Metalocalypse Rocks, and so does Dethklok

As far as I can tell, 'Metalocalypse' is one of the funniest things on TV right now. The 2-D metal band that has become the 12th-largest economy in the world (and rising) while being almost completely incompetent in any non-metal related realm (such as putting together simple sentences) is one of the sharpest TV shows in recent memory. As satiric as Spinal Tap, and as great a tribute to death metal as the Blues Brothers were to early rock n' roll, Dethklok also has something else in common with those bands--their music is pretty good.



Further proof of Dethklok's musical capacities comes with their first actual album (as opposed to the one they recorded underwater on the show), Dethalbum. Performed by show co-creator/voiceover talent Brendan Small (a genuine metalhead who went to Berklee for guitar) and former Strapping Young Lad drummer Gene Hoglan (nuff said), under the guise of these merry men, Dethalbum is a catchy, entertaining, and pretty brutal record that's far better than half of the Main Stage bands on this year's Ozzfest. It's fair to say that Small and Hoglan could not have compiled a better record of Dethklok songs--rather than make a soundtrack to the show, the duo developed and re-recorded songs like 'Birthday Dethday,' 'Go Forth and Die,' 'Hatredcopter,' and many more which had appeared as snippets on the show. Here, they are muscular, full-length metal songs.

By playing like an album by a real metal band, Dethalbum omits some of the show's greatest moments, such as Pickles the Drummer's spectacular pre-Dethklok song with his old band, 'Snakes n' Barrels,' or the uproarious Dr. Rockso video, which is as great of a David Lee Roth parody as Roth himself. While it would be fun to have those on CD, they would serve as distractions on Dethalbum, and over all it's to the album's benefit that it plays like something actually created by Swisgaar Skwigelf, Toki Wartooth, Nathan Explosion, Pickles the Drumer, and William Murderface. Murderface. Murderface.

As expected with anything that Dethklok would release, the music is brutal enough for kids who'll be picking up the Arch Enemy CD that came out on the same day, yet accessible enough for anyone camping out for Ozzy/Rob Zombie tickets. It's far more concise than death metal bands usually are (perhaps too concise at just over 30 minutes), but that's far preferable to the filler that lesser metal bands drench their records with. Metal doesn't have to be long to be epic--just look at Reign in Blood--and in that sense, Dethklok pass with brutal flying colors. Also, the sound on Dethalbum is a little cleaner than most metal records nowadays, but perhaps that's because the guys are still 'mixing the bass out of pretty much every song.'

One couldn't review Dethklok without mentioning their lyrics, which are a riot. Opener 'Murmaider' depicts the homicide of fish people ("There are no fingerprints deep under water/Nothing to tie one to a crime"), and part of why it's such a blast to listen to is how metal it really is. As heavy and impressive as bands like Nile and Cradle of Filth are, they are also just as goofy as Dethklok, and classic bands like Judas Priest, Iron Maiden, and Motörhead all have songs that are just as funny as Dethklok's 'Briefcase Full of Guts.' Thankfully, Dethklok always comes across as a tribute and never a parody.



Before I get carried away, remember that as with the aforementioned fictitious bands, Dethklok are not quite in the league of the of the artists that they pay tribute to. No one would argue that Spinal Tap are better than Black Sabbath or AC/DC, and likewise you should be ashamed of yourself if you pick up Dethalbum before you own any Slayer. But for the serious metalhead, the die-hard cartoon network fan, or anyone with good taste in music who likes to laugh, Dethalbum is a good listen.

Ministry: The Last Sucker, sort of

Never one to be quiet about anything, Ministry mastermind Al Jourgensen has been promoting The Last Sucker as Ministry's last ever studio album, the final word on the greatest legacy that industrial metal has ever seen. The final album in his anti-Bush trilogy, and a reaffirmation that Ministry's oft-imitated electro-thrash still sounds best coming from the originator, it's a great way for the band to go out--so what if the upcoming Ministry covers album, remix albums, anthologies, side projects w/Lard and Revolting Cocks, and election-year world tour all scream that Grandpa Al's retirement is about as credible as Jay-Z's in 2004?


The Last Sucker is by no means a groundbreaking record, being musically similar and pretty much thematically identical to Ministry's previous two records. However, it's more consistent and more aggressive than either of those, and it's one of the best Ministry records since their late '80s--early '90s heyday.

The Motorhead-paced opener 'Let's Go,' sets the stage for the rest of the album, a barrage of electro-thrash which not only doesn't let up, but gets heavier as it goes on. As always, Jourgensen picks the best collaborators (Tommy Victor provides more than enough alterna-metal riffage to make you crave Prong's comeback record), and the sound clips are better than they've been in years. Sure, it's kind of funny to hear Jourgensen manipulate George W. sound bytes into calling himself an asshole, but it's downright creepy to hear real, unaffected clips of the supposed free world leader stammering over asserting his authority. Even if Jourgensen's eagerness to call out the bad guys by name ensures that in 20 years some of this will sound as dated as 'California Über Alles,' one can't help but admire his fearlessness, and musically he sounds as invigorated as ever. 'Watch Yourself' warns of the consequences of dissent, and 'The Dick Song' mocks the Vice-President's unfounded assertions that "we're winning."

