Foreward:
“Truth be known, I was wondering whether or not to write, as I was picturing you getting lots of E-mails from guys who are reminiscent of the Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons.”
–email from Satya Moorthy
Funny. I think I am the Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons, at least in the world of music. If that wasn’t true, I couldn’t have written this damned column.
–gloom
—
Here we are, seated in a room richly decorated in dark woods with a comfortable flame blazing in the fireplace. Flowers surround the plush couch where I sit, with soft lighting cast down upon my pretty pink dress. My hair is tucked behind my ears and my legs are crossed ever so formally as I prepare to address my adoring fans…
Wait a minute. Back that up.
Okay, really, we’re here in a room full of black furniture, second floor duplex somewhere in the middle of nowhere, Iowa. Yes, there are videos along the walls like She’s All That and Singing In The Rain, but those belong to my roommate. The stereo has a ton of bass so we can’t play it very loudly. I’m lounging around in a pair of jean shorts and a black babydoll top, my hair just managing to not look like I stuck my finger in an electric socket, and everyone else has grabbed the nearest wall or other random area to sprawl against and get comfortable. Even if I wanted to make this formal, it’s just not in my blood.
Thus begins an evening with Gloomchen, and there’s not a 311 fan to be found.
The names are those of Inside Pulse readers, fellow staff members, AIM buddies, OkCupid and MySpace inhabitants, LiveJournal stalkers, and casual folks who happened to fall into my pit of a website (conveniently named gloomchen.com). I never tried to attract this crowd, but they’re here, and they’re a blast and a half.
We’ll easily finish off a keg tonight, don’t I know it.
For as much as I talk about myself in other forums around the ‘net, this night was set aside to grill me about my recent columns as well as pretty much any other music-related mumbo-jumbo. After all, if anyone is concerned with my life off-topic, it’s quite easy to find elsewhere.
Jon Seibel won’t let me finish this introduction. He’s got questions for days.
“Your opinion on this article?”
For those too lazy to click on the link, here’s the gist: someone out there in the universe has finally discovered that there are female fronted metal bands! How novel! Of course, they only figured this out due to the popularity of Evanescence, but I shall forgive that in the name of furthering fame of great musicians.
Anneke van Giersbergen of The Gathering is featured in the article as well, which makes me happier than a pig in shit because she’s my favorite female “metal” (kinda) vocalist ever. And she smiles a lot, which is so anti-metal that it makes me love her all the more. Yet, I digress.
Is it just the appeal of a woman in metal that is propelling these bands up the charts? Considering metal is quite honestly a genre heavily populated by antisocial outcasts who only get laid if they’re in a band themselves, eye candy might be a helpful factor. Yet the draw of metal for most of these types of guys is the anger and testosterone, the volume and the viciousness. Throwing a girl into the mix could seemingly take this away from them — unless the girl is someone like White Zombie’s Sean Yseult, who looks just as scary and badass as all of the other males in the band.
However, it’s definitely been the pretty girls who have infiltrated metal, and they’re not exactly drawing the Debbie Gibson fan population. In fact, when I penned a column with Tom D’Errico about females in metal, I received more mail than anything because we snubbed Nightwish’s Tarja Turunen. Now, if you know Nightwish, they’re not exactly fronted by the most metal-sounding chick in the universe, hence why I didn’t really consider her. She’s an operatic vocalist. Cristina Scabbia of Lacuna Coil, van Giersbergen, and even Amy Lee bring an edge to their vocals which are distinctly metal. They’re all gorgeous, or at least easy on the eyes, too. Same with bands like Within Temptation, Leaves’ Eyes, and countless others. Nightwish? Turunen doesn’t sing metal, but the vibe she brings to the table is rather viking-like, if you remember your old Bugs Bunny cartoons. Maybe that’s what I missed.
Hot chicks who sound like badasses: that is the real secret. Girls like me will simultaneously worship and resent them for being so many wonderful ideals all wrapped into one. The best I can do for now, I suppose, is keep up my karaoke skills and get some more tattoos.
Jon Seibel continues:
“Besides becoming a pretentious tool (ex: The Artist Formerly Known as Prince), what else do you think Prince did wrong to screw up his career?”
Prince started his downward spiral when he started getting exponentially reclusive a la Michael Jackson. Quite bluntly, he simply fell out of the spotlight because he deliberately removed himself from it. He was on quite the high when he put together the New Power Generation and was carrying along well into the mid-90s.
