Apologies to Eddie Izzard. Well, which is it? Cake or death?
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
17 October 2010
17 July 2010
Respect the dead
WARNING: This post is about Death and entirely inappropriate. But you must be used to that by now.
The Chart of the Day death index from Business Insider. It shows the best spot for your final meeting with the Grim Reaper.
In most cultures, it is bad luck to speak ill of the dead. When someone dies, everyone has to pretend to be upset, whether you are or not. Even if the person was a complete dud of a human being like Manto Tshabalala-Msimang, who caused the suffering and death of many, we must pay respect and pretend that it's a sad event that this person passed away.
The only notable exception to this rule seems to be the Adolf Hitler biography. In that case, it was perfectly acceptable not to be upset but to call the spade a fucking shovel. His biography didn't change when he shoved off.
Unlike in films like the Poltergeist and Drag Me to Hell, the dead cannot do anything to you. They are not going to do unsolicited interior decorating while you are trying to sleep. They are not going to take your place in the queue at the supermarket. You're clear on this one.
If he died an asshole, he's a dead asshole. He's not suddenly a dead saint. You can find any number of Kurt Cobain creeps out there who also know 4 chords and who also sound like they're chewing on their own gallbladder. Yet Kurt Cobain had the common courtesy to remove himself from the gene pool, so his songs are genius while the others who sound exactly the same are commercial or uninspired, regardless of when they started writing their camp fire classics with distortion songbook.
If you had a grudge against them and they died, it's too late. It's pointless to be concerned over how they felt about your feud when they died, because they're dead. Maybe you want to pay respect now to ease your conscience. That's all good and well, but it doesn't change anything.
The most bizarre aspect of this sudden sainthood that death brings is that we, the living, are not allowed to be happy or to partake in any debauchery for an unspecified amount of time. Why? Out of respect for a bag of bones. Out of respect for slowly decaying flesh that's only different from the same you find in a butchery by virtue of the fact that it did more than respond to its name by sometimes using yours back at you.
When someone close to me dies, that's exactly when I need debauchery to cheer me up the most.
I don't need respect when I'm dead. I'm dead. In fact, let it be known that I would not want any kind of religious boredom or default metaphysical posthumous vibes towards me at my funeral whatsoever. I'd like my funeral to be a bring en braai with headbanging strippers and an open bar. The first person to get arrested would inherit my estate, but only if they do not respect me all of a sudden because I'm pushing daisies.
The Chart of the Day death index from Business Insider. It shows the best spot for your final meeting with the Grim Reaper.
Why must we respect the dead?
In most cultures, it is bad luck to speak ill of the dead. When someone dies, everyone has to pretend to be upset, whether you are or not. Even if the person was a complete dud of a human being like Manto Tshabalala-Msimang, who caused the suffering and death of many, we must pay respect and pretend that it's a sad event that this person passed away.
The only notable exception to this rule seems to be the Adolf Hitler biography. In that case, it was perfectly acceptable not to be upset but to call the spade a fucking shovel. His biography didn't change when he shoved off.
The dead cannot do anything to you
Unlike in films like the Poltergeist and Drag Me to Hell, the dead cannot do anything to you. They are not going to do unsolicited interior decorating while you are trying to sleep. They are not going to take your place in the queue at the supermarket. You're clear on this one.
It's too late for them to change
If he died an asshole, he's a dead asshole. He's not suddenly a dead saint. You can find any number of Kurt Cobain creeps out there who also know 4 chords and who also sound like they're chewing on their own gallbladder. Yet Kurt Cobain had the common courtesy to remove himself from the gene pool, so his songs are genius while the others who sound exactly the same are commercial or uninspired, regardless of when they started writing their camp fire classics with distortion songbook.
It's too late to bury the hatchett
If you had a grudge against them and they died, it's too late. It's pointless to be concerned over how they felt about your feud when they died, because they're dead. Maybe you want to pay respect now to ease your conscience. That's all good and well, but it doesn't change anything.