Relentlessly fast and heavy, 'Death Destruction' and 'Die in a Crash' are sound proof that industrial music can sound like punk, and their sped-up, eardrum-pummeling rendition of 'Roadhouse Blues' is definitely an album highlight. The latter joins 'Lay Lady Lay' and 'Supernaut' as one of Ministry's best covers, although 'Roadhouse' is the only one that outshines the original. Jourgensen proves once and for all that he's scarier than Jim Morrison--awareness is far scarier than decadence, and besides, Jourgensen's proven to be much harder to kill.


Ham-fisted and over the top up until the last few seconds, The Last Sucker climaxes with 'End of Days,' a two-part epic that includes a children's choir, lengthy samples of Dwight D. Eisenhower's farewell address, and Jourgensen trading verses with Fear Factory's C. Burton Bell. But scorning Grandpa Al for lack of subtlety is like chiding Robert Smith for being melodramatic--we should all do it so well. Bell's vocals provide a welcome alternative to Jourgensen, whose voice is so highly processed that he sounds like a robot. Maybe he's wrecked his voice from years of enough substance abuse to kill a small country, or maybe he just wants to make sure that his indictments of the Bush administration are heard as clearly as possible. Whatever the case may be, The Last Sucker showcases just about everything that's great about Ministry, and whether or not it really is the last sucker, it rocks out like the apocalypse is already here.

Soon I discovered, that this rock thing, was true...

Ironic Covers are Lame, but...

One of the lamest things that a band can do is to smirk through a cover version of a generally detested song. The whole 'but it's supposed to be bad' shtick is just a safe thing to say when your music sucks, and almost every instance of an 'artist' bringing some terrible song back into the spotlight is pretty unbearable.



Thankfully, ironic covers often come back to bite the perpetrators in the ass. I'm sure that the band that had a hit version of 'Boys of Summer' a few years back are kicking themselves over the fact that their career all came down to one abysmally bad cover. Those guys who covered 'Smooth Criminal' are hopefully doing the same thing, as well as that band that folkified 'Boyz n the Hood.'

However, there are some extremely rare cases in which ironic covers can rock. Here are three of them.

'Seasons in the Sun' is an incessantly annoying tune that's been covered by far too many people (most famously Terry Jacks), and as far as I can tell, it's only been remotely tolerable once. Nirvana recorded a demo version which never saw the light of day until the release of their box set, and it's an intimate glimpse of the band that pokes fun of their reputation of being angsty and humorless. It also gave Kurt Cobain, Krist Novoselic, and Dave Grohl a chance to all switch instruments. Listen closely--Kurt forgets the words, makes up his own and starts chuckling.
Frank Black once derided Nirvana for not being 'goofy' enough--apparently he never saw this video...



The Anti-Nowhere League's nihilistic, 2-chord punk song 'So What' was briefly given some relevance when British obscenity laws caused it to be banned for its lyrical content. Forgotten for about ten years, 'So What' was then dusted off by Metallica, who didn't care that it was musically and lyrically far below anything else that they'd previously recorded. Like Nirvana, Metallica displayed a willingness to destroy their über-serious reputation. Watch as an obscure punk novelty becomes a raging metal anthem.
Taking the stage at Woodstock '99, Metallica addressed the abundance of corporate sponsors, the violence-prone audience, and the mostly-terrible bill by launching into this song...



At 21 years old, Sid Vicious was already a heroin addict, a murderer, and kind of a moron, but such a perfect meld of bad boy/lost puppy that he was destined to become iconic despite his utter lack of talent. His definitive musical statement (his musical contribution to the Sex Pistols was almost nothing) remains his take on 'My Way,' which is off-key, accompanied by a really contrived video, and somehow almost perfect. Few would have the nerve to argue that 'My Way' is anything more than a really lame song, but even fewer could sing it and really make it work. Witness.



The fact that almost every other ironic cover in recorded history is so bad makes these few all the more incredible. Well done, guys.

Bow Down to Rob Zombie

The guy who opened up his major-label debut album with a song called 'Welcome to Planet Motherfucker' is now in a league with Bob Dylan, Frank Zappa, David Bowie, Nick Cave, Henry Rollins, and Ice Cube as a rock star who has been able to successfully make a name for himself in non-music related artistic mediums. With House of 1,000 Corpses and The Devil's Rejects, he established himself as the best writer/director of Horror films to come by in years. With Halloween, there's no denying that he's gone Hollywood (the film's executive producers include the Weinsteins), but that Zombie is able to successfully create Grindhouse-esque gorefests in the land of watered-down, tween-targeted remakes (The Omen, Wicker Man, and Texas Chainsaw, to name a few) makes his creation all the more amazing.

