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Friday, March 28, 2014

March 2014 - Under the Influence

Hey there, meant to update this while we were on the road, but... you know how things go on the road - Hangovers, layovers, fatigue, lack of internet... Anyway, we finally finished two back-to-back tours with the truly indulgent and most excellent dudes in Toxic Holocaust across the western half of the USA and the vast majority of the  European continent. We're going to be do something really weird next - take six months off touring (with the exception of the Scion Rock Fest in Pomona, California this May) so we'll actually get a bit of time to relax. Anyway, in between catching up on all the TV I've missed while on tour, I've been going through my computer and tidying up files and such (oh yeah, I know how to have a good time) and I came across something I wrote for a Finnish webzine called Imperiumi. They have a feature called "Pirun Tusina" (which translates to "the Devil's Dozen") where different musicians talk about the thirteen records that have had the biggest impact on them and their musical development.

I love this kind of thing and had a blast writing this up, and it turned out to be pretty long-winded. Anyway, I'm not sure if they ever did translate / post it, but I came across the document and thought I'd share it here. I doubt anyone who knows much about me or the band will be surprised at all, but, if you dig this kind of stuff, hopefully you'll find it a decent read. I'll be back with more new content, tablature and - yes, I have heard your numerous requests - I will resume the tour diaries. Anyway, enjoy this for now.
Cheers,
Matt  

#1. Metallica Master of Puppets


I first heard this around Christmas of 1987. I had turned 12 a couple of months earlier and was gettting into Dio, Maiden, Ozzy, W.A.S.P., and all the requisite 80s mainstream / hair metal stuff. I tried one of those record club 12 cassettes for a penny deals (remember when that was a thing?) and Metallica was a name I had vaguely heard of somewhere, so I took a stab in the dark and ordered Master of Puppet (Peace Sells... But Who's Buying was also in there, which I added on the list because it had cool cover art). After I had sifted through all the stuff I got (Ozzy “Tribute,” Quiet Riot “Metal Health,” W.A.S.P.'s first album, Dio “Sacred Heart,” and a bunch of other stuff I've forgotten) I came to the Metallica and Megadeth tapes. I had saved these two for last, since they looked the most frightening and were unknown commodities. I was at my grandparents' for the holidays and was the last person awake. I remember sitting in the empty living room with the tree and all the presents and listening to music in the dark on my Walkman - that's where I first heard Metallica.

At first I thought, “This isn't a heavy metal tape, this like... Spanish music or something,” until that angular, aggressive verse riff emerged from one of the greatest build-ups in Metal history. When the drums kicked in, I was literally shocked. While I listened, alone in the dark, eyes closed, I literally felt like I was on the most intense roller-coaster ride of my life. When “Battery” ended, I had to stop the tape to catch my breath. I remember looking around the room in disbelief – something fucking amazing had just happened to me, something inside me had woken up – and I was a little surprised that the living room still looked the same, because I felt that things had become, well... fundamentally different than they had been before I heard that song. I took a moment to collect my thoughts, and then proceeded to get into the second track. I wasn't sure exactly what the lyrics were about, and I worried (the pitch-shifted laughter in the bridge actually frightened me at the time) that I would get grounded or something for listening to the record if my parents found out it was satanic (it wasn't). The title track ended and again, I stopped the tape to try and make some sense of what I'd heard. I decided that this record was completely worth the risk of getting grounded and that I would press on through the rest of the album. It was that revolutionary to me, that even listening to the record felt like an act of defiance. And it felt damn good.

A couple of weeks later I saw an issue of Hit Parader or whatever rock mag it was, and there were all these guys with huge hair and sparkly pants, and then there was Metallica and they were just... these four guys. They weren't puckering their lips for the camera – they were scowling, or laughing, or skateboarding. They didn't look like “rock stars,” they just looked like dudes from the nearby high school: ratty jeans; band t-shirts; leathers; puffy white hi-tops. When I saw them, I thought – “Maybe I could do that.” I had been thinking about picking up an instrument, but I never quite made the leap of trying it until I saw Metallica. I thought: “they're just regular guys, and they're blowing everybody else out of the water – no robot dragons, no hairspray, no music video, and they're the most interesting band on the scene. Fuck, if they can do it, why not me?” And so I did. And I'm still playing white guitars, wearing tight black jeans, sleeveless shirts, wristbands and high-tops 26 years later, so I'd say the influence can't really be overstated. So much of what I've done musically stems directly from that night in December 1987.

Even as an adult, I never, ever, ever get tired of listening to this album. Each song is great in its own right, and it has just the right mix of... well, everything. There's youthful aggression, thoughtful passages, touches of Cliff's emotive psychedelic influence, lyrics that are just deep / juvenile enough to stimulate a kid in school but not embarrass an adult, and of course, an endless array of the best riffs in the fucking universe. To me, this album (and to a lesser extent Ride The Lightning) epitomizes how great Heavy Metal can be. For every defiantly triumphal melody, there's a lumbering colossus of a riff or a straight-ahead, face-ripping Thrash section. These guys make using these seemingly disparate elements look easy. I could probably write 800 words on each song, but I'll leave it at this for now.