You can't do x because someone died
The most bizarre aspect of this sudden sainthood that death brings is that we, the living, are not allowed to be happy or to partake in any debauchery for an unspecified amount of time. Why? Out of respect for a bag of bones. Out of respect for slowly decaying flesh that's only different from the same you find in a butchery by virtue of the fact that it did more than respond to its name by sometimes using yours back at you.
When someone close to me dies, that's exactly when I need debauchery to cheer me up the most.
If that's how you feel, people won't respect you when you're dead
I don't need respect when I'm dead. I'm dead. In fact, let it be known that I would not want any kind of religious boredom or default metaphysical posthumous vibes towards me at my funeral whatsoever. I'd like my funeral to be a bring en braai with headbanging strippers and an open bar. The first person to get arrested would inherit my estate, but only if they do not respect me all of a sudden because I'm pushing daisies.
16 June 2010
24 May 2009
Human by Death review
Last year, I had a Month of Megadeth during May. May is my birthday month so I like to do something special. Something so special that I won't forget it during the inevitable bouts of drinking and debauchery. This year, I'm having a Death Month.
Chuck Schuldiner basically hires Cynic as his backing band and together they craft one of the most skin tearing albums of all time.
The album opens with Sean Reinert's incredible drumming fading in. From there, the riffs exchanged between Chuck and Paul Masvidal are tighter than the fix Government Motors (er, General Motors) finds itself in. Widely regarded as Death's finest moment, I prefer Symbolic but Human is certainly just as flawless.
The lyrics are introspective to the point of becoming existential. They deal with euthanasia, masks people wear to project a desired, distorted image to the world and simply with being human. This prompts some questions about what it means to be human. Are we human because we do human things, or are we human because we are born this way? Alan Turing and John Searle are two bright minds who have answered this question in different ways.
Alan Turing described his Turing test in his paper Computing Machinery and Intelligence.
The Turing test involved three participants: two humans and one computer. One human and one computer are locked in separate rooms. The remaining human poses questions to the inhabitants of each room by typing them into a terminal. The purpose of these questions is to find out which room hosts the human and which the machine. Turing suggests that when the computer can fool the player to think that its room hosts a human, the computer would have passed the Turing test.
Turing seems to suggest that we are human because we do human things. Thus, if a computer were to do the same human things and can fool us into believing it is human, it would be as good as human. Basically, computers would be human when we say they are human and we can decide when and how they are to become human. Thus, computers would become human because Stone Cold says so.
Stone Cold Steve Austin. According to Turing, computers become human when Stone Cold says so.
This avoids the issue a little - something that Turing no doubt knew, but he probably avoided the issue in this way for the practical purposes of building imitation humans. Philosopher John Searle is not happy with this arrangement.
John Searle presents his Chinese Room argument in his paper Minds, Brains, and Programs. Searle proposes a scenario whereby artificial intelligence has evolved to the point where one such system can be taught fluent Chinese. The system is hosted inside a room and comfortably passes the Turing test by conversing with a human Chinese speaker outside the room.
According to Searle, the machine merely did symbol manipulating according to algorithms. Some proponents of strong AI would reason that the computer passed the Turing test as it understands Chinese. However, Searle turns the experiment around by suggesting that he himself is in a room with all the tools he would need to translate Chinese - dictionaries, pencils, paper, etc. He would be able to translate any Chinese characters which came through the door without understanding a world of Chinese. Searle argues that since he clearly does not understand a word of Chinese, yet can translate Chinese into English with the appropriate algorithms and tools, we have to conclude that the Chinese computer does not necessarily understand Chinese either.
Yet failing the Turing test does not make us less human and more machine. Searle seems to suggest that we aren't human merely because we do human things and no amount of nurture can give machines human nature. Not even when Stone Cold says so.
Conclusion
Chuck Schuldiner basically hires Cynic as his backing band and together they craft one of the most skin tearing albums of all time.
Review
The album opens with Sean Reinert's incredible drumming fading in. From there, the riffs exchanged between Chuck and Paul Masvidal are tighter than the fix Government Motors (er, General Motors) finds itself in. Widely regarded as Death's finest moment, I prefer Symbolic but Human is certainly just as flawless.
