If you’ve ever done any dating over the internet, met coital prospects in a bar or compared the sticker price of a new automobile with what you actually end up paying, you know that nothing is ever the way it seems. That super-hot, sex-kitten with the cum-hither look and never-ending supply of barely-there kinkwear she’s displaying in her plentyoffish.com profile pics… well, she delicately failed to mention that was actually her four years ago before developing an unconquerable addiction to platinum blonde hair dye, the KFC value menu and crème-filled donuts. I knew a guy who would scramble through the waste bin adjacent to bank machines, hold on to the receipts of other dudes with big bulging bank accounts and when he’d go to bar to hit on and pick up women, he’d always write his number on the back of a bank slip showing that “he” had insane amounts of money sitting in the bank. He may be a lying scumbag, but the gold diggers bought it and flocked and he got laid. A lot. Ever buy a new car? When the hell aren’t there a million additional fees and charges tacked on to that “low, low advertised price?” Ever watch an interview with a pro athlete? When the fuck has one of those clowns ever said what’s really on his/her mind?
The music world is filled with similar smoke and mirrors acts. We’re told over and over and over again that so-and-so’s new album is the one that’ll re-define the genre. How many times have you heard in the last couple years that this-and-that’s “stunning” comeback album is “highly anticipated” and their best yet? Better than Bonded by Blood? Not bloody likely! The lies haven’t stop piling up since the music industry released its ad campaign for Elvis’ second record and this month’s Rimshots lifts the veil, cuts through the crap and saves you some money and/or hard drive space.
Saying “…gestates hazy distortion and psychedelic textures into mesmerizing atmosphere far more desolate than any other conventional black metal band” is a nice slice of well-written prose that does an excellent job masking that a See ‘N’ Say made in backwoods China has better production value than this and how the basement black metal elite will find their vas deferens’ in a knotted tizzy when they discover the similarities between parts of “Lifetaker” and Megadave’s “Hanger 18.”
That I couldn’t find any self-hyping quotes about this “epic power metal” band who recorded this album with a symphony orchestra and a choir means that they’re either 1) really humble or; 2) the smartest dudes ever.
THE CLAN DESTINED
In The Big Ending
“The Clan Destined is a creative venture extremely different from anything which has ever been witnessed before… an international collective of talented and like-minded Pagan individuals from all around the world who have gathered together both to make our art and make a difference!” Great. Just what the world needs, a bunch of communal living hippies playing metal. My initial reaction is to ask you to vomit your porterhouse steak dinner directly into my urethra, but this is actually pretty good for a bunch people with an adversity to showering.
Saints Of The Greatest Sin
YEAR OF THE SUN
When a band claims, “this isn’t safe music and it doesn’t pretend to be. [The album] conceptually paints a bleak and upsetting picture of the world… [and] is an unrelenting white wash of uncertainty and foreboding” I can’t help but think the world would be a lot less upsetting without MMA.
KOBRA AND THE LOTUS
Out Of The Pit
KOBRA MUSIC INC.
Apparently, a band describing itself as having a “sinewy, sultry sound…usher[ing] in a new era of heavy music,” is code for a singer who can’t stay in key fronting guitarists who haven’t learned to tune their guitars.
When a band tags themselves as “sonic black magik,” and claims, “it doesn’t get much more pure than this” I have to question the definition of purity. The other day I took a massive dump comprised of rock solid fecal matter – 100% purity on the shit-pure-o-meter – and it was pretty awesome to feel four pounds lighter after simply spending 10 minutes reading a magazine.
MY OWN GRAVE
Okay, so this album “will arguably be one of the elite releases in 2009” and yes, we can be chided for reviewing this who-knows-how-long-after-the-fact, but it’s safe to say there’s still a lot of arguing going on.
From Hell To Texas
They’re supposedly masquerading as a rock band of some description (my description: not a very good one), but it doesn’t matter what they or anyone says because Nashville Pussy has always been as excuse for me to ogle Amazonian women with canyon-like cleavage and experience the rare feeling of not being the biggest perv in the room.
Metal Of Honor
Does a band describing itself as “pro-U.S., military-themed metal” get tour support from Dick Cheney and the Halliburton Corporation?
“‘Through Tomorrow’ embarks audiences on a journey through life’s toils and snares” and supposedly gives the hope of eventually losing one’s virginity to a bunch of dudes who dress like Jon Gosselin and sound like the masculine version of Evanescence.
THIS BROKEN MACHINE
Songs About Chaos
Their website says “TBM is a band relied upon the idiosyncrasies of a group of friends, their precarious balance between interests, tastes and priorities is the incentive for an ongoing evolution.” Dude, my friends fucking suck sometimes too. And they like Tool. Wankers.
CHEW THE LEG OFF
The Hellbound.ca decoder has figured out that: “a sophisticated heavy sound” = “a frigging sloppy mess that sounds like a groove metal Lamb of God.’ And, “…unlike that of most of today’s contemporary loud music” = “never actually being in time with one another.” Thank you.
UNLEASH THE ARCHERS
Behold The Devestation
When you “transcend the boundaries of conventional heavy music genres” this purportedly means you try to cram 15 pounds of influence in a five-pound bag with no idea that you have to actually open the bag and shake it out before you start attempting to stuff the whole fucking world into it.
WE, THE UNDERSIGNED
Bleed The Constants
“Boasting an array of metal/rock stylings, We, the Undersigned are set to dredge the stagnant waters of music’s auto-tuned leaches…bordering the thin divide between inanity and insanity,” is just the funky way of trying to convince the world we really need another Every Time I Die.