Black Sabbath - "God Is Dead?" Track Review, or Why Old Dudes Shouldn't Be Allowed to Leave Their Practice Space

Let's just jump right into it. I'm angry. I'm pissed. I had a lot ridding on this album emotionally and if “God is Dead?” is any indicator I'm in for one hell of a disappointment.

First off, what is up with that stupid question mark? Have you ever seen a question mark in a song title before? Is a question mark metal now or something? In fact, the whole premise of this song is quite arbitrary; Is there a God, isn't there a God, etc. These are questions we all ask, and they matter, but I don't like indecisiveness in my metal. I like it hard and pure. Fucking A. Slayer's been dealing with these themes since the 80s and I'm supposed to feel sorry for these old dudes who can't figure their shit out? No thanks. (For the record I don't like Slayer, they just felt like a great example in this moment.)

Second, where the fuck are all those great god damn riffs I've been hearing so much about? The first five minutes of this song are nothing but a cheap knock off of “Black Sabbath” the song with alternating loud-soft verses and choruses and some cheesy power chord-chord progressions thrown in so Ozzy can do his solo-era vocal melodyzing over the top. I mean gimme' a break, I heard this on their last album with Dio and the last two Ozzy solo records, is it somehow better now that they are together? Not really.

Next: The production, oh God the production. Just because Rick Rubin has a Gandalf like beard and scraggly “I haven't showered in a year” hair-do doesn't mean he knows shit about mixing Doom Metal. And let's face it, at nine minutes long and with an average BPM of probably like 80-95, that's exactly what this is. The Doom genre that was formed out of admiration of this great band is now more relevant than the band itself. Good God, they should have called this “The World is Dead.”

The one saving grace here is Ozzy's voice. Yes, I said it, I love the sound of Ozzy's drawling, ominous monotone. He's as musical as ever here in spite of his limitations and in fact is sounding better than ever in his old age what with the lower register and all. Additionally, Geezer's bass in parts is pretty cool. The man knows how to cut a bassline.

Now onto Bill Ward. For the record, I wasn't one who was moaning and groaning when the band and Bill announced they'd be parting ways for this record. I mean Tony and Geezer both put out a decent album in “The Devil You Know” without Bill on drums. But this new dude, Brad something-or-another, sounds so afraid to show any emotion in his playing that it literally sucks the life out of every measure. His playing is so stiff I could've programmed a better drum track. In fact, I might just to show how awful he is. But what do you expect? I mean the guy is probably like half Ozzy, Tony and Geezer's age and he's supposed to somehow relate to what they are doing? Furthermore, he was the drummer for Rage Against The Machine, I wouldn't be surprised if had a Raging (haha, get it?) hard-on every time he stepped into the studio with these dudes, I know I would’ve. He was probably afraid to take risks for fear of angering the "Godfathers of Heavy Metal." But Bill is the same as them in more than just age. He's been through the same trials and tribulations. He doesn't fear or revere the name Black Sabbath in the same way most metal musicians do, he was a part of it before it was anything. With time and wisdom and his indescribable style behind the kit, Bill could've done so much with this. Alas.

Last, those of you who followed Sabbath during their original reunion in the late-90s and early-2000s might remember a little song called "Scary Dreams" that was only played live a handful of times and was never released as a studio recording. Well, “God Is Dead” (I'm purposefully leaving out the question mark this time) is essentially that song. The length is about the same, the key is probably the same, the tempo is the same and the arrangement is absolutely the same. I can't tell you how tired I am of hearing “verse-chorus-verse-chorus-transition-bridge(double time, of course)-guitar solo-outro chorus refrain.” It may have worked on “Snowblind” and “Into The Void” and a handful of other songs, but it doesn't work here in the 21st century where we've heard it a thousand times since. Little known fact; supposedly the band narrowed down from 16 songs to only seven for this album. Yes, “God is Dead?” is one of those songs. Needless to say, I shant be buying the deluxe edition with “an extra disc of unreleased material.”

Well that's about it. I'm not a journalist. I'm just a dude who is very passionate about music and art. Maybe it doesn't get across due to my lack of “reporting” and proper journalistic technique. But I really don't give a fuck anymore. The world has jilted me when I deserved to be heard so here's to a big middle finger at the world. We can do better. We can all do better than this. Sure, maybe God IS dead, but it's starting to sound like good music died with him/her/it (probably a robot AI or genderless alien race, after all).