The lyrics are introspective to the point of becoming existential. They deal with euthanasia, masks people wear to project a desired, distorted image to the world and simply with being human. This prompts some questions about what it means to be human. Are we human because we do human things, or are we human because we are born this way? Alan Turing and John Searle are two bright minds who have answered this question in different ways.
The Turing Test
Alan Turing described his Turing test in his paper Computing Machinery and Intelligence.
The Turing test involved three participants: two humans and one computer. One human and one computer are locked in separate rooms. The remaining human poses questions to the inhabitants of each room by typing them into a terminal. The purpose of these questions is to find out which room hosts the human and which the machine. Turing suggests that when the computer can fool the player to think that its room hosts a human, the computer would have passed the Turing test.
Turing seems to suggest that we are human because we do human things. Thus, if a computer were to do the same human things and can fool us into believing it is human, it would be as good as human. Basically, computers would be human when we say they are human and we can decide when and how they are to become human. Thus, computers would become human because Stone Cold says so.
Stone Cold Steve Austin. According to Turing, computers become human when Stone Cold says so.
This avoids the issue a little - something that Turing no doubt knew, but he probably avoided the issue in this way for the practical purposes of building imitation humans. Philosopher John Searle is not happy with this arrangement.
Searle's Chinese Room
John Searle presents his Chinese Room argument in his paper Minds, Brains, and Programs. Searle proposes a scenario whereby artificial intelligence has evolved to the point where one such system can be taught fluent Chinese. The system is hosted inside a room and comfortably passes the Turing test by conversing with a human Chinese speaker outside the room.
According to Searle, the machine merely did symbol manipulating according to algorithms. Some proponents of strong AI would reason that the computer passed the Turing test as it understands Chinese. However, Searle turns the experiment around by suggesting that he himself is in a room with all the tools he would need to translate Chinese - dictionaries, pencils, paper, etc. He would be able to translate any Chinese characters which came through the door without understanding a world of Chinese. Searle argues that since he clearly does not understand a word of Chinese, yet can translate Chinese into English with the appropriate algorithms and tools, we have to conclude that the Chinese computer does not necessarily understand Chinese either.
Yet failing the Turing test does not make us less human and more machine. Searle seems to suggest that we aren't human merely because we do human things and no amount of nurture can give machines human nature. Not even when Stone Cold says so.
Track listing
- Flattening of Emotions
- Suicide Machine
- Together as One
- Secret Face
- Lack of Comprehension
- See Through Dreams
- Cosmic Sea (Instrumental)
- Vacant Planets
Personnel
- Steve DiGiorgio: fretless bass.
- Paul Masvidal: guitar
- Sean Reinert: drums.
- Chuck Schuldiner: guitar, vocals, production.
Rating
20 May 2009
Sound of Perseverance by Death review
Last year, I had a Month of Megadeth during May. May is my birthday month so I like to do something special. Something so special that I won't forget it during the inevitable bouts of drinking and debauchery. This year, I'm having a Death Month.
Unfortunately, due to Chuck Schuldiner's untimely demise, this album is the last Death album. Fortunately, it shows Death still at the height of their game.
There's not much you can do after making a stellar skin tearing, eyeball boiling album like Symbolic. Except perhaps to intensify the skin tearing and eyeball boiling. Even after listening to a few prior Death albums non-stop for a few weeks and familiarising myself with them, this album still took me by surprise. Usually, I'm like a Ninja and not much takes me by surprise. Except surprise itself. Must be my raging caffeine addiction.
Despite all the sandal melting metal, there is also the painfully beautiful melancholy of Voice of the Soul, a guitar instrumental track. Simply ineffable.
Death must be one of the few metal bands from their era where you can hear and appreciate the bass guitar. I blame Metallica for the inaudible bass trend. I also blame them for the gay pride march.
It has come to my attention that Richard Christy regularly peruses the fine scriptures of Vault of Horror. I've always had my suspicions that Richard is a man who appreciates the finer things in life. This judging by his choice of bands (Iced Earth and Death) and his encyclopaedic knowledge of pornography.
