Welcome to the horror of the revelation.

Name that song, folks. Tell me which jaw-droppingly awesome song the title of this blog comes from. Here's a hint - think pure, bone-crushing, gospel-bashing thrash from an album released on 9/11. Yeah that's right, THE 9/11.

Anywho, hands up if you've heard the news about Michael Jackson? Wait; don't bother; I know you would have heard by now. Tragic, yes, but not exactly a surprise given his condition over the last x amount of years. Gotta admire him, though - planning fifty consecutive concerts in London? Holy shit.

So, what else can I talk about? Hmm.

At the moment, there are a few songs I am obsessed with. You wanna hear about them? Of COURSE you do; or at least, you'd better, since there isn'nt much else I can think of right now...

The first is Sinklars Visa by everyone's favourite Faeroese viking metal band, Tyr. Even though it's in an entirely different language, the rhythm and vocal lines are enough to make me want to slap my knee and sing along.



Next up is a legendary track from hammerFall. Who doesn't love Swedish power metal? Seriously. All the best metal is from Europe. And these guys are no exception, with a pounding, stomping rhythm and choruses you just want to yell from the top of a mountain.



Check out the guitarist in the trenchcoat. Om nom nom.

Speaking of Swedes, the latest album by Deathstars is absolutely fantastic. I urge all of you to get your filthy little paws on it RIGHT NOW. Here's an example of what you're missing:



The whole album is incredible. Deathstars have hit on the perfect formula. You know how some bands do that? DragonForce's Inhuman Rampage was full of songs that all sounded the same, but you don't give a damn 'cos they sound incredible.

Actually, I have a theory about how DragonForce write their songs. They'll be performing live, and ZP Theart's thought process will go something like this:

"Oh, bollocks, I can't remember what song this is! Okay, er... Oh, that's it; I'll just make up some shit about dragons and evil forces and fire storming and the like. That okay, lads?"

You have to read that to yourself with a British accent. DF are English, even though only one-sixth of the band is actually English, but I like to imagine Zippy dearest with a Pommie accent. ;-)

I LIKE MY BRITISH FRET-WANKERS; LEAVE THEM ALONE.

Seriously, I can picture that happening. Along with Herman and Sam just mashing wildly on the frets, thinking, "It's gotta sound good sooner or later!", or maybe, "Eh, they're all too pissed and stoned to care..."

Here's a fun game. Put on a DragonForce record and get a bottle of your favourite drink. Alcohol is best; I like Kahlua and vodka (Black Russians for the win!) Take a sip every time you hear one of the following words: evil, power, force, light, death, dragon, fire, storm, temple, warrior, strike, fight, battle, rage, gone, night, reign, shadows, smash, steel, black, darkness, blackened darkness, dream, wings, flame, rain... you get the idea, go nuts. I can guarantee you'll be wasted before the end of the third song.

Go forth and drink, my minions!

A dose of metal, you need to bang your head 'til you bleed.

So, because I want to shove all of my work for art school aside momentarily, I would like to take a moment to talk about concerts.

Because we metalheads are surprisingly social creatures. If we are sheep, then the band is the gentle group of shepherds, there to guide us to a common cause before ripping off our faces and shoving them in our ears.

The collective noun for a group of metalheads is open to debate. One may argue that an appropriate term would be a "mosh" of metalheads, but others would argue that moshing is an activity, and should therefore be regarded as a separate entity entirely. One could also refer to collective nouns of creatures often associated with the metal culture - a herd of goats, a coven of ravens, and a murder of crows could all come to mind. However, none exactly seem accurate to describe a crowd of black-clad long-haired people, often male, and - when at concerts - almost invariably sweaty.

For the purposes of this particular post, I will refer to a group of metalheads as a "mob". A mob of metalheads. Not too far from the mosh with which we are all familiar, and it had that lovely alliteration which I, as a poet, am so fond of.

So why is the concert such an exciting and essential experience for the metalhead? Basically, you go to a venue, stand for four hours, get beaten by fellows of the mob, and you may or may not wake up the next morning unscathed. The music is too loud, the drinks are too expensive, and the whole place smells like sweat, alcohol, and sometimes, something a little stronger.

Yet there's a definite sense of kinship. You're all there to see the same band. You're there for the same thing. You're brothers-in-arms, of a sort - metalheads united for a common cause, and that cause is to go there, have a good time, rock hard, and let the band know that they rock.

The people in mosh pits are friendlier than they seem. At Children of Bodom, people pushed aside to let a vertically-challenged girl to the front. At Opeth, I was helped upright again by two strangers when I was separated from my concert-buddy and almost fell over. The sense of camaraderie is an incredible feeling.

An indispensable piece of advice to the new concert-goer is to find a good, reliable friend. I have three people who I attend concerts with on a regular basis, and find them to be among the most trusted people I know. Adam has helped me enjoy two damn good concerts, Luke has stuck with me in the two most intense mosh pits I have ever been in, and while I have only been to one concert with Callum, I look forward to many years of moshing.

A good concert-buddy should be able-bodied and reliable. He or she should have a high tolerance for noise, good stamina, and be willing to defend you from the tool population in any given mosh pit. Martial arts skills are a plus, as is a good size, but neither are as necessary as the ability to recognize when you have gone under, or a determination to stick together.

At a concert, alcohol is a pleasant mood-enhancer, but drinking too much before entering a mosh pit is advised against. Of course one does not have to drink in order to have a good time; after all, that's what the band's there for, but nobody's going to blame you if you're legal and have a couple of beers before moshing. God knows you could end up sweating it all out anyway. If attending a concert with friends, always make sure at least one member of the party is sober enough to help out others who may find their inebriation places them at risk of injury. All too often I have witnessed a drunk concert-goer harm a fellow metalhead, and sometimes I have even been the receiving end myself.

