The abyss becomes me, I wear this chaos well

I made a very grave mistake a while ago, which was reactivating my Instagram account. And though I set it up to see only content from people I follow, eventually I start getting posts from randos with their opinions on everything, and I literally do not care. But the other downside to this is just how many people from my past I get suggested to add as 'friends'. And if I'm honest, most of them bear no effect on me, but some do. And that effect translates itself through memories, through things I recall from moments spent with people who were once important to me. One such memory I had recently actually informed a lesson that took me far, far, too long to learn : that something that once was important in a moment of your life spent with another, something like a book, or a movie, or a song, won't necessarily have the faculty of being replicated with another person that you're later with. This comes from a suggestion I had for an Instagram 'friend', an ex of mine called Sonia. I'll spare everyone the details of that relationship, and though it ended in somewhat of an acrimonious manner, we eventually managed to be on normal terms with each other, the very few times we've seen each other ever since. But one of the very many times where we just clashed, in terms of pretty much a lot, was when I gifted her a book I love and that I had presented to another, much more significant ex, years earlier. And that gift, that book, that memory that had been created, I look very fondly upon even unto this day. But Sonia hated the book. She hated it with a passion. And when I asked her what, exactly, she didn't like about the book, she went into like an hour long diatribe which left me sobbing on the other side of the phone. And that book? That book is called 'Nation', by my favourite writer of all time, Terry Pratchett. I love that book, read it multiple times, cried many times reading it, loved the stage adaptation I saw at The National Theatre in London.

Memories lead you to winding pathways, and now, as my spirit is ever more broken, as it readies itself to be broken even more, by magnitudes I can barely begin to fathom, I sit thinking about Terry Pratchett - and more specifically about a bit from one of his books, a little gem of a novel called 'Eric'. Long story short - and this is a very short book - what we have here is the Discworld version of the tale of Faust, he who would sell his soul for unlimited access to knowledge and all earthly pleasures. By the end of the tale, both the titular Eric (a 13 year old Demonologist) and Rincewind (an inept wizard who, in his haste to run away from the very many horrors, eldritch or otherwise, that want to kill him, tends to run towards destiny in the making, often saving the whole of creation completely by accident), escape hell, or more precisely Pandemonium, the capital of hell in Milton's 'Paradise Lost'. And what makes that escape all the more poignant is when they notice that the cobblestones that make up the road to hell are actually inscribed with 'good intentions' :

'I meant it for the best'

'I thought you'd like it'

'For the sake of the children'

'We are equal opportunities employers'

Before I write about now, I have to rewind time and go back a year. And a year ago, almost to the day, one night I was home, it was a sunday, and it was the last day of a week off work I had. At that time, I wouldn't be able to go to sleep before five or six a.m., and so what I'd do was play some game or the other until I felt sleep weigh heavy on me and I'd go to bed. I was sitting on my chair, my headphones on, turned to the max, focused on the game. From the corner of my eye, I see something that catches my attention, and it's my grandmother leaving her room to go to the toilet. It's a scene I'd seen so many times before, that I mostly had stopped noticing her comings and goings. This would have been around one a.m. or so, and just before I go to bed a few hours down the line, I get up and now it's my turn to go to the toilet. As I enter the small corridor leading to it, I see my grandmother laying down on the floor, barely clothed. I can barely make out anything she's saying, but in that jumble of words, I realize she's saying she had been calling me for hours, and I never heard a thing. That was the day my grandmother started to die.

And her death, almost a year on, is still deeply felt in my heart, in my soul, in my mind. And in my life too - it brought about change that the optimist in me hoped would not come, but that the realist in me dreaded - nay, knew - would come. Earlier this year we had to move house, I guess I've already written about it here. I embraced my new reality with a grim certainty that hell hadn't yet reared its ugly, inevitable head. There is far too much chaos in this equation for it to be solved, and some of that chaos, some of that chaos I invite into my life. Part of it began when, in the first week of being at my new place, a stray cat jumped inside my house - we live on the ground floor - and decided to stay. She joined the ranks of our army of cats, which was four strong already. But this cat - we named her Olivia - came bearing gifts : we soon realized she was pregnant, and in late January the kittens were born. I fell in love with them at once, all six of them. A few weeks later, after they'd opened their wee eyes, and were now starting to roam about the house, I said to the other party involved - my mother - that I wanted to keep them. I could afford the extra money that would have to be spent on them, not only through my savings but also there was a lot of shit I could do without and could easily cut back on. I looked at them, and saw them : tiny, frail, beautiful, and my heart burst with such love for them all. I thought that maybe if this could be my last one good thing I'd do in this life of mine, then it would be a worthy thing. If I could protect them, and shelter them, and love them, and keep them from harm, then I would do it with all my heart.