So the fans of Vault of Horror may be pleasing to the ear, but are they as pleasing to the eye as the fans of The Necro Files?
Anne Lindfjeld is a professional model and it's about time that she becomes a Playboy bunny. Just look at those awesome tats! You can find out more about Anne here:
This is what Anne had to say about The Necro Files:
"That's a good blog you've got going there."
In your FACE Vault of Mordor!
And Anne Lindfjeld can get 5 rating skulls:
Conclusion
Unfortunately, due to Chuck Schuldiner's untimely demise, this album is the last Death album. Fortunately, it shows Death still at the height of their game.
Review
There's not much you can do after making a stellar skin tearing, eyeball boiling album like Symbolic. Except perhaps to intensify the skin tearing and eyeball boiling. Even after listening to a few prior Death albums non-stop for a few weeks and familiarising myself with them, this album still took me by surprise. Usually, I'm like a Ninja and not much takes me by surprise. Except surprise itself. Must be my raging caffeine addiction.
Despite all the sandal melting metal, there is also the painfully beautiful melancholy of Voice of the Soul, a guitar instrumental track. Simply ineffable.
Death must be one of the few metal bands from their era where you can hear and appreciate the bass guitar. I blame Metallica for the inaudible bass trend. I also blame them for the gay pride march.
Richard Christy versus Anne Lindfjeld
It has come to my attention that Richard Christy regularly peruses the fine scriptures of Vault of Horror. I've always had my suspicions that Richard is a man who appreciates the finer things in life. This judging by his choice of bands (Iced Earth and Death) and his encyclopaedic knowledge of pornography.
So the fans of Vault of Horror may be pleasing to the ear, but are they as pleasing to the eye as the fans of The Necro Files?
Anne Lindfjeld is a professional model and it's about time that she becomes a Playboy bunny. Just look at those awesome tats! You can find out more about Anne here:
This is what Anne had to say about The Necro Files:
"That's a good blog you've got going there."
In your FACE Vault of Mordor!
Track listing
- Scavenger of Human Sorrow
- Bite the Pain
- Spirit Crusher
- Story to Tell
- Flesh and the Power It Holds
- Voice of the Soul (Instrumental)
- To Forgive Is to Suffer
- A Moment of Clarity
- Painkiller (Judas Priest cover)
Personnel
- Richard Christy: drums.
- Scott Clendenin: bass guitar.
- Shannon Hamm: guitar.
- Chuck Schuldiner: vocals, guitar, acoustic guitar.
Rating
And Anne Lindfjeld can get 5 rating skulls:
19 May 2009
Symbolic by Death review
Last year, I had a Month of Megadeth during May. May is my birthday month so I like to do something special. Something so special that I won't forget it during the inevitable bouts of drinking and debauchery. This year, I'm having a Death Month.
This is one of those desert island disks. If a time capsule of our time is ever discovered, I would like for whoever digs it up to find some Death albums in there to create the impression that this is the kind of quality we appreciated in our time. None of that Pop Idol shyte, although they are plastic enough not to be biodegradable so they'd probably outlast any time capsule.
The legendary Chuck Schuldiner and the Atomic Clock Gene Hoglan. As if that's not enough to make with the metal horns, Kelly Conlon plays bass and Bobby Koelble trades some impressive Cockzilla monster cock size riffs with Chuck.
As is typical of Death, the album is as good as the musicians who play with Chuck. If they can keep up with Chuck's pure and simple genius, the album is a killer. They manage to do that here. There's not a single note that sounds out of place on this album. Symbolic reminds me of the cryogenic South African news reader Riaan Cruywagen's hairstyle:
As you can clearly see, nothing out of place there. Symbolic also reminds me of Death cigarettes. Not because of the nearly identical name, but because both the band and the cigarette are lethal and brutally honest about it.
Death cigarettes. I don't smoke, but if I did, that would be my brand.
To me, this is a very underrated album - even allmusic gives Symbolic a mediocre rating. Most people prefer Human or The Sound of Perseverance, but to me, Symbolic is as good as Death gets. Except maybe for an eternity spent in Valhalla.