Then he started to tiff with his label. As with any artist, this leads two things to happen:
(1) The label doesn’t promote the artist/band as heavily. I mean, honestly, if you are dragging your employer’s name through the mud, do you really think they’re going to spend the money and stick their neck out for you? Every artist in history who has fought with their label has suffered declining sales, and lack of promotion is a huge part of this.
(2) The public sees a big, rich, famous star, whining about reasons why they’re not making more money. We are going out to work for hourly wages or slaving away on overtime making the same salary pay; someone like Prince is crying that he doesn’t like the contract he signed. Oh boo f*cking hoo, you multi-millionaire bitch. It must be a rough life up their in your mansion. Hopefully you won’t have to hand a pink slip to one of your masseurs; that would be a travesty. In other words? A rich person complaining about money is the last thing anyone wants to hear about. It’s alienating to those who are happy just to have a hot meal on the table.
Changing his name was just the icing on the cake as far as eccentric behavior goes. Rich people do that crazy shit all the time (see also: Axl Rose). It reeks to us commoners as an attention ploy that leaves us zero reward. Oh, look, Prince thinks he’s a goddamned slave. Where’s an album? That’s all we want. We want great tunes. You either crank out the good tunes or get off of my radar.
Had Prince written anything decent during the approximately seven year lull of craptastic garbage he released, that probably would have helped, too.
Mr. Seibel still isn’t done:
“Is there anyone whom you think has the savvy to keep himself/herself in the spotlight for the long run, like Madonna has done, & to be able to reinvent himself/herself as she has?”
I think we have seen over the years that U2 (more directly, Bono) has been able to keep up. Aerosmith is along those lines, although with quite the rocky road over the years. But as far as new blood is concerned, who out there could go the distance?
I’m looking around and I don’t see anyone. A couple of years ago, I might have said Christina Aguilera, but she’s become just as much of a flake and a drama whore as all the rest of the girls of her ilk. Britney? Oh, that poor girl is just white trash in disguise, and as time goes by, more people are seeing this. Jennifer Lopez has made her whole life a joke. If I had to say anyone it would be Pink, but what the hell is Pink doing these days? Alanis Morissette could have done it if she didn’t run off and get all weird — if she had read the Madonna handbook, she would know that she’s not allowed to do that until at least 15 years of popularity. Avril Lavigne is doing alright at staying at an even keel, but unless she starts writing some Liz Phair-esque masterpieces, she won’t move any higher up the food chain.
As for the males? If R. Kelly wasn’t having sex with minors and if Kid Rock wasn’t stuck in a schtick… nah. I’m just not seeing anyone out there, and that’s disappointing. If Scott Stapp hadn’t ditched Creed, something tells me that they would have kept going and going until I yanked all of my teeth out.
It’s a totally different world out there in Musicville. I think it’s going to take a lot more than simple reinvention to keep careers alive. The days of longevity are quickly dying.
And before I can yell at him to stop asking me so many damned questions, Jon Seibel finishes with:
“What you think the differences are among black, speed, doom, goth, etc. metal. And why do so many of these bands come from Scandinavia? Gotta be something Viking-related, I’ll bet.”
I believe I have already addressed a lot of these differences in various SBNV columns. To the newbie, here’s a simple (and completely broad-ranged) summary. Black metal is typically super high tempo, super high treble, with screaming vocals; the bands are highly theatrical including corpse paint and dead animal heads or something of that nature, metal spikes, et cetera. Speed metal is more of a late-’80s terminology for what was then a new breed of bands like Carcass and Morbid Angel, something that was half-bred from thrash and evolved into death metal. Death metal is typically up-tempo, high bass/midrange, with growling vocals; the older bands of the genre typically looked like normal guys with long hair and tattoos (and often sweatpants, hah) although some present bands have more style. Doom is now most often seen as slow-tempo death metal, although its forefathers (Cathedral, Trouble, etc) sang clean vocals. Goth metal is more of a stylistic variation and offshoot of the goth scene itself, with spooky folks singing what is characteristically death metal. Unmentioned is symphonic black metal, which is sometimes just black metal with heavy orchestration, but has also evolved to include any dark metal with orchestration (Lacuna Coil falls into this category).
