“As 2015 makes her grand and stately entrance, bear with and support me as I try to hunt down even more new blackened death metal albums that sound exactly like Septicflesh.” Madam X has her foibles, but she also has plenty of quirks. Join her as she unveils a Top Ten(ish) list sure to bumfuzzle and befuddle.
“Record(s) o’ the Month here at Angry Metal Guy can be tricky. This is partially because I hold on to the right to dictate them with an iron fist despite being busy, and partially because… no, that’s pretty much it. I’m a busy guy, Record(s) o’ the Month take time, and I refuse to let anyone else actually do them. You might wonder why, and I’ll tell you: are you aware of how many positive reviews Jørn Lande has gotten at AngryMetalGuy.com? I assure you, this hellhole of subjectivity we call “AMG” for short is a hive of gibbering Jørn fanboys-and-girls. It’s absurd, I know! But with that in mind it should be easy to understand how difficult it is be for me to relinquish control over the sacred Record o’ the Month post. Nay, certainly doing such a thing is a greater threat to the sanctity and continued credibility of Angry Metal Guy than most anything.” Will Angry Metal Guy maintain a shred of credibility, or will the Jørn apologists win again!?
“It pains me to say it, but the best American rock band hails from Norway. Their name is Audrey Horne and they’re mercy ruling the competition out of the game. This brilliant, idiot-manchild side project of Ice Dale (Enslaved) and Thomas Tofthagen (Sahg) has blazed a shockingly catchy trail of pure rock lunacy since 2005s Confessions and Alcohol. Their eponymous 2010 album was a positively brilliant amalgam of Faith No More and Stone Temple Pilots, surpassed only by 2013s Youngblood for skin snagging hooks and mega memorable rock anthems. This is the kind of band that serves up frothy, foamy good times music with so much swagger they can barely walk in a straight line. That’s right, it’s big pimpin, hard rocking, dirty rolling, greasy rock that sticks to the ribs and makes you cooler just by listening.” Resistance is futile, you will be converted to the Horde of Horne.
“As I gaze out the windows of the AMG offices (located hundreds of miles beneath the Earth’s crust, so I’m not sure why we have windows), I can’t help but wistfully reflect on my time with this fine metal institution. In just a few short years, the site has gone from one man’s labor of love to a major force in the metal blogosphere with a staff of ten dedicated writers, and though the journey wasn’t always easy, it’s been exceedingly interesting and rewarding.” Follow along as Steel Druhm gets maudlin, waxes nostalgic and grudgingly drops his Top Ten(ish) for 2013. A Two Kleenex read!
“In my (vain)glorious time at AMG Conglomerated, I’ve written off almost every year as a substandard time for quality metal. While some of that criticism was well founded, 2013 was the most craptastic year so far! The first half was the ultimate in lackluster and underwhelming, with many major players releasing flat, uninspiring platters. Hell, even the mythical Amorphis fell off their Pedestal of I-ruhn with a dull thud. While the back end of 2013 picked up the quality dramatically, it wasn’t enough to redeem a very sub par year.” Join the all knowing Steel Druhm as he takes you on a whirlwind tour of the best of a fairly crappy year in metal. Yes, 2013 kind of blew, get over it!
“Talk about stereotypes. Let me provide you with the keywords: Swedish, death, metal, riffs. You get the picture: forty minutes of carefully packed distortions and growls to dance the night away, while remembering the good old days. Days when the underground was a truly transnational parallel world (trust me: I’ve seen it) connecting the various scenes at a sub-level: one carefully avoided by the majors, the media and almost all of your friends (the cool ones, at least).” Join Alex as he reminisces about the good old days, where death metal was … well… underground and uncool.
So as everyone from the southern hemisphere has apparently noticed, a record of the month for February has not actually be chosen. This is, honestly, because the month really didn’t shine like one would hope it would have. Not to say that none of the records were good or even very good – they were! — but while others at the blog were fairly enthusiastic about certain releases, none of them really reached the heights that I think they should have to be awarded with the Record o’ the Month with ease. Still, a tradition is a tradition, and Angry Metal Readers have been pestering me non-stop about it. So, here it is.
Of all Mike Patton’s project, Tomahawk is the one I appreciate the least. Let’s be unprofessionally honest from the start: I can’t be impartial when it comes to judging the work of the genius from Eureka, CA because, yes, I am one of those pedantic nerds who can talk about him for hours at bus stops and grocery stores. Pranzo Oltranzista is in my opinion: “a postmodern monument to deconstructivism and a wordless essay on the very meaning of semiotics from a non-Kojevian perspective”. Or “it fucking rules”: you decide. And don’t get me started on the tragedy behind Fantomas or Mr Bungle’s sardonic stance on the morals of our times because I may end up comparing Patton’s vocal chromaticism to the continuous dichotomy between techne and episteme. Or “both bands fucking rule”: you’re an agent with free will, so you can decide for yourself.
It’s been a long time since a sort of standard modern rock or traditional metal band really showed off anything that this Angry Metal Guy appreciated. For the most part, modern rock has been rehashed BS and overrated post-Seattle scene leftovers. The bands that have tried to convert their sounds (see: the remnants of Guns N’ Roses meets STP or Europe’s latest incarnation) have really failed at it because the sound is, at its root, boring as hell. Rehashing rock again with thicker guitar tone and a vocalist who will never live up to the classics is pretty much a good way to guarantee that your vocalist buddy goes to rehab, but not much more. Whatever happened to Buckcherry again? Oh right. Flash in the effing pan.
