Friday, May 20, 2005

first day of summer break, so naturally it's barely 50 degrees out with a thick grey overcast. i win again.

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

Album Review;

The Red Chord - Clients

in the three years since Boston's the Red Chord released their Converge meets Cryptopsy debut Fused Together in Revovling Doors, an onslaught of so-called grind/metalcore hybrid bands seemed to crawl up from the gutters of meidcority, exposing their lifeless carbon copy of a sound that kicked my ass the first time i heard it. Glass Casket. Between the Buried and Me. Deadwater Drowing. Into the Moat. all there. all terrible.

when a style becomes a xerox of a xeroxed xerox, it loses it's sharpness, it's luster. i was worried that the Red Chord would fall into the crowd of faceless wannabes they in some respect helped create.

that has not happened.

Clients is the Red Chord teaching the new breed of hybrid metal bands a lesson on how to do this shit the right way. from mosh riff to blast beat, everything is in perfect balance. there is no sense of dumbing things down to appeal to the pit-babies and bro-metal loving mongoloids, nor is their a sense of pretensious over-the-top quirky experimentation to appeal to snobby eltists whose heads are so far up their asses they can't see the stupidity of over-intelectualizing hardcore punk and metal albums. it picks up right where the debut left off, dragging the gory remains of the bodies that album destroyed further down the street, leaving the bloody corpse for all to view (the final track on the album, a 7 and half minute stoner-rock instrumental is called "He Was Dead When I Got There", so the metaphor makes sense, faggot.)

the lyrical concept is also rather interesting. the only way i can think of to explain it is this; imagine Fight Club without Tyler Durden. imagine Swimming with Sharks where Kevin Spacey is never taken hostage. imagine Taxi Driver or Falling Down if Travis and D-Fens would have just kept driving. now imagine walking around in their minds, looking at the graffiti tattooing the walls of their brains. that graffiti might resemble something akin to the lyrics of Clients.

when "I Hate You All More Than You'll Ever Know" is bellowed in the middle of "Blue Line Cretin", that pretty much sums up everything. about the copycats. about the nay-sayers. about everyone else.

the Red Chord have proven themselves to be the only band in their genre that truly matters.

Sunday, May 15, 2005

i've reavulated my opinion on Chuck Palahniuk.

i'm done with him.

maybe it's because i've grown up. maybe it's because he hasn't. either way, i've finally succumbed to the backlash i fought against for the last 2/3 years.

Haunted was better than his last 3 books, but it still lacked depth and had lame, one dimensional characters. it had no drama, no development, nothing really interesting or exciting. it was a collection of moderatley amusing gross-out tales that made me giggle, ocassionaly whince, but overal left not a bad taste in my left no taste at all. i felt like i read the treatment for an HBO series as opposed to a work of literature. i know that Palahniuk prides his "minimialist" style, but that's no excuse for boring characters. it's diet splatter fiction. it acts more as a vessel for his inane adolescent fantasies about masturbation and sex dolls than it does an effective piece of social commentary, which anyone can she he was shooting for but odviously he got lost in the fun of "ooo this 'll gross 'em out."

Palahniuk has pretty much turned into a junk-food author along the lines of Stephen King, Anne Rice, and the like. he's turned into the same thing Tyler Durden railed against;a corporation. a marketing gimmick. he's more preoccupied with churning out pointless shock fiction than writing something really interesting. i'm sure his groupies, fan-boys, and Trent Reznor think he's the literary titan of our times and will eat up any community college writing workshop exercise about poo and pee he publishes, but i'm pretty much done with him.

i loved Fight Club,Survivor, and Invisible Monsters, but there's about a million other books by a million other authors i have to read before i even consider taking an interest in anything Palahniuk comes up with in the near future.

he doesn't need my buisness anyway, what with the video games and musicals and t-shirt sales and all.

you are your fucking Khakis.