#2 Slayer Hell Awaits
After discovering Metallica and Megadeth, (who seemed to my young ears to be an inferior albeit enjoyable band to listen to when you were tired of Metallica) anything seemed possible in the realm of heavy music that was just opening up to me. And then... Enter Slayer. I got Reign In Blood first, and was of course overwhelmed by the speed and aggression (I even ruined the “listening to students' music one day a week in class” in Seventh grade by playing “Altar of Sacrifice” and shocking the “cool teacher” at school who was very nonplussed) but I ended up spending more time with Hell Awaits. Sure Reign went for the throat, but Hell Awaits was fucking scary.

I remember buying that cassette (I religiously bought everything on cassette back then, which I profoundly regret in hindsight) very distinctly. I was having a sleepover sometime during early 1988 at a buddy's house, and we went to the record store together where He bought Appetite For Destruction, and I bought Hell Awaits. Back at his dad's apartment, we compared purchases. As I listened to the Gn'R album (which I now completely love) I was cringing with disgust - all I heard was another generic MTV-ready glam band (again, that's a 12 year-old's opinion), but my buddy was totally into it. Then I popped in Hell Awaits and it was clear he just as bummed out with what he was hearing as I had been with Appetite. The next morning when I left his house, I knew that we would never hang out again. And we didn't. I got this feeling that I was on a different path- keep in mind I was twelve years old here, I was changing and everything seemed new and laden with significance – leading to someplace darker, faster and heavier than ever before. Hell Awaits was pointing the way.

This album is verging on pure Death Metal – especially for the time: the dark tremelo picked riffs, songs about hell, necrophilia, serial killers, vampires, and uh... well, amphetamines. Even the bass was audible in the mix! As much as I love Show No Mercy (I used to have it in my auto-reverse tape deck to play over and over while I slept), I feel like this is the album where Slayer became Slayer, or rather SLAAAAAAYER!!! This is the sound that defined their greatest moments, the sound of two guitars slashing and hacking instead of soloing, weaving minor riffs fraught with sinister atonality and quirky harmonies around Dave's breakneck drumming. They streamlined and perfected the formula on Reign In Blood, but give me the experimentation and the sinister feel of Hell Awaits any day. The rough-hewn production and not-quite-professional-yet vibe of the songwriting and instrumentation is something unique and very close to my heart.

#3 Exodus Bonded By Blood

I got Exodus' sophomore album, Pleasures of the Flesh sometime in early 1988. I liked it, but didn't fall in love with it. I think I had a lot of company in that analysis. The atrocious drum sound and hollow production didn't do the excellent songs any favors. That said, I liked it enough to get Bonded By Blood, which completely blew me away. It was the missing link between Kill 'Em All and Show No Mercy, but I think it's quite a bit better than either of those albums. When I hear that intro – I feel my blood pressure rise and the intense desire to just find someone to beat the shit out of. And it feels fucking good. By the time I heard this record I had a few thrash cassettes, and was getting a feel for what the genre was about. This record encapsulates what Thrash Metal is perfectly. It may be the quintessential Thrash album. 

It retains the classiness of pure British metal with Holt and Hunolt's articulate, melodc solos, but pairs it with the nastiness of those... fucking... riffs... Riff after riff just completely rules. Baloff's almost tuneless vocals sound like the roar of a guy you wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley. There's a palpable sense of danger and menace bristling through every aspect of the record, propelled  by the pummeling drum work of Tom Hunting, one of the most criminally underrated drummers in metal. His fills and fluid bass drumming animate riffs that would sound stale with the Lombardo Polka beat.

I love the lyrics to this album more than I can express. There's an arrogant cruelty and complete lack of taste throughout. It isn't about fighting glorious battles or killing your enemies, it's about stabbing people in the back and raping people's wives. There are absolutely no fucks given and no holds barred on this lyric sheet. The lack of refinement and sentiment is refreshing – there's no pretension there. Slayer used big words like “abascinate,” Exodus were okay with just saying “Bloody corpse, makes me feel great.” Because really, what else do you need to say?

I was talking to a friend from the crossover band What Happens Next? about Exodus years later, and before becoming a straightedge punk, he was a thrash kid and, being a bit older than I, attended the infamous “dead poseur” show at Ruthie's Inn in Berkeley - The show where the “Slay Team” (Exodus' entourage) dragged some random guy in a Ratt or Motley Crue shirt or whatever on stage and kicked his ass pretty badly. The show fell apart and the band left the stage, but the crowd remained behind, chanting “Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!” for several minutes. As he related that story, he ended with “...and that's why I got out of metal.” I simply responded, “That's why I got into metal.”

#4 Celtic Frost Morbid Tales



When I saw this tape in the record store, I had seen the band's name on a couple of compilations, but honestly, Celtic Frost didn't seem that cool of a moniker to me. It still sounds like the name of a soap (maybe Irish Spring's rival?) to me if I think about it objectively. But between the heptagram cover art and the cool song titles, I bought it anyway (I found a ton of great records that way, like The Force by Onslaught). As soon as “Into Crypts of Rays” kicked in... all thoughts of soap were banished. Now the words "celtic frost" could only mean Celtic Frost. The dark, dingy sound of the record was totally different from anything I'd heard before. The riffs remain the heaviest of all time, and this was done without down-tuning and in 1984. That blows my mind.

