the value of a vehicle as a place to listen to music

I’ve been thinking about how I listen to music lately. Back around xmas, Ben and I were ripping around the city in his BMW, blasting black metal while we mowed down school children and little old ladies with reckless abandon. It was great, largely due to the amazing sound quality of the stereo in that vehicle. I’m not exaggerating when I say that it wasn’t just the best car stereo I’ve ever heard, it was one of the best stereos I’ve ever heard, period. Albums that had sounded bad on every other stereo sounded great in his car. If I was Ben, I would be finding reasons to drive around more and listen to music on that amazing system.

That got me thinking about all the good reasons for listening to music in a car. It’s often just you in your car, so you can listen to whatever you want, as loud as you want. I value that. And it’s a small environment so it’s easier to control elements that affect sound and make it sound great. And long drives are conducive to listening to full albums, which is something the whole world has unfortunately gotten away from — great albums are a real journey from start to finish, and when we only listen to a single or a few songs from one, we’re depriving ourselves of the journey, of the bigger experience of the full record.

I have a decent old stereo system in my house but depending on where I am in the house, or especially in the room (like if I’m close to the sub and further from the speakers), the overall sound can get weird. And I can’t listen to music on our home stereo often because I share this space with Jenn most of the time and she doesn’t want to listen to Jupiterian AGAIN. So that’s it, I’m committing to replacing the stereo in my car now. The current one in there is glitchy and goes through phases where it repeatedly pauses the music for several seconds at a time, which obviously takes a massive shit all over any kind of listening experience. My car will never be on par with Ben’s BMW but it should at least sound ok and not randomly pause songs every 20 seconds, because otherwise I have almost zero chance for sublime listening experiences on any of my upcoming long drives down island.

email to Ben about the family of serial killers

I wrote about this to Ben a few days ago but I feel like I want to dig deeper into it. Or maybe even just show it to a few more people, because of how wack I think it is.

The other week, I overheard a podcast Jenn was listening to about Ed Gein. It was great. He was nuts. It got me thinking about all the serial killer stuff that adorned Cannibal Corpse’s Butchered at Birth and Tomb of the Mutilated albums, so I went down a small rabbit hole on that stuff. I found that the sample on Tomb of the Mutilated of the guy talking about cutting out a vagina and eating it is Arthur Shawcross, an American serial killer and rapist I had never heard of before. Here is the song with his admission at the start.

Now look at this picture of Shawcross in prison in 2002.

That’s his daughter on the left and granddaughter on the right. First off, I can’t imagine smiling and hugging a man who killed and raped women and children. If they were men, mad respect. Jk. Anyway, I just don’t understand how anyone could be like “yeah but that’s my DAD.” To me, he’s not really human. He lacks some of the critical components that make us human. He’s a malfunctioning robot that is stuck on ‘kill’ mode. How could his family trust him not to rape and kill them and eat their genitals too? I don’t think I can believe that a broken human like Shawcross is able to draw those kinds of lines anywhere — I feel like him smiling and holding these women in this photo is a purposeful facade, just a way of looking like a normal human, just him trying to fit in so it looks good on a parole application and maybe he can one day be freed and be able to kill again.

The other aspect that bothers me here is that his granddaughter is wearing a Burzum shirt. For the uninitiated, Burzum is a one man Norwegian black metal band consisting of a guy who stabbed another Norwegian musician to death and to this day espouses white supremacist ideology. Burzum is basically unlistenable trash, and dog whistle of a band that I don’t think anyone actually enjoys — I think Burzum’s “fans” are actually just thirsty edge lords.

But Burzum is an extreme metal band nonetheless, so I assume that Shawcross’ granddaughter is aware of more common extreme metal like Cannibal Corpse, and is likely aware of the sample of Shawcross found on the aforementioned Cannibal Corpse song.

So when this young woman wears a Burzum shirt to go visit and take pictures with her serial killer rapist grandfather in prison, I feel like she is basically saying, “I think it’s super neat that my grandad is a monster and prominently featured on a death metal album dedicated to rape and murder, and I’m such an extreme edge lord that I’m also into supporting white nationalism (but only in a semi-covert way by wearing the shirt of a band that only a few people are aware of as being white nationalist).” I feel like she is just a small step away from wearing a Tomb of the Mutilated shirt to visit him, and outright celebrating her grandfather’s atrocities. It’s right on the precipice of being beyond crass and tasteless, of being utterly offensive. And I hate saying that because I feel like I’m offensive a lot of the time — I feel like a hypocrite when I say someone else is offensive. I’m not sure how to reconcile that but that’s probably a whole other blog post.