Conclusion
This is one of those desert island disks. If a time capsule of our time is ever discovered, I would like for whoever digs it up to find some Death albums in there to create the impression that this is the kind of quality we appreciated in our time. None of that Pop Idol shyte, although they are plastic enough not to be biodegradable so they'd probably outlast any time capsule.
Review
The legendary Chuck Schuldiner and the Atomic Clock Gene Hoglan. As if that's not enough to make with the metal horns, Kelly Conlon plays bass and Bobby Koelble trades some impressive Cockzilla monster cock size riffs with Chuck.
As is typical of Death, the album is as good as the musicians who play with Chuck. If they can keep up with Chuck's pure and simple genius, the album is a killer. They manage to do that here. There's not a single note that sounds out of place on this album. Symbolic reminds me of the cryogenic South African news reader Riaan Cruywagen's hairstyle:
As you can clearly see, nothing out of place there. Symbolic also reminds me of Death cigarettes. Not because of the nearly identical name, but because both the band and the cigarette are lethal and brutally honest about it.
Death cigarettes. I don't smoke, but if I did, that would be my brand.
To me, this is a very underrated album - even allmusic gives Symbolic a mediocre rating. Most people prefer Human or The Sound of Perseverance, but to me, Symbolic is as good as Death gets. Except maybe for an eternity spent in Valhalla.
Track listing
- Symbolic
- Zero Tolerance
- Empty Words
- Sacred Serenity
- 1000 Eyes
- Without Judgement
- Crystal Mountain
- Misanthrope
- Perennial Quest
Personnel
- Kelly Conlon: bass.
- Gene Hoglan: drums.
- Bobby Koelble: guitars.
- Chuck Schuldiner: vocals, guitars, production.
Rating
17 April 2008
Completely Inappropriate Synopses of Selected Steven Spielberg Films
Steven Spielberg, one of the most celebrated directors of our time.
This evolved out of a forum game. The purpose of the game is to provide a completely inappropriate synopsis for movies. This inappropriate synopsis should either
- spoil the plot
- offend the reader
- offend the writer
- offend the reader, offend the writer and spoil the plot
- be otherwise inappropriate
If you sugar-coated a synopsis with quiet diplomacy and politically correct terms and it still had a foul politically incorrect stench, you are on the right track.
Reminds me of a similar game president Robert Mugabe and president Thabo Mbeki like to play with people's lives, namely give a completely inappropriate synopsis of the current state of your country.
My version of completely inappropriate movie synopses will not endanger human lives (other than my own, perhaps) and is less hurtful. But not much.
I did not try to be as politically incorrect as I could, but I did try to step on a few toes. To aid me in my quest, I looked at a list of isms political correctness tries to sweep under the carpet:
- ageism – I somehow missed this one
- racism – check
- religious intolerance - check
- sexism – check
- xenophobia – check
If your toes are hurting after reading these, I achieved my purpose.
The politically incorrect and completely inappropriate guide to selected Steven Spielberg films
Film poster for Jews. I mean, Jaws.
Jaws
This Darwinian view on the potential outcome of global warming where the whiteys get mauled by a gigantic great white shark for their colonialist ways doesn't have a single brother who gets killed. Everyone knows black people can't swim. That's what you get for going against nature and putting your white ass where Jesus didn't put it. This movie does have a great white, but it's not you. Ha ha, honky! Ha ha!
Close Encounters of the Third Kind
A man and his faeces cake get abducted by aliens who like Jean Michel Jarre way too much. Xenu tricks him with fancy lights, fancy aeronautics and the smell of patchouli to sacrifice his rectum willingly to their advanced science, elongated appendages and culinary skills they clearly abducted from the French. The search for one intergalactic faeces cake to bind them all.
E.T - The Extra-Terrestrial
An illegal alien who actually wants to leave America, the land of opportunity. He skips the tardy queues at the immigration office by calling his parents to pick him up and take him back to Mexico. That's somewhere in Africa, right?
