JOHN ZORN – Spillane
This really should’ve been the Naked Lunch soundtrack. There were some Mickey Spillane comics that
came out in the 90s that my dad collected. This was when there were like 5-6
comic shops in driving distance. That’s how my dad, my brother, and I spent our
Saturdays (and Fridays in the summer) until 1998 after the comic bubble burst
and there was only one store left. My favorite comic was Spawn. It wasn’t until many years later that I realized Spawn was
little more than a more toy-friendly version of Tim Vigil and David Quinn’s Faust, which was a book that was often
whispered about, but not found very often unless you were in Manhattan
or something. I got the first issue at Goodwill of all places, and the rest
(almost) at St. Marks comics. This is a beautiful record. It’s almost like 3
albums on one disc. I credit Zorn (specifically his Naked
City project) for opening my eyes
to the art of Maruo Suehiro and George Bataille’s fantastic book Tears of Eros. Except for the essential Story of the Eye, I find most of
Bataille’s work too academic… like there’s too much of a comfortable distance
he placed between himself and his subject matter…. But it works in Tears of Eros because while retaining
his scholarly manner, he lets his guard down and lets the accompanying images
envelope him. Not to the level of someone like De Sade or Artaud, but enough to
reveal that there was some modicum of genuine prurience amidst the bland
curiosity to merely catalog various atrocities. I love how Naked
City (wordlessly so, mind you)
connected to that kind of artistic expression. That why so many of the bands
that fall into that category of “spazz-core” or whatever fall so short; they
only go so far as to emulate the surface level of Naked City’s sound,
completely overlooking the psychological, emotional, and aesthetic intents of
the band. There was always more to Zorn’s music that just being a
rubber-necking hybrid of styles that don’t usually co-exist, it was about using
the right sounds to establish an atmosphere and a mood that accurately
represented the contents of the subject. You think cutesy cutesy assholes like
Iwrestledabearonce know dick about Hans Belmer or the hermetic nature of
bondage in Japan?
the closest thing bands like them get to surrealism is fucking Nicktoons… maybe
ONE David Lynch film if you’re lucky.
Favorite tracks: “Spillane” , “Two-Lane
Highway: Hico Killer – Long Mile to Houston”,
“Forbidden Fruit”
HELLCHILD – Bareskin
Huhwhaaaa… a SECOND Hellchild cd in the used bin?????? I
wanna thank whoever sold off these CDs… thank them with murder, for treating
these awesome albums like prom night dumpster babies. I pulled a sword out of a
girl’s mouth last night. It was this Coney Island
freakshow deal. She was one of those super hot “psychobilly” chicks ( To
paraphrase Seth Rogen from Freaks and
Geeks; “Psychobilly. Music sucks. The girls… are HOT”). Anyway she deep
throated a katana blade and pointed at me to pull it out. A lot of really bad
“pull out” jokes were made, but I was kinda drunk so I’m sure I came off as a
humorless sociopath. This suspicion was confirmed when the MC told me not to
kill the girl. So I pulled it out, she thanks me for not killing her and gives
me a hug. Every interaction I have with a female should end in this way. I
would’ve been more self conscious if I wasn’t sure that everyone was looking at
the half-naked woman with the sword in her throat and not the dude with a 1990s
curtains haircut and a Dean Ambrose jacket. Oh right… this whole thing was part
of an acquaintance’s art show, which was at a strip club. Some of the dancers
were pretty hot I guess, but for the most part I think strip clubs are gross.
Not so much the strippers themselves, but the vibe and the clientele just make
me want to submerge myself in a Jacuzzi of Purell and kerosene until the bubbles
stop. I also hate that ass-jiggling thing that every dancer (exotic or
otherwise) does now. I call it “Butt Derping”. Now I am an ass connoisseur, but
(tee) all you need to do is present, maybe a little sway, look over your
shoulder, and cement the void in your self esteem with the vapors of the
desperate’s arousal, no jiggling required. Fuck, Hellchild is so damn heavy.
This one has a bit of a Crowbar influence to it, but done in a fashion that
adds to the intellect and personality of the band. It’s the total opposite of
how Hatebreed utilizes its Crowbar influence; taking Crowbar esque riffs and
vocal melodies and making them more middle of the road and jock-friendly. I
love the vibe of this album. The harmonies and heaviness are perfect
counterpoints to each other. It’s not something that I usually notice (most of
the time because it’s not really necessary in my enjoyment of a brutal metal
record), but it hard to ignore here because it’s done so well. Hellchild rules,
is what I’m getting at here.
Favorite tracks: “the Answer”, “Wings of Hope”, “In this
Freezing Night”, “Single Color of Myself”
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