What made the album even more personal to me was that it was one of the few tapes I had at the time that I could actually play along with on guitar from start to finish. Sure, I knew all the riffs on Kill 'Em All, but it didn't sound like Kill 'Em All when I played it (crappily). But when I played “Nocturnal Fear,” it sounded like “Nocturnal Fear.” I spent so much time playing to this album, its style became engrained in my guitar-playing. By the time I heard Terrorizer and learned their power-chord sliding riffs, my first thought was - “Oh, it's like Celtic Frost, but 4 times as fast, I get it.”

Another thing I really liked about this record was that the cassette I bought had no information on it whatsoever beyond the cover art and song titles. I knew absolutely nothing about the band, the image, the lyrics, anything. That, coupled with the relentless heaviness of the music, the grimy recording, and those ubiquitous “unghs!” created a kind of personal mystique for me (that was promptly shattered when Cold Lake was released later that year). Despite Fischer's attempts to re-shatter it years later with his probably-too-candid autobiography, I can still recapture it when I hear those thunderous, graveyard shaking riffs and every previously “heavy” riff instantly sounds wimpy compared to Morbid Tales all over again.

#5 Venom Black Metal



In October of 1988, my best friend (then and now) and original Exhumed drummer, Col Jones handed me the Black Metal cassette and said “Happy Birthday.” We sat down and listened to “the band that Metallica started out opening for” as we knew them at that time and were blown away by what we heard. What drew me in was the hell-for-leather abandon of it all. Behind the inverted crosses, piles of amps, racks of endless toms, bombastic monikers, and excessive dry ice was something rare and beautiful – a great sense of humor. Any band that could write a song like “Teacher's Pet” and also help inspire teenagers in Norway to burn down churches over a decade later is clearly covering all the bases.

The sloppiness of the proceedings were extremely appealing to a naïve young guitarist struggling to master the main riff in “Pleasures of the Flesh.” It's a lot easier and more fun to just play “To Hell And Back,” where the verse riff is essentially two chords. I think by this time we felt comfortable listening to heavy music, because I remember grinning ear to ear when I heard this record. I felt like I was in on a brilliant, tongue-in-cheek farce. Slayer had already cured me of any religious beliefs, so the Satanic stuff had become pure theater for me at this point, titillating but no longer frightening; fear has been replaced by something purer – stimulation. Not sexual, but visceral. Once I saw The Ultimate Revenge, Venom fascinated me even more, and for a good number of years they were be my favorite band. I loved the bombast and the way they were able to make three guys playing sloppy Satanic proto-thrash seem like the biggest deal in the universe. It wasn't just the pyro and the explosions (although those helped), it was the band's swagger and attitude. A life-long love affair with Venom started on my 13th birthday and  continues to this day.


#6 Kreator Pleasure To Kill


Maybe Black Metal was more fun then scary, but there was no laughter in the room when I heard Pleasure To Kill the first time. I remember listening to this record in early '89 (still thirteen at the time) while eating cereal before leaving to catch the school bus. I sat there shoving honey nut cheerios into my cake-hole and thought “holy shit – this is faster than Slayer!” After randomly catching the “Toxic Trace” video on MTV's Headbanger's Ball, I had to get a Kreator album. Endless Pain was the one that was in stock at the record store around the corner from my house, but I hadn't quite found what I was looking for until I picked this one up.

All of a sudden I felt like there was a new level of speed available to bands, and I wondered why they weren't all playing this fast? Why wouldn't everyone want to scream on the verge of comprehensibility like Mille and Ventor do on this album? Why stop at Reign in Blood?!?!? The solos here make Slayer look like Eddie Van Halen, the drumming is off-time and sloppy, the toms sound ridiculous, and some of the riffs are so chromatic they almost accidentally wander into major keys. But who really gives a fuck when it sounds this powerful. This album sounds like it's about to explode out of your speakers and destroy everything in it's path. You feel like you almost have to get out of the way of this album, it's so aggressive. If I could sum this album up in one word, I'd say it's fucking mean. Even the sort of nice parts (the bridge in “Riot of Violence”) seem like a monster giving a girl flowers and accidentally crushing them in his hand and terrifying the girl anyway. There's an energy to this record that is uniquely powerful, and although I love all their early records, this one really pushed me to want to play faster, along with bands like S.O.D., D.R.I., and Cryptic Slaughter.

#7 Voivod Dimension Hatross



It wasn't all about speed and brutality, though (although it mostly was). There was room for something a bit more... dare I say cerebral? Voivod were always the most unique Thrash band, then and now, and Hatross was THE ONE. The record was completely different from its peers from the ground up: fueled by science-fiction concepts, broken English, and dissonant, off-kilter guitar-riffs, the instrumentalists of the band had three uniquely bizarre styles that interlocked in a way that sounded unlike anything else. Maybe if I was jamming Killing Joke, Die Kreuzen, and King Crimson in 1988, I would have had some frame of reference for what I was hearing, but I had never heard of any of those bands yet. I was still popping zits listening to Slayer.