Poltergeist
Dabblers in the occult get what they deserve. Amen, Jesus. Amen.
Gremlins
The heart warming tale of a man and his gerbils. Features a few good reasons why men shouldn't cook. Contains scenes of suggested felching.
The Color Purple
In this tale about the ordeal one Muslim woman had to endure during the crusades, Whoopi Goldberg proves that as a black person, she only got that Affirmative Action Oscar because she has a Jewish surname. Welcome to Hollywood.
Hook
Freud gets his day when a grown man prefers to live a life of frolicking with prepubescent boys instead of living with a woman of his own age who is willing to smell his farts, cook his food and clean his house. Maybe she reminds him of his mother and living with little boys is easier than living with his guilt. I pray that Jesus delivers this man from his homosexual abominations before he is old enough to wear nappies again. Amen, Jesus. Amen.
Schindler's List
A near black and white comedy based on life in Nazi Germany, which is transformed into a tragedy when a German soldier dies.
Amistad
Amistad proves that making films about Jewish suffrage is more profitable than making films about black people being exploited. It is fashionable to hate Nazis, but it's not fashionable to hate slave drivers when they are so close to home. The movie features black people from the 1800s. They couldn't swim back then and they can't swim now.
A.I: Artificial Intelligence
One of Hollywood's best directors delivers one of his best projects. Pity Spielberg had to get involved to turn Kubrick's final project into another boy and his alienation (alien nation?) film. Not even the advanced robotics portrayed in the film could make the gay white android dance. Black people can't swim, white people can't dance. Not even as gay androids. Amen, Charles Darwin. Amen.
Minority Report
This is a futuristic documentary about the kind of dystopian life Tom Cruise and Scientology want for us all. For our own good. Amen, L Ron Hubbard. Amen.
Another completely inappropriate synopsis
Yes, the three little pigs is offensive and completely inappropriate. I wonder how inappropriate it is since Green Jelly mixed it with secular rock music?
Now that's completely inappropriate for a niche blog dedicated to heavy metal albums and horror films. Racism, xenophobia, sexism, ageism and religious intolerance is one thing. Actually, they are five things, but secular rock music is another thing all together. I think I crossed the line this time. Don't despair, there will be more heavy metal and horror films as soon as I burnt all my Fleetwood Mac LPs.
Completely Inappropriate Links
- Baa, baa black sheep. Yes, it is ageism at its worst. Or was that religious intolerance? Whatever.
- Suffolk Center of the Holocaust, Diversity & Human Understanding . I shit you not.
- The three little pigs story offends nappy-headed hos and thus the UK refuses to transmit this harmful meme in its schools. Well, as a vegetarian I'm offended by phrases such as: "Behead those who insult salami!". Or was that: "Behead those who insult Islam?". I can never remember.
- Top 10 politically incorrect phrases of 2007. Good for a laugh. In Australia, you can't say:"Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas!". You have to say: "Ha, ha, ha!". Well, I just did.
- Roald Dahl's The Three Little Pigs. Now THAT is offensive. Xenophobia in rhyme, no less.
06 April 2008
Darker Days Ahead by Terrorizer (2006) Review
Conclusion
Pete Sandoval on drums and the Mexecutioner, Jesse Pintado, on guitar for the last album he recorded before he sadly passed away due to a liver that couldn't keep up with the party. It is the only grindcore album I own, and my knowledge of the genre is limited to singing along to a few Anal Blast songs, so take my review with a pinch of salt and a shot of tequila. But I like it.
After recently reading up on clostridium botulinum, I decided this little fellow is so awesome that I had to dedicate most of my new layout to the bacterium. You may know c.botulinum as food poisoning or Botox, but I know it as the cause of botulism. Probably the most toxic substance known, a 2 kg bag of c.botulinum has enough potential to destroy mankind. Cthulhu would however make for a more cinematic apocalypse.
That's what could be lurking in your baked beans. Image taken from marlerblog.com.
According to the Centre for Disease Control and Prevention, some of the favourite party tricks of c.botulinum include:
- double vision
- drooping eyelids
- slurred speech
- dry mouth
- difficult swallowing
- muscle weakness, and eventually muscular paralysis
Quite a little terrorizer.
