of the last song finally sounded, I was hot, sweaty, deaf, and completely exhausted, with a crick in my neck to remind me that headbangers over thirty should probably consider taking it a little easier on the upswing.  Wrung out and happy, we poured ourselves into the car, turned up the radio, and made our way back to Coeur d’Alene.

We didn’t get home until well after midnight (picking up the sleeping kiddos from Grandpa & Grandma’s house on our way), but even at that late hour, it was hard to get to sleep with all that adrenaline still coursing around in my veins.  I woke up this morning with last night’s songs still ringing in my ears, and wished devoutly that I could go out tonight and do it all over again.

I guess I’ll just have to content myself with John Cooper’s promise to come back to Spokane on their next tour.  He said that next time they’d book the Arena.  Good move.  That will give us a lot more dancing room.

With it being ‘Rocktober’ this month I thought I would take a moment out to pay homage to true rock icon; one that’s been on stage at every concert, up front at every ticket queue, trampled on in every moshpit and puked on in the parking lot afterwards. I’m talking about Chuck Taylor’s legendary All-Stars.

I would like to pretend (for Peter Anderson’s sake) that my All-Stars got in their current state from walking and basking in nature like some Romantic but quite frankly I’m not all that partial to the country or outdoors. For just over two decades now its appeal’s been lost on me, and I was quite glad to hear his tail of disillusion with nature the other day in what he referred to as the ‘Kennellands’ just outside Cape Town.

Once, thanks to some really poor directions from a realtor I accidently ventured up what turned out to be Devil’s Peak while looking for a flat. It was quite something to behold, almost sublime, but once it starting raining the trail became rather treacherous and with All-Stars’ limited grip the path down turned into a big orange, gravel laden ‘Slip and Slide’. That’s pretty much the only nature tail these shoes have to tell. The rest all involve running to Jammie stops or classes and frequently bursting into them in a Cosmo Kramer fashion a few minutes late. As well as skidding across sticky club floors and tip-toeing around overflowing men’s rooms.

I’m getting ahead of myself though. I remember when I bought my first pair about two years ago back in East London, they were a mere R260 then compared to the exorbitant R500 they are now. The store manager didn’t have any size tens or the nines I was willing to squeeze into. He reckoned they were a fad that would soon pass, and then tried to pawn a pair of Jack Purcells off on me. About 750 million units in worldwide sales and a month later my ‘clown sized’ pair arrived and I was on my way –or so I thought. There was quite a learning curve; my fallen arches made walking a fair distance quite an ordeal and after the first wash the red trim on my white pair bled out; for a while I walked around town in pair of sneakers that under the wrong light seemed pink. There’s also the weird discolouration my black pair suffered after their first wash, I’m still not too sure what to call their current shade, definitely not black though, maybe bog.

Nevertheless, like most varsity and some private school students my All-Stars have remained a uniform staple for me, which is odd considering that you could probably buy a pair in the odd shades mine now bare. Although they were first produced in 1917 All-Stars were only available in black and white till 1966, nowadays though they are available in several core colours, seasonal colours, and a variety of print styles. Despite all this I’ve seen various takes on All-Star customization including but not limited to writing, doodles, graffiti, mismatched laces and even mismatched shoes. As well a few who cut away, or just step on the heel to turn them into loafers.

I guess there’s a huge hipster, emo kid and rocker debt to Chuck Taylor, the shoes first endorser and others who revived their popularity in the 50’s 70’s and 90’s like The Ramones and Kurt Cobain, who funnily enough also popularised Doc Martins, another shoe brand attempting a comeback at the moment. I wouldn’t advise getting a pair just yet though; they require a great deal of lacing up and tend to fall off your feet if you don’t, probably best to hold out for something else or wait for them to release some with a Velcro strap or something. I myself am planning on buying a pair of Nike Cortez next.