Also, I hate to say it, but something to keep in mind at a metal concert in particular is to dress the part. One need not go overboard with expensive merchandise; the simple, universally accepted garb is jeans, comfortable footwear, and a heavy metal T-shirt. The shirt needn't even be of the band one is seeing; in fact, a relatively small amount of people wear these, and some may even view it as a faux pas of sorts. Spiked wristbands aren't necessary, and many view them as a hindrance, and indeed some venues may not allow such attire as wallet chains, steel-capped boots, or spiked accessories.

Comfortable footwear is absolutely vital, as you are likely to be on your feet for a good few hours. Even if one does not mosh, one will be standing for a long period of time. Sneakers, skate shoes, and comfortable boots such as Doc Martens are recommended.

Organization is a must. I take it upon myself to organize my friends for concerts, which my mother affectionately terms "Getting the posse together". If one member of the party can afford to do so, it is a good idea for them to buy the tickets for everyone at once, and well in advance - the sooner, the better. As soon as you hear about the concert, start organizing people. I found out about a local show completely by accident, had two friends willing to come with me, and by early June I had the tickets. The show isn't until mid-August. Organizing car-pooling and the like that early isn't necessary, but if you want to, particularly if friends live far away, then by all means do so.

Be one of the responsible people –if you see someone stumble, catch them. If someone looks dehydrated, share your water. Though to be fair, if someone shoves you, shove back. Be as respectful as you can while making sure no bastard thinks he can push you around.

Concerts can be frightening, but also exhilarating. Imagine being two feet away from Matt Heafy, or Mikael Akerfeldt, or Curtis Rx, or heck, even James Hetfield or Steve Harris! Okay, so the last two are unlikely, but you never know unless you GO.

And even if the concert’s a disappointment, at least it’ll be something you remember forever, right?

I myself have been to seven concerts in two years now, five of them heavy metal gigs, and I have at least three more coming up before the end of the year, so I’m getting around. I wouldn’t call myself a veteran, but I’m beginning to think that out of my friends, I am the concert-whore.

I should wrap this up for now – next time, I may talk about a couple of the concerts I’ve been to.

Happy moshing, my mob.

~Ronnie

PS – the first person to tell me which song this title comes from gets a cookie.

Welcome to my nightmare.

So. Here we are. Or here I am, at any rate, as I doubt anyone is reading this except maybe Sami Cyanide who encouraged me to begin this in the first place, ni?

'Twas Sami who more or less told me to start writing this up as a sort of music zine. Said she could see me taking the world by storm. So I suppose I'd better do some musical talkin's, eh?

Let me just say that I am a metalhead first, and I will write as such. I may or may not swear, and I do make EXTREMELY frequent use of the universal \m/ sign. Also, expect me to mention 666 at least once in every entry.

I will most likely be talking about the music I have spent the day/days/week listening to, which spans over about four decades, from Judas Priest to bands in my hometown that haven't even been signed yet. If you're lost, it's probably just whiplash; don't let it get to you baby, there's plenty more where that came from.

Maybe I'll just tell you how I came to discover my current musical taste.

At the moment, I listen to a bizarre blend of all genres of metal, Gothic rock, Gothic pop, dark ambient, post-hardcore, dark cabaret, horror punk and the occasional "guilty pleasure", such as Savage Garden or The White Stripes. This radical shift from my pre-metal days of radio-packaged rock was brought upon in mid-late 2006, when my friend Tim brought his iPod and a set of speakers to school and played a few Ayreon tracks for us. Day Three: Pain hooked me in at once, and I was blown away by the emotion, so unlike anything I'd heard on the radio.

I devoured Ayreon, and early in 2007, another friend who goes by the name of Skelli allowed me to copy her CD collection onto the family computer. I spent the next three weeks listening to Nightwish, Wednesday 13, Cradle of Filth and The Used. To say I was hypnotized is an understatement.

On a whim, I picked up a copy of the Headbanger's Ball compilation while I was in Queensland for my father's wedding. Songs like Anthrax's Safe Home, Lamb of God's Ruin, and especially Slayer's Raining Blood helped me to simultaneously piss off my aunt and let go of my troubles, watching them flitter away on the Brisbane breeze like broken faerie wings. I will warn you now - I am a poet by nature, and I will lapse into speech you may or may not understand.

When I arrived back in good ol' SA, I purchased Anthrax's Anthrology: No Hit Wonders, featuring the hits from the Joey Belladonna-era, and Slayer's masterpiece Reign In Blood. The song that really cinched my fate for me was Angel of Death. If you haven't heard it, listen to it. Right. Fucking. Now. If you know it and love it, you know what I'm referring to - Tom Araya's high-pitched scream at the beginning, which he brings wailing right down into a guttural yell. As soon as I heard that, there was no turning back for me.

It was around the middle of last year that I began to expand my tastes to the Gothic as well, devouring dark cabaret artists in particular, such as The Dresden Dolls, Emilie Autumn, and the ever-amazing Voltaire. After all, one cannot live on metal alone.

As for Savage Garden and The White Stripes?... let's just leave them alone. And me. leave me alone on that matter, please.

Now I sit here with my hodgepodge of music, and wonder what on earth I am to talk to you all about.

I'll sign off for now, as Printmaking homework beckons, but I shall not go into detail of that on this blog.

Don't forget to hit me up on Deviant ART - http://XburiedinblackX.deviantart.com

I think you're gonna feel you belong.
~Ronnie