Basically, seeing that picture of a serial killer smiling and hugging his child and grandchild, who may be totally okay with the monstrous things he has done, just made me really sad about the malevolence, ignorance, childishness, and stupidity humans are capable of.

there’s a distinct lack of quality in hateful, misanthropic metal.

i’ve been on a real binge in the last few weeks, listening to every metal album that espouses hatred for mankind and life in general, but they have all sucked so far. they all promise big with great band names, brutal and depressing song and album titles, and unsettling greyscale cover art…but when it comes time to deliver the actual product, they all fall short. it stinks.

like this:

and this:

and this:

and this:

none of the above bands or records are terrible, but none of them are notable either. each one i listened to was like, meh. i don’t even remember what each one sounded like.

what i do remember is being disappointed by each one for the lack of dynamics, textures, and/or dimensions; the lack of hooks (ie memorable parts); and a lack of overall professionalism. for the most part, the music in the above links is generally just flat and monotonous. it’s boring. and when they do occasionally find some neat textures, they don’t do anything with them. it’s just like, “that’s sort of a neat sound…huh, i guess they’re not going to do anything cool with it…and i guess they’re just going to keep under-utilizing it for the next 3 minutes…”

for a serially hateful, depressed SOB like myself, this is really frustrating. i want to find music that matches my miserable outlook, but that doesn’t mean i want to listen to mediocre shit. vile, dismal art doesn’t have to be lazy, droning, unimaginative, or unprofessional — quality songwriting and bleak art are not mutually exclusive.

i think part of the problem is there really aren’t that many artists exploring this realm. i think that for every 20 artists in any given genre, 19 are going to suck, and there are probably only 19 bands or artists doing what i’m looking for right now. so maybe in 10 years when a few more have joined the glum fray, i’ll be able to find a few i actually like.

there are two things i want to say before i end this post: the first is that the bands akercocke and voices both pull off what i’m looking for, and they do it splendidly. so there are a few out there. i’m just annoyed that i seem to have already found all the good ones.

the other thing is that as much as i’m pissing on a bunch of obscure artists, i still want to give them kudos for making art that appeals to such a tiny audience. they are obviously doing it because they love it, and i think that’s the only viable reason to make any art at all. whether i like it or not should mean nothing to anyone but me.

enough meathead metal vocals

i’m so fucking sick of the shitty growling vocals that have been dominating extreme metal for the last, oh i don’t know, 15 years? it sucked when it started and it sucks even more now because everyone has had more than enough time to realize that they’re not heavy. they sound like dudes straining to take shits, like they’re bearing down really hard. it also sounds like chubby white guys trying to sound like they’re 300 lbs of solid muscle.

a few examples of the popular bands that are guilty of this lame style are killswitch engage, soilwork, and hatebreed — those bands all suck, and so do any others who share the same vocal style.

actually, now that i mention it, it’s also ridiculous how interchangeable all those singers sound. they’re identical. for angsty, angry men, they’re pretty cookie cutter.

here’s a good example of what i’m talking about. it’s a clip i stumbled across today and the one that got me fired up about this topic. i really like the music in this song because it’s chaotic and heavy, but then the singer shows up, doing his strained yelling, like a constipated bonehead. i also hate how these nimrods hold the mic. they always cover the end of it with their entire hand, they cup it really hard and shove it halfway into their mouths. this is another aesthetic choice i don’t understand. i think it looks stupid. plus it sounds like shit. mics aren’t designed to work like that.

i’ve always preferred my extreme vocals to sound either legitimately throat-shredding, like the singer won’t be able to talk for the next week, or inhuman and otherworldly. those things, to me, are extreme. here’s a good example of both those qualities.

i think the root of the problem here is that dumbasses like to hear other dumbasses trying to sound tough, because they can relate to that. those constipated grunters are catering to all the countless meatheads of the world, and you better believe that the meatheads outnumber us sane folk. but i want to eat worlds and never speak again, so i can’t relate to that dummy shit. i want more from my art, and that’s why i don’t listen to that trailer park rock garbage.

spencer’s gifts saves the day, and amy grant has aged well.

yesterday i spent an hour in hillside mall in victoria. it sucked. i was killing time while waiting for an appointment across the street and knew the mall would likely inflame my hatred for mankind but i spent my fair share of childhood and adolescent years in malls, and old habits die hard, so i was like a moth to the flame. i knew better but i couldn’t stop myself. and just as i foresaw, it sucked and i hated everyone there.

obese people double-fisting whipped cream coffee drinks and greasy deep-fried shit from the food court.

ugly people.