This trailer for a documentary about cat ladies is scary enough, I don’t think I could make it through the whole movie. As a kid, I didn’t like cats, mostly due to having a strong allergic reaction to their presence. I am not better around cats, but seeing a house with them everywhere gives me the heebie jeebies. It makes me worry they will go evil and eat their owner. That nearly happens in this video:

Today I was following a concert blog from here and found out that the mighty Agnostic Front is coming back for more here in Lima Peru. But this time Roger Miret won’t come alone, he will come with his half-brother’s band Madball, the 2 biggest bands in Hardcore Punk/Oi! I remember the first time I saw them live, it was an enormous mosh pit that threatened to destroy the disco where the concert was taking place. So for this special moment, in the Inf. category I give you my 2 favorite songs from Agnostic Front: Gotta Go & For My Family

So a lot has happened since we last talked. Yeah, been so busy that I haven’t had the time to sit down and type up a blog….

So Friday, my Dad got into a fight with his boss about policy and his boss told him he was fired. He told me by Monday. (I thought he just got off early and took Monday off). Which sucks. I admit I was really scared and was already coming up with all the ways we could help my Dad out… especially in staying where we live now. By Thursday his work called him up and told him to come to a meeting and said that he’d better come or he was really fired. (Ordinarily Dad wouldn’t even be freaked out because he has 28 years seniority… heck the CEO was hired the same time… he could literally have any job in the place)

So he came and he got his job back… unfortunately he’s not getting paid vacation for those 4 and 1/2 days that he wasn’t there…. So there goes school fees and such… if you don’t realize the extent of missing a week… it means that My Dad gets at least $700 less dollars… So it’s going to be tight…. but much better than it could’ve been I’m happy.

This experience has really taught me something… (more than to make sure that I have more than 6 months pay saved up just in case I ever get fired in the middle of a crappy economy) It’s taught me that I need to trust in the universe. I’ve been talking about all the possibilities I have and how I haven’t gone for any of them (besides writing). Fact of the matter is, I just need to get out there in the world…. and than I’ll find out what I’ll do when I get there.

With every oppression comes the ability of freedom, with every freedom comes choices, with choices come the world.

I’m not claiming that I’m an expert on oppression or anything. I just have to let  you folks know something about my past. That may help you realize how I could understand this stuff. 

I had a mom that was deadset on a stepford family… and decided to use less than kosher means to achieve it. Fact is: I was beaten as a child.

I learned lessons about life that many people will never learn. I learned diplomacy and patience through these crazy happenings. But I also learned, that with every that opresses comes with something to undo it.

I had an awesome Dad… I didn’t know him until after my mother left… mostly because she insisted on doing the finances and was stealing money from my father… enough that she convinced my Dad that he needed to work 2 full-time jobs… He only had 6 hours a day and those were for sleep…. I admit that I put more weight on my Dad than I have ever put on a person.

He was the key, he could get us away from my mother… he was going to save us. (Realize that at the time I knew nothing about him… except that when I was having growing pains he’d let me sleep in their room.) He had to.

So we took a chance… when they were trying to settle the divorce after my mother had claimed that my father had beaten her…. Ironic isn’t that? We testified… well my older brother testified because he was the only one who was legally old enough to testify…  but we testified against her and hoped that the system would allow us to be set free.

My mother was oddly sweet during that time… sucking up to us. My Dad (although he was kicked out and wasn’t allowed to see us… I later found out, that he was sending my mother money to pay for all of the bills… to make sure that we got taken care of) was also nice… but a legitimate niceness… the kind where it’s literally just because the person is only nice because they’re that good of a person. We were put into fantastic hands.

But the point is, we were oppressed. (I do realize that some kids must have had worse childhoods than we did… and I sincerely pity the heck out of those kids because… although I got it through the last time and was even optimistic after… I don’t think I could do it ever again and come out whole… much less if it were worse.) and we were given a key that would free us… if we just used it. (There’s something weird about being abused… you’re embarrassed about it… and cops never believe children… that’s one thing that I know for sure now.) We were allowed to choose my Father, who luckily was awesome… I don’t know what we would’ve done if he sucked too. Probably go to an Aunt or to our Grandma.

Anyways you can trust in the universe to give you something to achieve anything that maybe related to your happiness. So go out and do something! I promise you, there is a way to anything that you are meant to do. You can always decide on the meaning of your life.