And the reason why Scandinavia is the hotbed is because that’s where the black metal movement began. Those viking guys love theatrics; they don’t want to be rocking in their Nikes. Aside from, oh, Varg Vikernes, I have to say that those frosty metal dudes are some of the nicest people anyone could have the pleasure of dealing with outside of the world of music. I think the anger must be stored up in their DNA, unleashed only when a drumbeat kicks in.
As we’re on the subject of metal, LJ’s lovehatelove badgers me on my taste:
“You somewhat cut on the last Novembers Doom record (To Welcome the Fade) in your review for having whiny lyrics. What do you think of the new one – The Pale Haunt Departure?”
I reviewed that disc aeons ago when I wrote for the now-defunct White Trash Devil (who, by the way, once interviewed me themselves — and it’s a masterpiece). Coincidentally, I threw a disc in my mp3 player last week and happened to listen to To Welcome The Fade again. I had to shut it off due to the lyrics driving me up a wall.
Novembers Doom have improved since then, thank goodness. I haven’t given the new disc a fair spin yet, but by all accounts, they still make music to kill yourself to (and I don’t just mean that because it’s doom metal). It’s genuinely so dark and full of self-loathing that it makes you want to end it all. And these are Americans! All I know is that as long as they’re not singing, “I wish my mother knew the real me,” then it can’t be bad.
Away from metal and steering back to my last Totally True Tune Tales column, Darryl Grant wonders if my list was too short:
“How could you not have ‘Ironic’ on the list (not even down the bottom)?”
If you’re a grammarian, that song needs to be shot. I always thought it was sort of cute though. The video was really neat. It’s not so bad that I have to turn it off, even though it was overplayed to the point of ridiculousness. Alanis did much, much worse than “Ironic.”
He’s not the only one though, as IP’s own Smackdown recapper CJ Ambrosia thinks I pointed my finger at the wrong Extreme tune:
“How about Tragic Comic for throw-away crap?”
Yes! That’s horrible. Stut-tut-tut-ter-ring po-poet… right. As much as I loved and respected Extreme for going outside of the world of cookie-cutter garbage rock, this wasn’t a high point. You know what also stunk on that album? “Seven Sundays.” For a band who had to kick and fight to overcome their image as being an acoustic duo (see “More Than Words” and “Hole-Hearted”), why would they make such a ridiculous bombastic ballad? Granted, they never released it as a single (I’m sure the label never would have allowed that), but it was still present on the album. Metalheads will take their power ballads, yes, but that was just ridiculous.
I still cringe at so many of their lyrics, though, on any album. One should not base their songwriting skills on puns. “Politicalamity,” indeed.
CJ continues, now referencing my ripping on Bon Jovi’s “Keep the Faith”:
“Heard Richie’s solo stuff?”
I remember when his first single was released. Wasn’t that right after he hooked up with Heather Locklear? Stranger In This Town was the disc, I believe. Yes, I gave it a listen. Then I gave it no more listens. Sorry, it was just bland. I didn’t hate it because it never entered my radar. The opposite of love is indifference, and that’s all I really gave Mr. Sambora.
Someone named Machmod pops out of the woodwork to give one last nudge about my column:
“‘All By Myself’ certainly does suck, as does Celine’s version, but have you heard the cover of that song that Babes In Toyland did? It puts it in a whole new light.”
Years ago when I wrote a text file about the Five Worst Songs of All Time (and yes, “All By Myself” topped the list), I actually did reference Babes In Toyland’s cover. Oh, people, if you hate that song nearly as much as I do, BIT’s cover is the happiest thing that will ever grace your eardrums. I don’t even know what else I can say about it. It’s fabulous. The rest of the Nemesisters album is ungodly horrible, but that song wins a gold star. I’m smiling just thinking about it.
Do yourself a favor and go find it.
Machmod continues, switching topics:
“How do you feel about Saigon Kick?”
I discovered Saigon Kick when “Hostile Youth” debuted on Headbanger’s Ball. I was in love with it and instantly ran out to find the album, The Lizard. I adored it, especially the songs “God of 42nd Street” and “Peppermint Tribe.” Most people know the album because of the balled “Love Is On The Way,” and that wasn’t a bad tune either, but it’s the songs about eating brains that I liked much better. My little sister used to do a little lizard dance when I would play “The Lizard,” too.
I later went back and got their first album. I couldn’t get into it. Everyone I have ever heard talking about the band will go on and on about how it’s their greatest album and they did nothing but go downhill after that. Ahh well, to each his own.