50-something year old people at sad, pathetic jobs like working at the strictly popcorn store (‘kernels,’ i think it was called), which was one of the only stores down an otherwise dead wing of the mall — very little walk-in traffic there. lots of standing around for those old slobs, lots of opportunities for eating popcorn, i’m sure.

kiosks full of ridiculously overpriced, cheaply made junk.

employees at said kiosks perpetually playing on their phones because no one buys anything from mall kiosks.

obviously gross losers masquerading as classy folks while working at the jewellery store.

dirty skids looking out of place while buying cell phones and video games from cleanly dressed people in tidy electronics stores.

i stopped at tip top tailors to get an idea of how much a suit will set me back, since i’m convinced it’s going to be nothing but weddings and funerals from here on out. turned out that at very best, a jacket, pants, shirt, tie, and fitting were going to cost $450. never mind that the first suit i saw that i liked was $750 just for the pants and jacket. i said thank you very much and walked right out of there. i guess cutoff camouflage shorts and slayer shirts will have to do for all those fancy occasions.

“i’m here to pay my respects…to sataaaaannnnnnn”

then i went to sears and looked at jeans. i found the style i like, in the colour i like, at a decent price…and decided i already had that exact pair of jeans, and since i can’t wear two pairs of jeans at once, there’s no sense in buying more of them. so i put them back and looked at socks. i love the feel of good quality socks. then i saw how much good quality socks cost, and quickly gave up on that venture too. i realized beyond being a raging misanthrope, i’m also simply too damn cheap to enjoy malls and be a good shopper.

so i walked on, dejected, disappointed, disgusted with everyone i saw, hating every store hocking their useless, frivolous, soon-to-join-the-landfill shit.

then i found a store that intrigued me. it was darkly lit, smelled of incense, had an air of goth/skid to it. i stopped and stared, shocked that i was so enamoured. i looked up, and was horrified with myself: spencer’s gifts.

i can’t add anything to this.

now the way i remember spencer’s gifts, it was a G-rated affair. it was still full of stupid knick knacks but it was stuff like sea monkeys and inflatable furniture, not t-shirts of 2 pac giving me the middle finger, beer bongs, and zippo lighters with weed leaves on them. i used to think of it as the family-friendly version of san francisco (for those that remember that gem of a store), whereas now i feel like it’s a 50/50 blend of the ‘gross sex joke toys’ san francisco vibe and a ‘head’ shop. not that i mind that blend at all. i mean, i was intrigued enough to enter the place, spend 10 minutes looking around, and be highly amused by a number of things they had. nothing i would actually buy but a few things i contemplated, if only for a few seconds. it was the lone pleasing experience i had in hillside mall yesterday.

what further endeared me to the store was when i walked in, amy grant‘s baby baby was playing. i’ve always loved that song but never knew what it was called or who performed it, until i looked it up yesterday. what a great tune. weird for such a store, especially considering that ms. grant is a devout christian, but i welcomed it nonetheless.

incidentally, i saw that ms. grant is now 55. but holy hell, she looks great. i actually think she looks better now than in the 80’s and 90’s. i love seeing people age well. i don’t know what the recipe is for it but i hope i find it sooner than later.