Metaphysics and the True Self - pt. 1 of ?

Our past history or accumulated experience with a  person can blind us to who they really are in the now. As we get to know them, and spend year after year in their company, we become blind to their constantly changing state of mind and relationship with the world. Therefore, we are unable to see them for who they really are in the moment.

Likewise, our perceived self is constantly changing as we grow with the passing of time and acquisition of experiences. However, we continue to live under the illusion that others perceive us as our conscious awareness perceives itself. These second and first-hand perceptions will always be clashing with one another, and yet neither one is the "true self."

The true self is equivalent to all the current and past perceptions of individuality as interpreted by those who have known us long enough to form a mental image of us as individuals and by our own sense of self consciousness. Combined, these realities come together and form the "true self." It is impossible to for any human to interpret this "true self" of their own volition.

Based on personal accountants of states of enlightenment brought about through intense meditation, psychedelic drug use, or by long-term practice of mindfulness techniques, it might be possible to tap into the "true self" in a conscious state. But perhaps these accounts are actually describing a pass into the realms of unconsciousness, where the true self is more likely to reside in its perceivable form.

Why Journalism Is Shit and Art is King... in no real detail

After graduating, I've given some serious thought as to whether I want to be a journalist or not. Being a journalist, at its core, means using other people's words to tell your own story. We gather quotes and video footage of other people saying or doing things and then assemble them into a nice package to be easily digested by an audience that is groomed to believe it's the only way information can be transferred. But in the digital age and with a new audience of readers who grew up with the internet, raw information is becoming king. 

People of my age group are just as likely to get information direct from the source via Twitter or Facebook as they are to hear about it secondhand from a news outlet. The writer is slowly disappearing from the picture, and for me; a non-natural journalist, that's just fine. Because of this, I've decided to focus more of my attention on the interpretation of information, rather than its dissemination. By this I mean that I want to pursue my passion, music, as much as possible. 

Art is the interpretation of information into something that is as much editorial as it is informational. But it also has a personal-emotional context, making it the ultimate, most powerful communicative conveyor. - Me

Unfortunately, like the journalism industry, the music industry has taken a very big hit from the free distribution of its product online. But unlike the journalism industry, music is not restricted by its own stylistic medium. Music is a blank canvas on which anything can be placed. There are no rules, and this appeals to me very much. If the journalism and music industry’s are to overcome this financial hurdle, they must embrace the mentality of my generation as consumers; product will be free or cheap (Spotify), but will also be plentiful (indie bands/Bandcamp). There's been an insurgence of new bands and bloggers since the means of production became digitized and consumer-available in the early 2000s. In some way this is a good thing for artists like myself who strive to be different and original, but it also dilutes the medium. Plenty has been said about this, but as a guitarist, It's even worse. 

If you look at the "music" section of a news stand at your local Barnes & Noble, you might notice that about half of it is populated by these magazine that have the word "Guitar" as one half of their title; Guitar One, Guitar World, Guitar Player, Vintage Guitar, etc. Ever since MTV started the craze of "guitar player as god" during the 80s hair metal movement, more and more young musicians or people who fancy themselves musicians have been picking up the instrument. This is exactly why there is now a shortage of bassists, drummers, singers, and multi-instrumentalists. According to the mainstream media, guitar is all that matter. As a result, there's thousands of young guys with PRS guitars and Mesa-Boogie amps and five years of guitar lessons who think they are the next Steve Vai. Well it takes more than precise playing and cookie-cutter tone to write music that matters. Be in a cover band, I don't care, but quit diluting the internet with your filth that masks the real artists who are working their asses off trying to get a little recognition. Moreover, stop being of the mindset that you have to be in the spotlight all the time. That the guitar is the most important piece of a band, that lead guitar is all you are capable of playing and furthermore, that you are good at it. Because you are not. Maybe you were supposed to be a kick ass drummer or bassist, but the world will never know, because your mind was corrupted at an early age by the culturally-perceived-hierarchy of musicianship (just blew your mind, right?). 