I do own three more albums but I haven’t ever listened to them. The shit I heard from Water was enough for me to stay away. I liked Matt Kramer’s vocals, thank you very much.
Keeping with that last statement, R.A. McCartney increduously picks up on a little statistic I threw out in my last column:
“Do you really have 7000 discs?”
I have over 7000 complete full albums. The current count is somewhere around 7170 in some sort of digital form, be it CD, mp3, or otherwise. I also have about 200 vinyl records and a few dozen handfuls of cassettes laying around somewhere. Have I listened to all of them? Of course not. Hell, I had some CDs that I sold on eBay that I had purchased five years prior and never took the shrink wrap off. It’s a problem, you see. I love music. I need to have it all at my fingertips. I have a compulsion, an obsessive-compulsive issue. If there is a song that pops into my head that I haven’t heard in years and I want to hear it, I want to be able to walk into my bedroom, find the disc, pop it in, and hear the song. I don’t want to have to hunt, beg, or rummage because I want to hear a song. I want instant access.
Of course, anything I have downloaded is purchased or public domain. I swear.
LiveJournal user De Wynken humors that last statement of mine and asks:
“How do you think the music industry will adapt to p2p once it figures out it can’t win in the face of technology? Copy protection has always been defeated, and RIAA can’t sue everyone, so ultimately, music will be free once it’s made.”
I think the industry is rapidly adapting. Look at a company like Sony who spent so many years trying to block the ability to pirate that they’re now so completely behind on digital technology that they’re almost out of the game completely. No matter what sort of brakes are invented, someone will hack their way around it. Sure, it may stop the casual user, but in years past, there were plenty of people who plunked down the cash for a Macrovision decoder. P2P may get more difficult to use and navigate as the bars come down on the easy point-and-click type versions of software, but it will always exist in some form. Usenet has been around longer than the World Wide Web; IRC similarly won’t go anywhere without a fight. The only real fight that record companies have are places like iTunes and the legitimate version of Napster; they’re simple to use and the cost is low. If it’s closer to free than retail, many people will accept that as a fair compromise. Quite honestly, it’s the smartest thing they can do, and they should absolutely continue to do it.
The hard-core nerds will always work their way around paying 99 cents, but if that’s the severe minority, it will stay primarily under the radar, and business will go on as usual.
With an appropriate handle, LJ user Sarcazm snarks at me:
“Do you ever listen to mellower music?”
YES I DO, DAMMIT. Have I mentioned how much I love Madonna? Liz Phair? Chroma Key? As much as I am a metal girl at heart, I long ago accepted that I love about 70% of what I hear. It’s fair to say that for every metal album, I own an ’80s album of some type. Stacy Q and Martika… awwww yeeeah. I also love my classic rock to bits, including everything from The Beatles to Journey. No, I don’t listen to sleepytime music like Bette Midler or Kate Bush, but depending on your definition of “mellower,” it’s fair to say that I’m not always listening to music that rattles windows.
Which is why I wrote about Fiona Apple last week, and Derek L would like to know more:
“I won’t begrudge your opinion of it, but could you celebrate the off-handed nature of how it has made its way into the relative mainstream through the power of the internet?”
Hey, I think it’s absolutely fantastic that Ms. Apple’s album is out there for her fans to hear. This happened a few years ago with the band God Lives Underwater, who lost their record deal and broke up. Their disc was leaked two years later, then officially released another year and a half after that. It’s entirely likely that based on feedback from this leak (although I rather find the album to be tripe, there’s a lot of buzz going around about it that seems to be fairly positive), it could be released simply because there’s a market for it. If the record company thinks they’ll make a dollar or two, they’ll cave in. Just wait and see.
Still off of the subject of metal, LJ user Wellsjc asks:
“Who is your favorite country musician of all time?”
And that’s a rough question. I am not, nor have I ever been, anything remotely near a fan of country music. By default I would have to say the ultra cliche answer of Johnny Cash, not that that’s not a respectable choice, but it’s really the only country musician I have ever sat and listened to for any amount of time. Aside from old records from Jim Reeves, I simply haven’t been exposed to country music at all. Today’s country is just pop music with twang, and I’m not a huge fan of today’s pop, either. All of this adds up to say that I gracefully bow out when it comes to the subject of country music.
When I was born, there was a Willie Nelson song playing on the radio. My mom remembers that much. Maybe there’s a little bit of shitkicker hiding within me that I just haven’t discovered yet.