 

cheap stuff attracts pieces of shit; a supposed nihilist reveals his true colours

more adventures in selling used crap online. i put our old camper up for sale for the paltry amount of $300 because it’s ugly, has a leak and some water damage at one of the skylights, and some body damage at one spot. everything works great though so it’s not a total piece of crap. i posted the ad and within an hour, i had two replies. within two hours, i had 8 replies. but all these replies were like ‘im intreated when cani see it ??’ so i knew i was dealing with dummies. i thought, no problem, as long as the dummies have $300 it doesn’t matter.

well, it does matter, because all the white trash around here are painfully stupid and flaky. a guy last night said he’d come today to get it but he had no idea where he lived, where i was, or how to get from there to here. this was even using google maps, so i mean he was turbo stupid, or maybe drunk at home alone which isn’t much better. anyway, today i called him at our agreed upon time and he told me he had already driven to mill bay today, and then to duncan, and then home, and he was just wiped out. couldn’t manage to come get the camper tonight. i said ok, you’re not interested. he said he was interested but maybe he could come get it another time this week, and gave some weird specific hours on wednesday or some shit. i said i was busy at work and hung up on him. so i’ve now emailed and called every other piece of shit that has feigned interest in this fucking camper. let’s see which one actually follows through now. i’m constantly amazed at what consistently awful experiences i have selling used stuff online.

in other news, i recently read that sigmund ‘satyr’ wongraven (singer of the norwegian black metal band, satyricon) has been diagnosed with a brain tumour. here’s the dark damned one himself, on the right.

he revealed this to the world via his instagram account, noting that it was likely benign so it would only be removed if it was a matter of life and death, that many people in the world have it much worse than he, and that he has a great support network of family and friends.

i was immediately struck by two things: how odd it is that a devil-worshiping nihilist has an instagram account, and that said nihilist would not be thrilled at the prospect of an early death. i’ve never liked satyricon at all but always regarded them as one of the ‘true, elite’ black metal legends, thoroughly dedicated to anti-humanism and chaos, so hearing him talk about surgery to save his life, acknowledging that his situation is not ideal, and how grateful he is for those closest to him really messes with my perception of him. maybe i always had the wrong impression, maybe the nihilist angle was just for show, maybe he used to be a nihilist but changed his views over time, or maybe he’s just a phony goofball. who knows, but it sure is weird. i guess impending death tends to soften most people up a bit.

crawl further into my hole

after two and a half weeks on the road with jenn and no death metal, disturbing films, or satanic literature, i’m very happy to spend this nice sunday morning listening to mayhem’s a grand declaration of war while doing housework.

i got into this album almost 10 years ago. i liked it right away not because it was extreme or anti-christian or had black metal elements (although i was quite happy with all of those things), but because it was very fucking weird. the short songs, some long silences, the spoken word parts, the nietzche recitations, the lone electronic song with vocoder vocals…very interesting.

i was no stranger to mayhem when i heard this album, of course. everyone knows they are the storied norwegian black metal band who ate the brain of their lead singer who had committed suicide via a shotgun blast to the head.

i like his ‘i [heart] transylvania’ shirt.

i was familiar with their history and their crude early recordings, of which i was never a fan. i find their early works one dimensional and boring. but a grand declaration of war was totally different. although much more straightforward, i also like the subsequent album, chimera. but guess what, i hate everything they’ve done since.

while washing colanders and cutting boards and listening to mayhem this morning, it occurred to me how glad i am that i got into mayhem when i did, and that i got into the stuff of theirs i did. if i had listened to a bunch of wannabe elite metal fuckwads 15 years ago who told me how killer deathcrush was, i would have tried to choke it down, hated it, given up on mayhem, and missed out on two albums that i really dig.

then i realized i had the same relationship with the viking metal band, enslaved.

i like the pudgy girl’s battle axe

i got into them on their mardraum album. it’s heavy as fuck but super psychedelic. i also love the next few albums that followed it, monumension and below the lights, for the same reasons. but then they got this shitty boring drummer and lost the extreme shit like blast beats and brutal heavy parts. now it’s more like psychedelic hard rock, like TOOL or something. i hate that. and their early shit has tons of blast beats but it’s really juvenile, so i don’t like it either. incredibly though, i’ve found almost no one shares my enthusiasm for their middle era. virtually ever enslaved fan i’ve talked to prefers their extreme, poorly executed early shit or their boring hard rock late shit. well, FUCK THEM.

it’s been many years since i got into mayhem and enslaved, and i still have the same feelings on both of them. it makes me feel good to review these feelings and confirm ‘yup, that stuff still sucks/this stuff is still awesome.’ i like that i can trust my taste, even years after the fact. it makes me feel confident in my discerning nature.

so i’m going to recede even deeper into isolation now. i like my taste so much that i want other views and opinions to have even less effect on me — i want to achieve the purest distillation of my personal tastes. so ta ta, everyone. it’s been a slice.

i’m happy like this.