Wow, that blog went into an entirely different direction than I was hoping.

So I was busy with worrying and changing my philosophies and such to post a blog.

Not to mention Warped Tour which although we had to leave before bouncing souls (who had came to our town afterall) it was awesome. I met Big D and the Kids’ table… all of them really down to earth and we got to talk to them and they gave us their autographs. Their show was by far, the best of the day. I went into the ginormous skanking pit. So much fun. They played most of my favorite songs, “LAX, Shining On, Hell on Earth, Noise Complain…etc”. I did not get hurt one little bit… or even fall in the mosh pits (which I admit I was a bit afraid of) unfortunately I was too shy to ask the singer something that I’ve been wondering for a while… if he had ever been in drama because he sure acts like it. But anyways… it was awesome… I did get another sunburn… I really ought to just avoid the sun before I get skin cancer. BTW: Bathing your sunburn in Vingar… makes it go away stat.

I babysat the night before until like 1 a.m…. hadn’t slept the night before that.. and woke up at 7:30… (Because if we didn’t come on time we wouldn’t get in for free) and bought a Big D Patch, Micky Ds (Because we had vendor passes and could leave anytime we wanted and come back) and a shirt (Skate 4 Cancer… it was a cool shirt and I thought it was a good cause) for $10. Not half bad, eh? But yeah, by the end… although I was loving it… I was tired, thirsty, sunburned, and my arms really hurt. Can I just say I didn’t believe anything about musicians drinking a butt load? I do now… we got this one sack of glass bottles (luckily it was a heavy duty bag) and I had to carry it across the fairgrounds and I think moving a body would’ve been easier.. it was only from one band too. I definitely got some new muscles because of it.

I’ve also babysat a buttload in the past little while… (Especially considering that I have like $50 and on average only get 10 bucks)

But yeah, it’s been super swell. Don’t forget that the universe will take care of you, if you take the chances it gives you.

Yours Truly,
♥Aspiringtobesomeone

Click here.

In May, I went to an all-day outdoor concert festival featuring a bunch of popular rock bands.  I had only gone to the concert to see the headlining band, but I decided since I paid what I paid for the ticket (which was good for all-day) that, what the hell: I’ll check out the other bands.  Who knows–I could be surprised.

Surprised, I was.  But not in a good way.

I have an odd personal connection with music.  Being an amateur musician myself, I have a deep appreciation for music that obviously takes a lot of musical talent and ability to perform.  That explains my love for progressive rock and heavy metal.  Lyrically and musically, it contains some of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard, and it’s not the kind of thing that any average person could just replicate easily.  Say what you will about the band Dream Theater, damn near nobody can play that stuff except for the guys who wrote it.

However, in addition to my connection with what I’d consider, “real music,” I can also develop a superficial appreciation for music that has little actual artistic depth.  I am perfectly content playing Rush in my room late at night as I write, just as I am perfectly content blasting Godsmack from my car on the interstate.  I believe I have enough personal integrity that I can at least afford a smidgen of banality every once in a while, and take it in for the mindless entertainment it is.  Nothing wrong with that, in my opinion.

Lines must be drawn, though, and such a line was drawn when, at this concert, I was treated to an hour-long set by a band named Boys Like Girls.  Below is the link to their MySpace Music profile:

http://www.myspace.com/boyslikegirls

Boys Like Girls is, by far and away, the shittiest band my ears have ever had the disdain of hearing.  To specify: I didn’t listen to it; I HEARD it.  There IS a difference–listening is voluntary; hearing isn’t.  I wish on my grave that I could un-hear what I heard, but that is physically impossible.

They are a pop-punk band to the worst degree.  Take My Chemical Romance, subtract all of the Queen influence, add a Pac Sun wardrobe, and multiply by autism: there you have Boys Like Girls.  Let me give you an idea of how much I hate this band.

I hate Nickelback.  I really hate them.  I wouldn’t be caught dead with one of their albums in my possession, or even one of their songs on my iPod.  That is no exaggeration.  I don’t listen to radio anymore because of them.  They are the posterchild for everything that is truly wrong with all of modern music, and the fact that they will not go away makes me hate them even more.  I wouldn’t even download their music illegally.

