This month has been busy as all hell. Moving around, working and then burning the other end of the candle to keep things nice and balanced is a sure way to keep time moving. But this also means it’s a sure way into quickly becoming a weathered and jaded cynic. That is, if you don’t immerse yourself in constant abrasive noise. Whether the hardest stuff in your library is The Replacements or Coil, one must always be gravitating toward their own extremes, right? As a man needs to honor his commitments, I found myself walking into situations, ready for abuse. What I keep learning though is that once you’ve found something cathartic or abrasive enough, it looses its edge. As the great King Osric said, “There comes a time when the jewels cease to sparkle, when the gold looses its luster…” At some point you have to forge on to the next aural filth, hoping it’ll stimulate some unspoken perversion and satisfy the animal you actually are. So, from being thoroughly entertained to being pummeled by sonic force, the new year thus far has set a high standard for satisfaction. Here’s a little taste…
A new kind of sleaze is seeping over the boarders of New Jersey. In fact an undeniable group of rock n’ roll sleaze bandits have long been plotting the corruption of New York. Pink Mass have spread themselves thin here this winter, having released their debut, Posthumously Curious, and while they’re mercilessly punishing their audiences with a raw blend of power-violence and grindcore, other kinds of punishments are administered during the live shows. Some call it tasteless and some perceive it as a well executed gimmick. I tend to stand somewhere in between, in full support on both ends of the spectrum. For too long the east coast has needed a proper group of depraved gimps to whip musical and political skeptics into submission. Pink Mass will continue to fly this flag, lavishing their audiences in perversions through prop and demeanor. These adoni have taken down all the right notes from good old Papa Duce and Uncle G.G. and won’t let up on their teachings. So don’t be a square, enter the Church of Pink Mass.
Lucky 13 Saloon
I’ve always thought the idea of a metal or punk bar was cheesy and contrived. Ideally, we want affordability, bartenders that do their jobs, and a well-rounded selection of tunes. All the extra décor can do more harm than good if it’s not done right. The old Lucky 13 Saloon was what it was, a dive in every sense of the word. If you want your drink kicked off the bar by a steamrolling burlesque show, this was the place to go. The Park Slope bar would cater to every type of rogue to run the local streets and then bring you into their many folds of degradation. But don’t let me sell it short, for the last 11 years Lucky 13 Saloon was a real place run by real people of metal, which is why the new one is even better. For several months now the new location in Gowanus has brought about great expansions. Aside from being in a much bigger space, they are now having nightly shows in a room similar to that of Bushwick’s Anchored Inn or Acheron and it won’t take too long for them to start booking some heavy hitting acts. There is something about this place that accepts metal for its primitive values. They don’t try to glamorize their shtick with occult interior aesthetic. Instead they have Eddie and horror movie posters on everything. Is it done right, you ask?
Lucky 13 Saloon is located at 644 Sackett St. Brooklyn, NY
High On Fire
After making a feeble attempt at a getting a view the other night at a crowded St. Vitus Bar, I ended up watching High on Fire from the bar and reminisced on what it was like to see them a decade ago in an emptier club. These smaller scale venues simply aren’t sizable enough for the turnout anymore. The novelty of seeing High on Fire in a major city at an intimate and raw club isn’t realistic anymore. If anything though, this is a testament to the quality of success the band has attained. They put on the same type of show that they did over a decade ago; one that’ll plague you with obsession for the rest of your life. The power trio, who have been unwavering in a genre so competitive, have time and time again proven steadfast in a performance of unrelenting intensity. Thus, their success isn’t a cheap fluke, having been built on the quality of their brand and the delivery of such. It’s as if Matt Pike came into this world wearing jeans and cradling a Les Paul. Performers of this caliber are few and far between, which is why fans old and new will always flock to catch a glimpse and an earshot of this arsenal of sound. So if High on Fire makes a stop at the Hammerstein Ballroom on their next tour, don’t be too cool, it’ll sound better than ever.
High on Fire “Cometh Down Hessian” 2004
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Musings and Observations…
Look at how young my man was back in the Jabbers. He almost looks relatable.
This is a photo of a photo featured in the Murder in the Front Row book. A picture like this speaks truths and illustrates all heavy metal as being absurd on a Spinal Tap level. It’s hard to accept but it’s a good way to teach young adults about what it means to take things with a grain of salt.
“Wait yeah…now that I think about it, I don’t own and haven’t heard anything by this Iron Maiden band”
All that’s important is, who got rid of this record and how did they escape the life?