So in the end, it's not the PRS-touting Mesa-Boogie playing guitarists fault that they suck. It's us, as a society for putting people on pedestals and feeling like we must diefy them (looking at you Slash). And if you wanna get really deep with it, it's just another form of the god complex that I love talking about; people need to feel that there is something supernatural, superhuman beyond ordinary existence that they can aspire to. Because Slash will live on forever through his music, right, but I'll die a nobody because I don't play a PRS or a Mesa Boogie and I only took a year of guitar lessons and a million people don't know about my sound? It's eternal-life man, and it's a fvcking joke.  

Musings on my life so far

When I was around eight years old, my father took me out shooting for the first time. Pistols at the break of dawn in some deserted field-turn-shooting range with flimsy cardboard targets and empty bullet casings scattered all about the ground. This memory has little to do with how my life has unfolded so far, but it is just one of many times when my father impacted my life in a meaningful way, just by showing that he cared.

I am a 22 year old soon to be graduate of the Grady College of Journalism. Over the past two years I've written, learned and been made to question. But after a year-long internship with a small music blog from Atlanta, I decided I didn't want to be a journalist. Still I struggle with this epiphany. Regardless, I decided I would finish my degree and after graduation dedicate my time to pursuing my real passion: music.

When I was fourteen I started being serious about the instrument of the guitar. I practiced everyday until it became almost as natural as breathing. I could always pick up the guitar and let the day melt away. But being a musician wasn't enough, so I decided to emulate a full band using computer software and began singing in the school choir to improve my voice. Over time I became good enough to write and record songs that were almost as good as what my contemporaries were doing professionally (at the age of 18, nonetheless). But music was never an option for me when I came to UGA. At least, not on the surface.

My dad told me that I needed to have a “fallback,” in case the music thing didn't work out, so I figured the next best thing would be music journalism. Through my various internships and local connections, I was able t meet some of my idols and learned a lot about other genres of music. But it was always disheartening to know that at the end of the day I would be thousands of dollars in debt for a degree that I didn't really want.

So I've persevered in my field of passion and my field of academia. I've written five albums in three years, earned a certificate in Music Business from the Terry College of Business, gathered 5,000 twitter followers using targeted marketing strategies, filmed music videos and performed live a number of times. The critics may not always like me (and they usually don't), but I like my music more than anyone else's. I listen to my latest album everyday in my car stereo, on my iPhone (which I am super lucky to have. You know how many people in other countries don't even have phones?) and on my home stereo. On top of that I subscribe to Spotify so I can listen to new music from other artists everyday. I am constantly discovering and analyzing new music. Making it a part of my life, a part of my music, sometimes, and a part of who I am. I've dealt with my endless mind-games and those nasty emotional past-traumas that everybody has – another thing I've learned from meeting people in college – through my art. What could be more important than that?

I've decided that my five year plan will lead me to New York. Brooklyn, to be exact. Something else my father doesn't exactly “approve” of. Or at least, he thinks it is impractical. Sure, it costs twice as much to live there, but I've been in Georgia my whole life. I want to get out and see if it's really like everyone says it is, or if it's exactly the same as it is here. I want to see things for myself. I'm tired of being told how the world is. Through coming to college I've been able to formulate my own ideas about the world, people, culture and our society. My opinions don't fit into some cookie cutter mold because I don't want to fit into a mold. I want to be unique and an individual. I find that thought very enriching.

I notice I haven't really said anything good about my Dad since that first paragraph. Well, he's payed my bills and that says a lot, I think. I've spent his money on books, tuition, food, rent, bills. But I've also spent it on comics, movies, dates, eating out, electronics, clothes, games and musical devices. In spite of this, he hasn't cut me off. He hasn't said “You're no longer my son and I'm no longer taking care of you.” In spite of our differences, he's been understanding, and having witnessed families being torn apart by egos and narrow-mindedness, that's a real good thing.

I've still got a lot of the same problems that I had when I first came to UGA, but being here has forced me to find new ways to deal with those problems that are constructive, rather than destructive. I'm naturally a “the glass is half-empty”-kind of person, but I'm trying to be a “the grass is green wherever you stand”-kind of person – which I just made up, but hopefully that makes sense.

I just lost my train of thought, where was I? Oh yes, to fund my lifestyle and my passion for creating music, I plan to stay in Athens until my lease expires next August. I will hopefully be working at a restaurant, waiting tables, which I have experience in, until I find a better job working in Atlanta or New York. But honestly, so long as I am making better and better music, I don't really care what my day job is. If it pays the bills, then it's good enough.