But Boys Like Girls?  I hate them so much that I WOULD download their music illegally, just so I could listen to it and FUCKING SEETHE WITH ANIMOSITY while it plays.  That’s a whole new pantheon of hate.  It’s almost musical sadism.

At the concert, I knew they were going to be bad before they even started playing, because at the very beginning of their set, the lead singer came out to center stage and shouted, “HEY, NASHVILLE, ARE Y’ALL READY FOR THIS SHIT?!”

And all I could think was, No.  No, we are not.  This looks awful.  Please spare us from your horrendous abortion of music.

But, nevertheless, they began to play, and as they played, I had an epiphany: the blinding lights, the blistering heat of the pyrotechnics combined with the scorching summer day, the hordes of the damned mortal heathens, the gnarling demonic sounds of death–I realized that if Hell exists, it is a Boys Like Girls concert.

For the love of God, they even tried to orchestrate circle pits.  Mosh pits.  First of all, a band with a name like Boys Like Girls should NOT be trying to start mosh pits.  Slayer, Metallica, Megadeth–those are appropriate mosh pit bands.  Dude, Megadeth even has the word “death” in their fucking NAME.  There’s even a band called Death Angel.  There’s even a band just called DEATH.  But a band named Boys Like Girls, quite possibly the most pussified band name I’ve ever heard, dares to organize a circle pit?

You know what, Boys Like Girls?  You wanna start a circle pit?  Fine.  But a word to the concert-goers: if you’re going to start a circle pit at a Boys Like Girls concert, you should form the pit AROUND THE ACTUAL BAND.  Teach them a damn lesson, from one metalhead to another, and run up to them and just pummel them right in their pop-punk faces.

To put it another way: when I go to a Metallica concert, the music gives me that vibe like, “Yeah, I wanna KILL somebody!”  But when I go to a Boys Like Girls concert, the music gives me that vibe like, “Yeah, I just wanna kill MYSELF.”

Until next time,

–Riley

Eu acredito que o espírito do rock seja indestrutível e imortal, porém, não anda nos seus melhores dias. O rock não morreu, está em coma. Quando o assunto é passado, está vivíssimo! Seja na lembrança e admiração por antigas bandas ou em grandes nomes que continuam na ativa, a exemplo do Iron Maiden que sacudiu o Brasil recentemente e do Metallica que promete uma visita para breve.

Mas quando o assunto é presente, ou futuro, a conversa muda. Não há atualmente uma única banda que possa levantar a bandeira do rock e erguê-la com orgulho dizendo ao mundo ‘estamos aqui para quebrar tudo!‘. Na verdade, pequenas movimentações, ou espasmos, ainda existem, mas analisando a cena como um todo as perspectivas são as piores.

Tenho ouvido bastante o Little Joy (do Amarante) que não deixa de ser uma bela banda de rock, mas caminha muito mais para o lado poético e bonito da coisa, deixando de lado ousadia, atitude e mosh-pit moments.

É, a coisa tá feia. Segunda-feira, dia 13 de julho, o rock comemorou mais um aniversário mas na verdade não havia muito o que festejar, tanto foi que, o dia passou incólume até mesmo para mim e não fosse um Especial do dia do Rock com a Pitty que trombei no Multishow, teria passado batido.

Pitty?! Ainda tem essa, como se não bastasse o momento de ver um movimento social, cultural, politico e musical à beira da decadência, ainda temos que conviver com o oportunismo de outrém que utilizam o glamour de outras épocas para eleger, por conta própria, novos ídolos “rock”. Pitty, Fresno e por aí vai…

Lamentável, mas paciência. Graças a Deus podemos sempre recorrer ao passado intocável e beber de sua energia enquanto o Deus Reencarnado não dá as caras, ou seria um anti-cristo?

Diaaaabo!
O diabo usa capote
É Rock! É Toque! É Forte!
Diaaaabo!
Foi ele mesmo que
Me deu o toque…

They were children. Most of them. I half expected to see a coach pulled up outside and a harrassed teacher trying to dole out name badges.