Review
- All of the music is written by Pete Sandoval (Morbid Angel) and Jesse Pintado. Expect killer riffs and lots of brutality, although I found for the most part this album is less taxing than most grindcore out there. Read: sick, but slightly more melodic. If you are a grindcore purist, this might not be a good thing. I mean all the tracks are longer than a minute.
- Pete Sandoval's drumming may cause double vision.
- Anthony Rezhawk does a rasp of Cerberus similar to Steve Tucker's very own bark. Could just be my recent overdose of Morbid Angel, but this is the kind of growling I like. He also wrote all the lyrics. In proud grindcore tradition, a couple of verses are offered, after which the song title is repeated a few times. This is not rocket science, but it is good for shaking your fist. I said Cerberus, not cerebral.
- Ghost Train is a kind of piano and skull-fucking double bass pedal drumming interlude. The kind that would make Jaws float upside down. This track could cause drooping eyelids. Even for sharks.
- Apocalyptic visions delivered in slurred speech, with a slight tequila and mescaline nasal drip. Ah, tequila. Just the thing for a dry mouth.
- The fact that all the tracks are longer than a minute makes for difficult swallowing. Similar to health drugs. But that's only if you are a grindcore purist. Sandoval plays in one of the founding bands of technical death, so a little meandering is expected with the brutality. Rest assured - there's enough complexity to merit an average of 3,5 minutes per track.
- Muscle weakness? No, there's not much of that here. This is a review for Terrorizer, not c.botulinum. But if you've ever had one of those 24 hour fill-station shop pies, I'm sure you could write a good review of c.botulinum, or at least salmonella enteritidis.
Track listing
- Inevitable
- Darker Days Ahead
- Crematorium
- Fallout
- Doomed Forever
- Mayhem
- Blind Army
- Nightmare
- Legacy of Brutality
- Dead Shall Rise V.06
- Victim of Greed
- Ghost Train
Personell
- Tony Norman: bass; vocals.
- Jesse Pintado: guitar.
- Anthony Rezhawk: vocals.
- Pete Sandoval: drums.
Rating
19 January 2008
Necrophagist - Epitaph (2004) review
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Review
Since the days Ritchie Blackmore played classically inspired leads for Deep Purple, a neo-classical movement has erupted in popular music. Yngwie Malmsteen became synonymous with the movement thanks to his high level of technical virtuosity, particularly his sweep arpeggios. Since then, the cheese has been cut back considerably but the sweep picking technique remains a trusted item in the metal guitarist bag of tricks.
Necrophagist released their debut, Onset of Putrefaction, in 1999. Suiçmez played and recorded most of the instruments on the album and left the drum duties to Steve Jobs. The sound on the album is lacking, and of course for this kind of music having a machine do any work is a disgrace. The album has recently been re-recorded by Suiçmez, who was never pleased with its sound. Despite this, the album caught on well with fans of brutally technical music.
Following the relative success of Onset of Putrefaction, Suiçmez assembled a band of session musicians and toured extensively. Epitaph was recorded after the tour, mostly with live musicians.
You will be completely arpeggionated after listening to Epitaph. Suiçmez is an incredibly skilled and amazingly tasteful guitarist - enough so that Ibanez designed their Xiphos guitar with him:
The lyrics deal with your standard death metal fanfare of death and destruction. That much is compulsory, but the riffs drip with melody. All the arpeggios provided by guitarist and bassist (and one could almost claim the drummer too) are enough to confuse a nest of killer bees. There is a feeling of very strictly organised chaos in every track. Picture the nest of killer bees getting confused and then proceeding to fly along sine graphs, cosine graphs and a host of other hypnotic trajectories to torment a ferret on a raft in the Limpopo river. Despite the fact that Africa does not have killer bees. Or ferrets. Basically, imagine extremely mathematical noise.