I'd really like to get married someday too, but that's a whole 'nother story and I'll spare you. But I will say that it involves geeks, metal heads, computers, poetry, comic art, fire spinning, yo-yo contests, flamethrowers, action movies and lightsabers, so you do the math.  

Albums Review: The Darkness - Hot Cakes

Now those are some Hot Cakes!

When listening to a verse-chorus type band, I listen for two things: a big, catchy chorus, or a big, stanky riff. Preferably both. The Darkness is one of those bands that either delivers or it doesn't. In 2012, their first album, 2003's Permission to Land, remains their best. It's multitudinous songs with singable verses, choruses, and bone shattering riffs were merely icing on its sonic cake. It was also a well written album with flow, purpose, and lasting impact.

Their second LP, 2005's One Way Ticket To Hell... And Back, lost the immediacy of its predecessor and only featured one or two memorable tracks (the title composition and the fantastically bizarre “Hazel Eyes”). After this the band went on extended hiatus as flamboyant frontman Justin Hawkins went to rehab and brother Dan started the band Stone Gods, neither of which resulted in anything significant other than Justin's sobriety. So now in 2012 the band is fully reunited and unleashed the beautifully artworked Hot Cakes on August 2012.

Before I get going on this rampage, let's just take a moment to appreciate the gravitudinal artwork by Diego Gravinese that graces the outer sleeve of this album. It features three buxom women wearing skimpy, metallic gold swimsuits (of the one and two-piece variety) lying sensually across three mounds of gigantic pancakes. My description alone should've given you an idea of what The Darkness are all about, but in case you are very bad at picking up on innuendo, most of their songs are about love and love-making. That's nothing new for The Drakness, but like their last album, Hot Cake's songs lack that vigor and youth which was so evident on their debut.

We start off with the lackluster “Every Inch Of you” in which Justin recounts his typical poor-kid turned rock star story. This is immediately followed by seven songs that equally bored me. I'm not going to go into them individually, but they all basically follow the same format of subdued verses followed by loud choruses that try to be strong, but come off as weak. Most of the songs start with a solo, right or left panned guitar riff that sounds like it was ripped straight from AC/DC's early catalog and pasted without modification into a new song. Like I said before, what I listen for in bands like The Darkness is unique, powerful riffs and meaty, sasquatchan choruses, and they simply do not deliver on this album until closer “Street Spirit (Fade out),” which is in fact a Radiohead cover, so I don't even know if I can count it. Maybe I would be less annoyed if the structures of these songs were less repetitive and dragged out, but they all conform well within the confines of verse-chorus monotony.

There are some highlights amongst the disappointing drear, mainly in the vocal production which has an anthemic quality very much akin to what Queen was doing in the 70s and 80s. They might've ripped this technique from yet another classic hard rock band, but at least in this case, it works for the better of the album. So why does it piss me off so much that this album sounds like it does, all flabby and lazed-out? Because I've heard The Darkness at their best, when their hard rock tunes blow out your speakers and their softer, yet whimsical, slower tunes keep you enraptured with a story. The falsetto, the power chords, the pounding Phil Rudd-style drums and percussive bass can and have swooned in equal harmony before, yet for some reason, between 2003 and 2005 the Darkness lost their ability to write memorable albums. There have been successful single songs like “Hazel Eyes” and “Street Spirit,” but never a full on, titanic triumph like Permission To Land was. In the end, like fellow throwback rockers Airbourne, The Darkness are not as good as who they are imitating. At least on their first record they had a sense of humor about it.

Note to new bands: don't set the bar so high on your first album that you have no where to go but down. Could The Darkness have outdone themselves after Permission To Land? Yes. There were still lackluster songs on that album and it definitely didn't exhaust the creative pool's resources for catchy hooks, even with it's plethora of them.

Recommended tracks:
"Concrete"
"Street Spirit (Fade Out)"
"Everybody Have A Good Time"

Daikaiju Kick My Ass... Once Again

Epic 

There is very little these days which inspires me to write a concert review. Most concerts I attend leave me feeling a combination of disappointment, envy, and frustration. But there is, however, one band that leaves me feeling none of those things; and that band is Daikaju.