The record brought something really appealing to me personally, a long-time comic book and science-fiction reader - a heady and interesting concept that had nothing to with Satan or any other Metal cliches. There was no treading of the same old waters here – the paradigm wasn't shifted, but shattered. Still retaining the heaviness and aggression of their early years and just beginning to tap into the progressive futurism of the Nothingface era, the band was (and still is) light years ahead of their time. I think this album sounds as innovative and unique in 2013 as it did in 1988. I loved the fact that everything was centered around this weird concept that they could take it in these strange new directions. Best of all, there's an unassuming aspect about this album: in that it's technical and skronky without being showy about it. The music sounds how it's supposed to sound: expressive and personal, whereas most “progressive” or “technical” music sounds stale, contrived and overthought. This is Voivod sounding like themselves: unique and untouchable.

#8 Sodom Persecution Mania



Growing up in the Bay Area, even a thirteen year-old could figure out that Metallica, Exodus, Testament, et al were pretty fucking popular in 1989. As much as I loved (and still love) the Bay Area Thrash movement, I wanted something faster and more brutal. I wanted that same adrenaline rush that I got the first time I heard “Battery.” Like any addict, I just needed more. Sodom seemed like Kreator's crueler little brother. When this cassette landed in my circle of friends it exploded like the nuclear bomb sound effect in “Nuclear Winter.”

There's not really anything innovative or ground-breaking going on this album, it just kicks fucking ass. Witchhunter's endless tom fills rain down like a hail of bombs (a “Bombenhagel” - see what I did there?), Angelripper's sneering growl spits out tales of Armageddon with a movie-villain German accent, and Blackfire's guitar work borders on tasteful (especially in comparison with Kreator's solos) adding a sheen of “musicality” to the proceedings. The cover art alone is worth buying the album for. We spent lots of time in our parents' living rooms plodding through cover versions of “Persecution Mania” and “Bombenhagel” (as well as “Riot of Violence”) in 1989 and I haven't stopped spinning this record (or many of their other ones) since.

#9 Death Scream Bloody Gore



With Kreator and Sodom releasing brilliant but comparatively safe sounding records in 1989 (Extreme Aggression and Agent Orange respectively) it was time to look elsewhere for brutality: Florida. The first time I heard SBG I was actually a little confused by the extremity and the basement-level production. After repeated listens I got it: this album was the deranged, bloody audio equivalent of the B- horror films I loved. Chuck's voice sounded like someone was literally torturing him while he played, and the riffs were a less developed version of what Slayer had done, but still unique. I quickly set to work learning every single fucking riff on the album and we added “Sacrificial,” “Mutilation,” and “Infernal Death” to our semi-competent repertoire of cover songs. 

I remember xeroxing the lyric sheet in the CD (I only had the tape) so that I could pour over couplets like “Vomit for a mind, maggots for a cock.” Once again, there was an element of cruelty to the music. Completely un-PC (and probably regrettable in hindsight) lyrics like “I celebrate, a faggot's death, human disgrace” were actually shocking. I thought after Slayer and Venom there was no shocking me. Wrong. Another friend of ours had “Leprosy” which is obviously the better album in all respects, but I loved SBG more, then and now, and not just because I could play all the riffs at thirteen. Even after honing my playing and getting down the Leprosy (and eventually Spiritual Healing) stuff, the more straightforward arrangements and willfully atrocious lyrics somehow had wormed their way into my heart and have stayed there ever since. One of the greatest pleasures of my Metal "career" was playing and singing "Zombie Ritual" with Gene Hoglan and other Death Alumni at Neurotic Deathfest. Talk about surreal. 

#10 Napalm Death The Peel Sessions



The first time I heard Napalm Death was towards the end of 1989 and I hated them. It was a bunch of racket. It was garbage. Questions arose like: “Is this even music? What the fuck was wrong with them? Why would anyone want to make that sound?” And then, inevitably came the next sentence: “But... play it again.” I wanted the fastest, the most brutal band in the world, and I had finally found them. Within a few months, they went from “the dumbest band ever” to being my favorite band. More than any other extreme band, they represented a paradigm shift in my musical tastes and identity. Just as Metallica and Slayer made listening to Cinderella un-fucking-thinkable, Napalm Death ended up doing the same thing to Metallica and Slayer.

As much as I love (pretty much all) the band's proper records, this recording just shocked me and made such a massive impression. The drumming literally just sounds like an explosion, while the riffs benefit from that distinctive late 80s Bill Steer guitar tone and his great Reek Of Putrefaction-era whammy bar antics make a few appearances too. At the time I heard this record, my friends and I had already been talking about forming a proper band, but before long our original drummer Col and I were holding our own practices where we were free to pursue our love of blast beats. The other guys were still listening to stuff like Coroner, and we were ready to embrace the bash-and-crash style popularized by Mick Harris and the lads.