The pint was horrible. And the vodka and lemonade was, well, just lemonade. They were the sort of drinks you gave to kids just happy to get served. The tap said Carlsberg but it tasted like piss and smelt like feet. Still, the yoof army was getting merry on it.The fumes and act were an intoxication enough for them. Just being out, and free, they were high on independence.

We sat, the four of us, in a corner.

“Do you feel slightly uncomfortable that they are all ten years younger than us?”

We all nodded. And Dave’s brother was just 20. He felt old. We three didn’t have a chance.

Into the gig and we found ourselves in a line of the sensible older people, standing stoically behind an imaginary glass pane, staring at the yoofs as if they were another species, trying to work out if we were that much of a cock when we were that age. Of course we weren’t.

By the time the band walked on, as pissed as their audience and waving to school mates in the crowd (ah yes, the band too were of an age where stubble was but a lofty ideal, a project in cultivation, not a reality), the mosh pit was already in full anarchy. The first chord brought a collective sweat-drenching rumble and from that point we lost them.

Alcohol, drugs, youth, mental illness, I’m not sure what it was. Boys crowd surfed while girls sat on their beau’s shoulders. It was an imitation. They were copying what they saw on tv, at festivals. In a club the size of a lounge who’s owners could afford private education. And this was a very private education crowd. High on ready cash and leisure time.

And as the set progressed so did the mania, ever increasing groups clinging together for support and jumping and rolling into each other and us. We looked on bemused. Smug, even, that we were of an age where there was nothing, really, to prove.

And suddenly it was over. The crowd pushed out as if the school bell had sounded. They emptied like rats into the street and scuttled away. We cynically stood and watched them.

I had always feared that age would door step me like Shane Richie in the old Daz adverts. I would not be ready for it. I would not have prepared. I would open the metaphorical door to mortgages and pension plans in my underwear, exposed and embarassed in front of a national audience. Every one of them thinking “You idiot, it’s not for you anymore, did you not realise?”

But last night, I realised it would never be like that. When the time comes to hang up my dancing shoes and make the transition to ending the night at the pub, not the club, I will be ready for it. I will know when my number is called. For that awkwardness I am beginning to feel will become terminal. There will be a subconcious undemocratic decision of which I will not be part. And I will bow out gracefully. Thankfully, I am certain that won’t be for a good few years yet.

P.O.T.U.S. correspondent Patrick Ferrise in the Brady Briefing Room, waiting for Pres. Obama. (6.23.09; 11:30 am EST)

Okay, so now you have to listen to “Press Pool” this afternoon to hear his report.

I’m a little sick to my stomach after watching the clip of Jon and Kate announcing their separation. We all knew it was coming, yada yada, and I’ve been disgusted with them for a while. One morning in Burbank I was approached by an E! camera crew wanting me to comment; I declined but later wished I’d agreed, once I found out they wanted people to wish the Gosselins a happy anniversary. I would’ve said no on national TV, that I can’t believe what they’re doing to their children on national TV. At any rate, curiosity got the best of me and I watched the “divorce clip” online. Check out the language they’re using:

Kate Gosselin:

The kids will remain living in their house; I’ve always called this their house. I will remain here as well, during my portion of having them. Jon will also come here when it is his days, and we will flip-flop that way.

Jon Gosselin:

They love it here, this is their house. We bought this house for them, not for us. The security, the room, the land, all for them.

Um, gosh, it really sounds like you guys were planning to be together forever. All for them? Their house? The conclusion one draws here is that the kids are entirely on their own, and they truly do have actual parental units, that will move in and out of their lives, disconnected, willy-nilly. To continue the show under such an arrangement is unconscionable. Let’s rename it Shame on Jon & Kate.

And now I say, with just a hint of irony, thank God for the Duggars.

ADDENDUM: Reading further reports, I see that Jon is quoted as saying, “We are no different than other couples and parents who are facing a crossroads in their marriage.” Except for that whole filming-it-all-for-national-TV thing. Except for that.