For the uninformed, Daikaiju is a Japanese-inspired surf rock band from Huntsville, Alabama. The group tours non-stop all around the country and even makes trips to Europe. Some might call what they do a gimmick, but I just call it pure rock'n'roll fantasticness.

When the band plays, they not only play to the audience, but they play with the audience. Often times the guitarists jump from the stage, run about wildly, and hand off their instruments to wide eyed concert goers and joust them into playing. The whole affair plays out like a maniacal-psycho-carnival-opera. I was amazed the first time I saw it, and was unsure if they could ever top that first performance which ended with them gathering the audience onto the stage, making us the performers, and the band sitting before us as if we were meant to entertain them.

When the two guitarists ran into me during their off stage escapades I could feel the fresh sweat dripping through their uniforms, and smell the weeks of of dried perspiration as they flew past me. In fact, as I recall, their has seldom been a time when my Facebook's event invite box was not filled with a slew of upcoming Daikaiju live dates. They simply are always on the road.

But this performance was somehow different from the others had seen. It brought for me a new perspective after having met lead guitarist “secret-man,” as he likes to be called on the Daikaiju website. Slightly small in stature, skinny, and bearing grey tattoos on his uber-tanned skin, the wild affroed frontman of the group is, in person, nothing but a joy to interact with. After seeing him perform live, there is little left to be said in a traditional conversation, and as I am already generally opposed to the notion of small talk (I much prefer big-talk, harahar), was perfectly happy to simply shake his hand, exchange a smile and give a few words of encouragement. Yet, it was upon this latest viewing of the band that I realized the depth of this band's commitment. To me, the psychotic live act is no longer new, or fresh, or whatever synonym you want to call it. It's simply Daikaiju. It's simply the best rock'n'roll five bucks can buy in an indie-hipster town such as Athens.

The life these men have chosen is an honorable life of rocking. As lame and corny as that may sound, perhaps there are real life dilemmas that come with it. Things that we average joe's take for granted, such as showering daily and having lasting relationships with loved ones, must be put on hold as the deluge of a tour takes precedence. I sometimes wonder if I, myself a musician, could handle such a life, and with so much abandon as Daikaiju exhibit? I don't know the answer to that question, since I've honestly never had the opportunity to test it. But perhaps in the meanwhile I'll let Daikaiju hold the torch for the rest of us bedroom rockers searching for a way out of the dismal mundanity of watching Netflix, cooking Bertolli, and training for half-marathons every day. At least while they are in town, I can feel a sense of hope, and a sense that all is right in this always revolving world. At least from my perspective, Daikaiju is timeless, living the dream, and will always be there to show me a good time on a Wednesday night in downtown Athens.

See you guys next year. Rock on. \m/

On Why Downloads Are No Longer Free At Artistsofwar.net

Recently I’ve come to a hard realization: money is the driving force behind the movement and progression of our world. It is the physical manifestation and representation of accumulated power. It is the building block beneath the socio-economic hierarchy that forms the differences of our various cultures. Even in relation to religion, money is king.

All that said, as an individual citizen and artist living in a capitalist state, I’ve got to succumb and face facts: what I’m creating is essentially a product designed to be shared, but for a price. That price not only represents my ability to house, feed, and support myself, but also a deeper philosophical value that is placed upon my work. It is important to my own sense of self respect that I value my music according to a system that 99% of other people can understand.

Furthermore, I am not selling digital rights to my songs, but merely digital copies. The market, or rather Apple Inc., has deemed copies of songs to be valued at $1 each. So, in order to associate myself in the same vein of “value” as other artists, I have to list all my songs for $1, lest they be considered “less valuable,” in an economic sense. That’s something that wasn’t so important to me six months ago when I was planning the free release of Peace. While morally it felt good to release my music for free, and not to reiterate, but I’ve simply had to learn that we as individuals must use the skills we have to make a living, even if we have idealistic principles that clash with that.

My primary skill to this point has been music production, so I need to capitalize on that as much as possible. I would love to someday release all my music for free in digital format, thereby lending to my idealist world view that everything can be equal and all people and products can coexist in harmony (See "I'm A Metalhead-Hipster," pg. 496). But until I have millions stashed away to provide for my present and future needs and desires, that just can’t happen.

Thanks to all those who have supported me up until now and I hope that you will continue to do so

- Brad (AKA The Dragon)