#11 Carcass Symphonies of Sickness



By summer of 1990, my pimply-faced friends and I were knee deep in Death, Obituary, Morbid Angel, Napalm Death, Bolt Thrower and Entombed. Earache stuff was still really difficult to find in record stores (for a fourteen year-old anyway), but on a trip to San Francisco with my parents, a quick stop at Tower Records allowed me to locate the Symphonies LP. I didn't have a record player, so I had to listen to the album in the living room on my parent's record player. It's worth mentioning that I had to listen to it on headphones, since there was no way in hell my dad would let me play the god-awful noise I was into at full volume on his stereo (I would buy blank tapes and record LPs onto cassette immediately, then shelve the LP). I remember opening the gatefold and being blown away by the intricately morbid photo collage. As the brief intro slithered to a conclusion and “Reek Of Putrefaction” kicked in, I was not exactly hooked yet. The lyrics were printed in crappy blue font directly onto the gatefold collage and between that and the medical terminology, it was impossible to figure out what the hell they were. My initial thought was that it was like early Napalm Death gone Death Metal. That of course, doesn't even begin to cover it.

The lyrics were what hooked me in first. I've always been a reader, my mom was a nursing professor so the medical aspect was resonant, and the large words created an insular nerdiness to being into the band that I wholeheartedly embraced. A couple months later I saw the band open for Death and Pestilence in Oakland. They were the first established band on Earache to play in the Bay Area (as far as I know), and finally hearing guitars tuned that low and blast beats in person pushed my friends and I fully into playing the more extreme stuff. That was when everything clicked for me - that this band was fucking amazing, not just an interesting stream of weird words. On the ride home that night, after being blown away by Carcass, very, very impressed by Pestilence and disappointed by Death (the band only played a few songs as fill-in guitarist Albert Gonzalez of Evildead had insufficient time to learn the material), we decided to merge our bash-and-crash sessions with our proper “songs” and thus the concept for Exhumed was crystallized in the back seat of a Honda Civic on October 14th, 1990 in Oakland.

#12 Repulsion “Horrified”



When you're a bit of a nerd and obsessed with bands, a natural question that arises is "what are my favorite bands' favorite band?" In 1990, my favorite bands were Napalm Death and Carcass, and in both cases the answer to the above question seemed to be Repulsion. After being intrigued but not blown away by their track “Radiation Sickness” on the Grind Crusher compilation, I tracked down the “Horrified” CD, and... almost didn't buy it because Matt Olivo was wearing a Tina Turner shirt in the band photo. For whatever reason, I pressed on and bought it, and holy shit, am I glad I did. After realizing that Napalm had nicked the opening riff to “Stench Of Burning Death” (for their Peel Sessions version of "Deceiver") I started paying close attention. 

I realized by reading the liner info that everything was recorded in 1986, was was (and still is) astounding. The record manages to combine Death Metal and Grindcore before most people even credit either of those genres as existing. I still think that this is the single most intense Death Metal or Grindcore album ever recorded, period. It has the killer Slayer / Death type riffs, with the snarl and attitude of Discharge, Celtic Frost and Slaughter and the speed of... well, no one else at the time.
Behind all the intensity is some quality guitar work from Matt Olivo, another criminally underrated player, and some genuinely catchy riffs and arrangements. Even their shortest song, “Pestilent Decay” at 1:05 is still a proper song, with hooks and some kind of musical development. The solos flail wildly against the ceaseless battering that Dave Grave inflicts on his drum kit, all beneath the sneering vocals of Scott Carlson, who manages to infuse Death Metal vocals with attitude. 

That's the thing that really sets this album apart and keeps it sounding fresh. If it were simply “the fastest demo of 1986” it would be a novelty. But it's chock full of great songs and a swaggering, sarcastic rock and roll attitude that is so sadly lacking in modern metal. It's no wonder the American metal scene wasn't ready for this band in 1986, they were years ahead of everyone else and remain totally unique.

#13 Autopsy Severed Survival



Every summer as a kid I would spend a couple of weeks with my grandparents (until I got a job in 1991 when I was 15). The last summer I spent with them was the summer of 1990. I spent most of my time at their house by myself in their spare bedroom with a downtuned Epiphone Les Paul learning the riffs on Severed Survival and attempting the solo in “Gasping For Air”- still one of my favorites. If any band makes me think of the adjective “sick” it's Autopsy. The lurching doom riffs on the album are literally the sound of a chill creeping down your spine and vomit creeping up into your throat. 

I know it's Death Metal, but this record sounds really fucking alive. It feels like you're in the room with the band, the oppressive heaviness of the riffs closing in around you like a coffin lid shutting. Chris' vocals literally sound like he's throwing up the entire time, and Stevie D's croaking bass adds a level of real depth missing on every Death Metal from record from Florida of the era.