Conclusion
Suiçmez is a fair vocalist, clearly from the Melissa Cross school of screeching, but applies these methods to gargling and growling. The technical skills on display with this album are on par with that of Vital Remains, with Necrophagist being far less brutal. It lends itself to the Cynic school of odd rhythms, syncopated palm mutes and aristocratic drumming. There is a great variety of styles on display. Even though the album is barely longer than half an hour, it doesn't leave one with a feeling of emptiness once it is over. In fact, you want to listen to it on repeat.
Track listing
- Stabwound
- The Stillborn One
- Ignominious & Pale
- Diminished to B
- Epitaph
- Only Ash Remains
- Seven
- Symbiotic in Theory
Personell
Muhammed Suiçmez: Guitar; vocals.
Christian Muenzner: Guitar.
Stefan Fimmers: Bass guitar.
Hannes Grossmann: Drums.
And in case you were wondering, my personality type:
| INTJ - "Mastermind". Introverted intellectual with a preference for finding certainty. A builder of systems and the applier of theoretical models. 2.1% of total population. |
Rating
05 January 2008
Shock (1953) review
Director
Alfred L. Werker
Cast
Frank Latimore
Lynn Bari
Vincent Price
Anabel Shaw
Charles Trowbridge
Shop for Vincent Price films on DVD at Amazon.com!
Plot
Janet Stewart (Anabel Shaw) lapses into a state of Shock after witnessing a murder. Her concerned boyfriend finds her unable to speak, unable to cook and unable to clean. The unable to speak part soon loses its novelty and he becomes perturbed because she is unable to cook or clean. Instead of becoming sexually liberated, he decides to seek help in the form of Dr Cross (Vincent Price), a specialist on afflictions of the mind, among them Shock. It turns out Janet witnessed a murder and the gruesome details of the horrendous crime left her in a state of Shock. Dr Cross offers to help Janet in his private asylum, but all is not ponies and rainbows, nay nay. As Janet comes to her senses, slowly regaining her ability to perform minor domestic tasks, she recognises Dr Cross as the perpetrator. More Shock!
Review
Vincent Price is the undisputed king of horror actors. If his eerie hypnotic voice and intimidating tall frame are not enough to give anyone the creeps, his Brylcreem hair most definitely is. Shock is a film noir film. This does not necessarily equate it with the glamour of Hollywood, but it does have vintage black and white charm.
The performances are over the top, with long Pinter pauses during dialogue. Likewise, the exaggerated gestures contribute to the otherworldly feel of the film. The film is dated, but give Shock some credit - it came out in 1953. I think the plot is a brilliant idea and even listed it as one of the films I feel Hollywood should remake. Some peculiar innovation is evident in the dream sequence. It is always fascinating to see how much variation the limits of black and white offer.
The over the top performances are a pleasure. At one point, the doctor who first discovers Janet concludes: "I think she suffers from ... Shock. All it needs is a little DUN dun DUUUUUN! each time the word shock is mentioned, although I admit it might detract from the dramatic irony.
Those interested in how gender roles were instilled by the media during the fifties would note what a sweet housewife Janet portrays. Even in her dreams, she has a man who is ready to sweep her off her feet while she is content to sweep nothing but the porch. Her man is a working man, and one in uniform no less. What an Utopian domestic vision.
Conclusion
The film is dated. Vincent Price is as charismatic as usual. This alone makes Shock worth seeing. The film is not particularly graphic, relying more on the suspenseful feeling of 'what-if' doctors are reckless with their authority.
Rating
18 November 2007
NILE - Ithyphallic
Nile finally enjoys major label support after one Ozzy Osbourne (the artist formerly known as the Prince of Darkness, now just known as Sharon's hunchback slave) desanctified them for his Ozzfest. After miraculously surviving the outbreak of mall brats, a few line-up changes and Sharon's Banshee whining at the behest of ca$h registers in a fit of rage, Nile manages to deliver another sphinx-spanking album.
Expect supreme technical Death Metal, the masterly drumming of George Kollias, the exotic scales and even more exotic instruments of Herr Sanders and hymns unto Cthulhu. All the brilliant harmonies and amazing acoustics beside, what could possibly beat hymns unto Cthulhu?
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