Halloween is Zombie's riskiest project to date, re-imagining one of the greatest horror movies of all time without turning it into one of the aforestated disasters. But unlike the directors of those travesties, Zombie knows, loves, and understands Michael Myers in a way that few people can without being locked up. It would have been so easy for some hack director to demystify one of the greatest on-screen terrors ever created by exploring his childhood, but Zombie does so in a way that gives Myers a sense of realism that other Halloween movies lacked. The young Myers' calm belligerence, coupled with his outcast status both at home and in school, are enough to leave an impression on anyone who ever wondered what the most fearsome serial killers were like as children. When his white trash stepfather verbally abuses him, we can see the boy ready to take his anger out on the world, and when the young Myers confronts a school bully, the result is far closer to Columbine than Revenge of the Nerds.


Despite the depiction of Myers' dire childhood, Zombie scores by not making him a sympathetic character. Here Myers is a cold-blooded killer whose victims' pleas can't do them the least bit of good. All attempts from Dr. Loomis (played perfectly by Malcolm McDowell) and Michael's mother (Sheri Moon Zombie, in by far her most serious role to date) to find any humanity in the boy are in vain, and in person he is nearly as expressionless as the mask that he wears. Zombie imagines Myers as realistic, but not humane, and the murder scenes are as chilling as they've ever been in the series.

As with most slasher movies, Halloween is easier to review for its context than its content. There's a lot of blood, sex, killings, debauchery, camp, laughs, and genuine scares; basically everything that's kept people coming back to horror movies in spite of how boring most of them are nowadays. When there's a good one, there's nothing better, and this is one of the good ones. Go see Halloween.

Of course, if you haven't seen John Carpenter's original, check that out first--it's a must-see for any horror fan, whether your bag is Hitchcock or Tobe Hooper (hopefully both). The 1978 version has become iconic over most higher-budget films from that era, and it offers suspense, multiple scenes of people getting hacked up, and a more profound depiction of suburbia than anything in American Beauty or Donnie Darko. Seriously.

Before he started making movies, Rob Zombie directed a great scene in Beavis and Butthead Do America..

The Meat Puppets Rock

How can the Meat Puppets still be so underrated? Sure, they had three songs on an album that sold five million copies, but many people think Kurt Cobain wrote those. Yes, they had a brief radio hit in the early '90s when all of Cobain's indie rock heroes (including Daniel Johnston, the Melvins, and the Butthole Surfers) were getting major-label deals, but they never found the indie-to-mainstream success of R.E.M. or Soul Asylum. Meanwhile, bands like the Replacements, the Pixies, and the Minutemen are lionized in books and movies, but the Meat Puppets aren't given the respect that they deserve. They weren't even granted a chapter in Michael Azerrad's supposedly definitive indie-rock memoir Our Band Could Be Your Life, and they're as good as or better than most of the bands that the book covers. Also, it's hard to think of any '80s college rock heroes who could put on as captivating a show as the Meat Puppets did at the Knitting Factory last August 29.

Kurt and Cris Kirkwood are recording and sharing a stage for the first time since 1995, and it's a rare rock reunion that doesn't feel fueled by money or show any bitterness between the band members. The Kirkwoods (and new drummer Ted Marcus) showed no bitterness about getting back together or playing songs that were 15-25 years old--they were just happy to survive lineup changes, drug addictions, and scrapes with the law to still be making music in 2007, something which cannot be said of many of their peers. "It's really been way too long," said a smiling Kurt when his band took the stage, and no one could argue with him.

The Puppets ran through a set heavily focused on albums like Meat Puppets II, Up on the Sun, and Too High to Die, and didn't once mention that they have a new album out. But the lesser-known songs still sounded great next to the classics, from the jugband punk of their second album to their radio-friendly '90s alt-rock material. Album tracks like 'Lost' and 'Comin' Down' sound deceptively simple on record, but live the Puppets got to display their impeccable musicianship. Few musicians can ever claim to have made guitar emote the way that Kurt Kirkwood did on 'Plateau,' 'Up on the Sun,' or any of mysterious stories that they set to their distinct, old country-inspired rock. Their use of traditional song structures, harmonizing, and whistling give their songs a folky sound that none of their peers can lay a claim to. Perhaps their inability to fit into a genre accounts for their lack of public appreciation; most of their songs are too folky for Hüsker Dü fans and too aggressive for the guy who yelled 'Judas!' at Bob Dylan in 1966. But those who dismiss the Puppets are missing out on a musical adventure that's nearly impossible to find elsewhere.




The Puppets closed the evening with some of their best-known songs, including the one hit ('Backwater') and the one that Nirvana made a hit ('Lake of Fire,' which sounds as much like a standard as any of the traditional songs covered on Nirvana Unplugged.) The chorus of the latter ("Where do bad folks go when they die/They don't go to heaven where the angels fly...") is still one of the finest to ever come from indie rock's heyday, and it would've served as a chilling ending, but the Puppets decided to send us home with the bouncier, catchier former. The more uplifting ending further perplexed anyone wondering why these guys didn't bigger, but we should just be grateful that they're still playing together.