Just as I thought I was getting away from “rock and roll” and into something much more extreme and dark, the solos on this album showed me that it's all still rock and roll. There are deranged pentatonic leads everywhere, keeping things loose and nasty, when the entire genre was moving towards being tighter and tidier. They've never walked that path, and my ears are extremely grateful for that. The first “real” show Exhumed ever played was opening for Autopsy in January of 1992 (our fourth or maybe fifth overall) and just watching them soundcheck was electrifying. The fact that they were cool guys who were nice to the sixteen-year old nerds playing with them makes that night even more special.
Honorable mentions:
Sepultura Beneath the Remains - the perfect Death / Thrash metal crossover
Entombed Left Hand Path - the perfect template for Swedish Death Metal
Possessed Seven Churches - the blueprint for Death Metal
Bathory Under the Sign of the Black Mark - an album so evil I literally hid it from my parents
Bolt Thrower Realm of Chaos - the grungiest riffs paired with blissfully nerdy cover art
The Cure Pornography - the most fun you'll ever have feeling completely depressed
Sonic Youth Daydream Nation - dissonance that's both jarring and fragile
My Bloody Valentine Loveless - a whirlwind of obscure, beautiful sounds
The Swans White Light From the Mouth of Infinity - the most depressing album of all time
N.W.A. Straight Outta Compton - the hip-hop Reign in Blood
Beastie Boys License to Ill - the ultimate party record and the first cassette tape I ever bought with my own money

Thursday, January 2, 2014

Coins Upon The Eyes Transcription

I'm going to try and stick with posting a transcription a month here. We'll see how that goes. We use a lot of tab for writing and communicating between the band, since we all live 4 hours away from each other minimum, and Bud and I live on opposite sides of the country. The point there being that a lot of our songs are at least partially tabbed out already, so I should be able to get a lot of them up.
 
Here's the first track from Necrocracy - "Coins Upon The Eyes." I figured I'd start here since a few folks on FB mentioned it. I'll post some of the older stuff soon - you'll may be surprised at how bone-headedly simple most of the stuff on the first two records actually is. We use the Guitar Pro 6 program to write / tab in, so I've posted the original .gpx file that the program creates as well as a .pdf. The .gpx file will be far more useful and easier on the eyes, but the .pdf should get the job done if you don't have GP6. 
 
The transcription only includes my solo, as Bud doesn't tab out this sort of thing and he usually incorporates a fair degree of improvisation live as well. My solos are usually 85% planned out by the time I get done recording them. My leads are also easier to play, which makes them easier to replicate both live and in tablature form. At any rate, enjoy and happy shredding in 2014.
 
Cheers,
Matt and the dudes
 
"Coins Upon the Eyes" guitar tablature as a .gpx file
"Coins Upon the Eyes" guitar tablature as a .pdf file

 
 

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

Winter 2012 Tour Diarrhea part IV: The long and grinding road

After the end of Municipal Waste / Napalm Death tour in Tampa, we were feeling good about how everything had turned out on "If You're Not Wasted, The Day Is" jaunt across the good ol' US of A, even though we missed the Canadian shows. The morning after the Tampa show, Dr. Philthy, who out of necessity as our van driver maintains a sober lifestyle on the road, unwittingly ate a pot cookie, and as he is not a stoner at all, ended up being incapacitated for quite a while, so we hung out, cooked some breakfast and watched football for a few hours. Rob had gone to party at some other friends' house, so we picked him up on our way out of town. Mike was staying in Florida for a few days and flying out to meet us in California for what was supposed to be the last show of the tour in Fullerton on December 5th. But plans were about to change.
 
I woke up in the wee hours of the third of December in Spanish Fort, Alabama. We had pulled over for what I assumed was a routine piss stop, but the reason for our lack of forward progress was actually an engine problem. As soon as Dr. Philthy restarted the van and I heard how badly it was knocking, I could tell that whatever was wrong with it, it wasn't good. Not that I know much of anything about working on cars, but I've owned enough shitty cars in my day to have experienced almost every possible car problem. We were parked a few hundred feet from a Goodyear tire / repair shop and when they opened at seven am the following day, we were there, bracing for bad news. The news was even worse than we were expecting. They got the van in to take a look at it and quickly surmised that we probably needed an entirely new engine. Whoa. After giving us a ride to McDonald's to get some breakfast and coffee, they referred us to a place down the street, told us we could leave our trailer in their parking lot for as long as we needed to, and didn't charge us a cent to run the diagnostic on the van. Truly some stand up people.
 
Crash course in van surgery
The van limped down the street to Advanced Transmission. After a little false hope that we would be looking at a $700 problem, they confirmed the earlier diagnosis: we were looking at a new engine. This would be way more than what we could afford, especially after taking a pretty serious financial hit missing the Canadian shows in November. Luckily, we got some crucial help from Relapse - thanks guys! - and signed off on the repairs. To further complicate things, between getting the engine and installing it in the van, we would be in Alabama until that Friday. We managed to reschedule the Fullerton show for February, and since we would be staying in Alabama for a week, we decided to add some shows on the way home to try to stem the financial hemorrhaging we were experiencing. The folks at the transmission shop were also great, they let us loiter there for a couple of hours while we formulated a plan of action and the lady who co-owned the shop gave us her personal car to drive around while we were stuck in town, since both of their loaner cars were already out with other customers. That's what I call Southern hospitality. We gathered our personal luggage, bought a lock for our trailer hitch, and headed off to nearby Mobile, Alabama to set up camp in the very affordable and only moderately sketchy Red Roof Inn there.
They also had to pull out the front console to get everything set up.
Since we were implementing austerity measures, we stocked up on groceries and hunkered down in the hotel for an incredibly boring few days. At least the weather was nice. We took a trip to the site of the Battleship USS Alabama, which was moderately interesting, ate some continental breakfast at much nicer nearby hotels and watched basic cable.
The gang gets America on everyone's asses.
Rob Babcock, dumbass first class, reporting for doody.