Fellow prog nerd (and possible suckup) Michelangelo McCullar wants to know:
“How would you introduce a Rush fan to Dream Theater?”
That’s an easy one. I have done it myself, more than once, and always with success. It’s much harder to introduce a metal fan to DT than a prog fan.
At a former job of mine, my general manager was rather a computer nerd and had discovered my internet presence (including my drooling over the lovely Dream Theater). He was a Rush fan ever since he was a kid, including caravanning with friends in college to follow Rush around a few gigs. He hangs out on Usenet discussing them, the whole nine yards. He first heard about Dream Theater from his Rush geek friends, one who proclaimed DT “the second best band in the universe” (bet you can’t guess who is first). He asked me the general where-do-I-start question; I responded by burning him an mp3 CD with all of their albums on it. Hey, he was my manager, SUCK UP POINTS!
The best place to start for the proggies is either Images and Words or Scenes From a Memory; if that doesn’t get ’em, A Change of Seasons will. It’s nearly guaranteed.
A little voice pops up in the corner. It’s one of my REAL LIFE FRIENDS, Tanya! She peeps up,
“Neil Diamond sucks ass. Right?”
Righty-o, although I must admit I enjoy the kitch from time to time. I’m stuck listening to oldies at work all day, so a bit of “Sweet Caroline” is actually a nice break from Motown and the formulaic pop of the early ’60s. Man, I can’t believe I just said I prefer Neil Diamond to anything.
Enough real people! LiveJournal user Cerulgalactus tries to peel away at my facade:
“Musical confession time – what song that you have been adamant about your hate for do you really honestly love? Same again with musical artists.”
I’m not a liar. If I like something, I’ll cave in and say it. I had to do it when “Bye Bye Bye” came out by N’Sync; let me tell you, I hate that neo-boy-band crap, but that song was disgustingly catchy. It hurt every fiber of my being to say it, but in the end, I never denied that it was a decent tune.
My biggest fault in life is that I’m entirely too honest. Sorry to disappoint.
Rabidwombat from LJ is always one for great conversation starters. She pipes in, from the very back:
“Discuss one of your very earliest ‘favorite songs’.”
I may have done so in a column a while back, but the first song I ever remember calling my favorite is Joan Jett’s “I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll.” I think I would have been four years old at the time. Music was always playing in my house and my dad was into harder stuff, so I took an instant affinity into the harsh tune. In fact, it probably embodies everything I like in music today: badass female vocals; a strong, harsh riff; sleek lyrics with an undercurrent of sexuality; but most of all, just a great package that tells a story from beginning to end and evokes a very strong emotion.
At the time, I just thought it was cool. I mean, I was four. My other favorite song at that age was “Jeopardy” by the Greg Kihn Band. Listening to it now, what can I say? I have always had an ear for a great hook. I may admire the ability and talent in Dream Theter, but it takes just as much genius to write a song that sticks in your head, note for note, for over twenty years.
Reader Tom Griffin gets back to last week’s column and has some more important questions than all of this nonsense:
“Just a couple of quick questions, what exactly are beers, girls and more specifically, what’s a cat? Also, what are boobs? Maybe in your next article you could include a glossary for some of us non-hip kids.”
Guys, I know Inside Pulse evolved from what was once an all-wrestling site, but… Maybe I will set up the next Evening With Gloomchen to be an outside expedition. I know, it’s scary out in the world where grass grows and cars drive by, but it can be a lot of fun. Certainly more fun than downloading torrents or — I know it’s hard to believe, but hear me out — the real world is a lot more fun than carrying on internet feuds.
As I wrap up this little gathering of friends, I have to extend extra thanks to people like LiveJournal user Pontificator who have hooked me up with press contacts and various readers who have sent me random songs just because they thought I would like to hear them. The feedback, the interaction, it’s all so very fantastic, because there’s nothing more I love in this world than to sit for hours and talk about music. That’s why everyone was invited here, and that’s why the invitation will remain open for as long as anyone cares to listen to me carry on about such things.
With that, the keg is nearly polished off and it’s time to switch gears, maybe sit back and watch a goofy movie that everyone knows by heart, like Office Space or Dirty Work, and enjoy each other’s company in every other respect. Because really, we’re all friends here, whether or not I’m the center of attention at one particular moment.
I might speak loudest around here, but it’s all interaction, baby. Feel free to stop on by.
If you’re friends with P, well then you’re friends with me,
–gloomchen