The USS Alabama. History buffs... you're welcome.
We found a nearby record store and hung out there for a while, and it turned out that the guy who worked there knew who Exhumed was and actually used to hang out with Felix Havoc and the whole Minneapolis grind / crust crew back in the 90s. We also bought some very goofy records pictured below.


 
Mike arrived Thursday night, and to celebrate we went and watched the Raiders / Broncos game. I should have put "celebrate" in quotes, because that game was awful for the silver and black. We shrugged off the disappointment that has been the constant burden of Raider fans for the past several years and prepared to be reunited with our van the next day. That Friday afternoon, at long last, our van was back in action with a brand new engine and we were headed out to Lafayette Louisiana to start playing our way back home. Honestly, just to be heading westward was an incredible feeling. The show was predictably small, but we were just having fun playing and not being stuck at the Red Roof Inn. We were also treated to some delicious homemade gumbo and crawfish which was great. We partied with some locals afterward, and ended up grabbing an acoustic guitar and entertaining everyone with some off-the-cuff country covers, Merle Haggard, David Allan Coe, and a few others. Bud is a killer harmony vocalist, so that made us sound like we knew what we were doing. We then crashed at the promoter's house / compound which was awesome and had tons of room  before heading off to Space City the following day.
This dude was delicious.
Hangover hijinks with Body Bag Babcock in Lafayette, Louisiana.
 
Houston was an ideal situation because we jumped on the Bastard Deceiver show that was already happening. I was stoked to see them play again, especially since the sound wasn't all that great when they played with us in Tampa. They were predictably great. Frank from Turbokrieg set up the show, and they fucking ruled as well - great straight up powerviolence / grind. The guitarist's other band Cervical Mucous Meltdown played right before them and they were also excellent, more of ROP-era Carcass thing. The place was pretty damn full and people were raging. All in all, it was a great night. Even the guy who owned the club was really stoked and gave us a bunch of free shots at the end of the night.
 
We rolled out that night for Austin, Texas. Austin is one of those places that everything runs really, really late. We didn't even have to be there until 7:00 PM, so we had quite a bit of time to kill. Mike got tattooed by John Zig, whose killer artwork should be familiar to just about any Death Metal fan. I drank 7UP and worked through my hangover. While Mike was wrapping up, we headed to the venue and loaded in. Now that we were headlining, we could actually hang up our banners properly, which was cool. Before we played we grabbed some food at "Peruvian Creole" food truck called Llamas that was ridiculously good. I ate a cow heart. Yeah, a fucking cow heart. It was so good I went back there before we played so I could eat one of their sandwiches after the show.  The show was pretty fun and I got to catch up with some old friends, T.A. from Hod and Ancient Wisdom, Jeff from Birth AD and JT from Dixie Witch, and we headed back to Zig's place to crash out.
Medusa Tattoo in Austin.

Mirror, mirror on the wall, why did I forget to frame the shot so my stupid reflection wouldn't be in it?

Fucking cow heart. Yes!!!  Soooo tasty!

Hamilton in the chair and Zig on point, Medusa Tattoo, Austin Texas.

Finally, the correct way to put up our banners.
The drive to San Antonio the next day was pretty short, so went out to lunch at a sit-down Mexican place in Austin that was pretty good and then hit the road. We were playing downstairs at the Korova, where our old buddy Beer from Hod was working the door which was awesome. We also met Adrian from Cannibal Bitch who brought some much-appreciated barbecue and swag. The show was a little underwhelming, but we usually only play Austin or San Antonio, not both, and considering how last-minute it was, it wasn't a surprise. Regardless, it was fun, Pillcrusher was really good, and we crashed at Adrian's place. He works at the long-running and excellent Hogwild Records and had a prodigious record collection that we enjoyed nerding out on well through the night. We left early the next morning for Midland, Texas.
 
We had met the promoter, Jay, in Fort Worth when we played there in November (and where Mike broke the hotel fountain for no apparent reason) as he was a friend of our on-again / off-again merch-slinger Kevin Stewart-Panko. Jay was a stand up dude who put us up in a local motel and brought us beer, water and snacks there. The show was in a totally DIY space, and the only drawback of that was that it was seriously fucking cold. The show was pretty fun, not a barnburner, but far from shitty. And it was in Midland Texas, so we weren't exactly thinking "Wacken Open Air" going into it. We crashed out in the hotel briefly and got some rest for the long drive to Albuquerque.
The last drum head art I did on the tour... This one actually turned out to be my favorite.
Again, we didn't have to be in Albuquerque particularly early, since the venue, the Launchpad was hosting a wedding for the day / evening. We got there in the early evening, got our usual meal vouchers for the excellent Blackbird Buvette down the street (one of the many nice things about playing the Launchpad) and chowed down before the show. I started getting back on a healthier eating track after all the cow hearts and Texas barbecue I had rashly consumed the preceding week. The show was pretty good, especially considering how last minute everything was. We were all getting anxious to get home at this point, so we headed straight from the venue to Arizona to return our trailer to the U-Haul we had rented it from in Chandler (right near Arcane digital recording) and exchange it for another, one-way rental, trailer for the last few days. That wouldn't have been too bad if we were headed for LA like a sensible band, but we were playing Vegas that night, so it was definitely a detour.
Gas Station in Roswell, en route to Albuquerque. UFO conspiracy idiots - you're welcome.

Dr. Philthy, a not-so-little green man, and Rob.

There was also an awful lot of this on the way home.

The Rob Babcock garage sale extravaganza! We've got oven mitts, we've got headphones, if it's on the table, we'll sell it. Hugs are still free, though.
Detour or not, I was stoked to wake up in balmy Phoenix. The 80 degree weather was a welcome change from the 20s and 30s we had experienced the preceding few days. We didn't end up returning the trailer, they just inspected it and re-rented it to us as a one-way rental which was convenient. After some pho for lunch, we were on our merry way to Las Vegas. Our show was right near the "Fremont Street Experience" at a really nice venue with a great sound system. That said, the room was obviously way too big for us. We were in the same room Soulfly would be playing. The show was okay though, and Spun In Darkness are always killer to watch. We were all really tired by this point, and focused on getting the fuck home. As soon as we were loaded out, we were psyched to be on the road into California.
 
The next day, we were finally back in the golden state. Before we got into LA, we hit a Bass Pro Shop for our free picture with Santa. Luckily we still had the goofy Xmas sweaters we had bought in Atlanta. I think the picture turned out pretty damn good. That night, we played at the Key Club, and the show was moved at the last minute from the small room to the big room due to a cancellation upstairs. We had our friends in Gravehill, POOR, and Apoplexy on the bill and we were just super psyched to be almost done. We played a really long set that night, since we had our sometimes front-of-house guy Alejandro with us. The show was a little underwhelming, but we had just played LA less than a month before at House Of Blues, and it was raining (which in LA is a totally normal reason to not go to a show - even the Rainbow wasn't that crowded for a Saturday night due to the rain). Regardless we had a lot of fun hanging with friends and draining a bottle of Grey Goose, some Fireball, and some Schnapps (the last two are Xmas booze, in case you're wondering why our drinks weren't manlier). We grabbed a few more drinks at the Rainbow after the show and headed south to crash with some friends in Carlsbad, just north of San Diego.
Talking moose. Yup.
Stupid picture + clip art + logo = win. You owe it to yourself to view the full sized image so you can be blown away by Rob's sweater vest.
We had finally reached the last show of the tour... I woke up weakened - hungover and feeling like I had a cold or something from fatigue and all the different altitude / climate changes of the last few days. After a refreshing barf, I spent the early afternoon hanging out on the couch watching episodes of Cheers on Netflix, which should put anyone in a good mood. We got to the venue, The Yard, around 4 that afternoon. The Yard is the ultimate DIY spot - it's a converted backyard. Luckily, the trademark great weather of San Diego came through yet again and it was pretty nice out for the show. We were all really burnt and laid around the green room (a living room) until it was go time, eating delicious vegan shepherd's pie and catching up with friends from Disgorge and Noisear.  Before the show started, we were all feeling like we should have just wrapped things up in LA and gone home, but once we got onstage, we had a great time. The environment there was really like a party, and the kids were going ape-shit. It ended up being the perfect ending for the whole tour, with Dr. Philthy pouring blood on the kids from the roof. We dropped off Bud at his sister's place in San Diego and headed back to Carlsbad and hit the local watering hole where Rob made friends, then enemies, then friends again with some gang members (a guy with a neck tattoo, bandana, and probably a gun, told me that he loved Rob) and then concluded the night with some burritos. The next morning, we woke up stoked that the whole trek was finally drawing to a close. We ate a hearty breakfast, dropped Rob off at his new apartment in Santa Ana, then deposited Deedee, our merch girl for last two shows, at her home in Los Angeles. Then the good doctor, Mike, and myself continued the drive north to San Luis Obispo County.
 
Finally, a store that sums up my personal philosophy. Who would have thought it would be in San Diego?
All in all it was a killer tour and a lot of fun. I want to take a minute here to especially thank a few people who made it awesome. First off, Relapse for coming through in the clutch, secondly our agent Dan Rozenblum for throwing two separate weeks of shows together at the last possible second, all the promoters that stuck their neck out for us taking these last minute shows, and most importantly - all the killer humanoids who made it out to in Buffalo, Kent, Denver, Cheyenne, Salt Lake City, Boise, Lafayette, Houston, Austin, San Antonio, Midland, Albuquerque, Las Vegas, Hollywood, and San Diego - you guys showed us a lot of love and support when we were in some tight spots and we really appreciate it. Without you guys there, those shows would've sucked!  Anyway, that about wraps up our year. Even though I didn't get to write about all of our misadventures throughout the year, you should have a pretty decent idea of what we're all about and our various trials, tribulations, and triumphs on the road. There are definitely more updates to come, so see you next time, true believers! Same Bat-time, same Bat-channel.
 
Excelsior!
- Matt and the boys.