But of course - chaos.

Sometimes I do wonder if I actually died all those years ago, and if my hell, my eternal torment, my unending nightmare, would be to live out my life with my mother. If such is my fate, I find myself envying Sisyphus and Judas, Prometheus and Loki. My punishment is harsher.

It's my bane - maybe temporarily, maybe forever - that by choice, by necessity, and a combination of other factors, I have to share my house with my mother, who is, at best, at the very best, mentally unbalanced. Adding that to an already precarious mix, which include me, a broken man, eleven cats, and a lunatic, then chaos multiplies by a hundredfold. And chaos, being the unpredictable bitch it is, tends to surprise me at unexpected moments. And then what happens is fighting, and shouting, and me - close to fifty years of age - crying myself to sleep every night. And this isn't the life I wanted - I wasn't born for shouting, for fighting, I was born for birdsong, I was born for peace. I was born for the sighing of the wind over rustling leaves, and to hear the laughter of my children and my wife. But that was not the life I got. It was not the life I fought for, or, indeed, made any real effort to achieve. To achieve, let alone deserve. 

I had such good intentions. Such good intentions. I just wanted to do something good, you know? Something tangible. Something that could bring solace to some souls who are thoroughly undeserving of the cruelty of this world. And yet, even at that I fail. Lunacy impedes me of doing this kindness, at whatever cost it might have come to me, a kindness I'd do until my dying breath. It's two a.m. where I live, and as I type this I look at the photos I've been taking of the kittens throughout the day so that I might forward them to the local vet, who'll upload them to their social media, and in my heart of hearts, I can only hope they can find new homes with people who will love them at least one tenth as I love them. 

Already I find myself missing them, though they are still here. One, a small tabby beauty, lies lazily beside me, her inquisitive eyes watching my every movement. Three others are playing, they're on the floor, and as they move around and about my feet, I feel their tails swishing past my leg. I have to say goodbye to them. How? My dear God, how, how can I say goodbye to them? Already I envision the scenarios wherein they are leaving, for me never to see them again. Already I imagine the last kiss goodbye I'll give them, and me asking for a promise from whomever takes them to love them. Already I imagine myself, heartbroken beyond all the words in creation, awash in tears that I don't know I can still cry.

O Lord. O Lord. I often ask myself just how many times more must I mutilate my soul. And every time I think that the tattered remnants of my core can no longer be shredded, here I find myself at the gates of yet another sundering. My heart, it becomes a charnel. My soul, it becomes an all encompassing abyss. Were I to solve and open the lament configuration, no hell in existence could offer me more pain than what I now feel. 

Don’t get sentimental - it always ends up drivel.

And then there are those bands that by all accounts I should like, even love, but I never quite managed to get into. There's quite a number of these bands where I had people come to me and ask me 'hey, what do you think about such and such band?', and I always reply something like 'I don't really like them that much', and then they'll look at me as if I said the stupidest thing imaginable, and they say 'What? but you look like you'd totally be into them!', and I know, I know - I should be into them, but I'm just not.

Day 121 - TOOL - 'Fear Inocolum'

One thing that absolutely makes or breaks a band for me is the singer's voice. And the first time I listened to the singer's voice, I thought 'Oh no, I hate this chick's voice', and then I found out it was a guy. A stupid looking guy, his face makes me want to smash it to pieces. That said... I have listened to a couple of their songs that I really did not mind. Didn't love them, but didn't mind them. And it's crazy the amount of hype and adulation this band gets - and for what, really? This album is garbage. It's like they found a formula for their songs and repeat it endlessly. 'Oh but they have a great drummer', people say. Scuffed Bill Bruford, more like. There's nothing original and/or remotely impressive there. Neither there nor anywhere else. An atrocity. it gets a 1/10

Day 122 - Nine Inch Nails - 'Bad Witch'

Yet another band where I mostly dislike the vocals. I tried, in the past, to listen to them - especially if I was trying to jump a girl's bones - but I never managed to get past how dull the singing is. Mind you, I like Industrial, I like E.B.M., I like Aggrotech, but this is shit. And this album - at just over a half an hour - is an inexcusable piece of muzak. It gets a 1/10 only because there's some half decent moments in the last song.

Day 123 - Motörhead - 'Bad Magic'

Just like Iron Maiden, Motörhead has the distinction of being a band that I got to know first through band tees and album covers, and only afterwards did I know how they actually sounded. But unlike with Iron Maiden, I never managed to get into Motörhead. I was wildly in love with a tee with the 'Orgasmatron' album cover, but I never had it. Eventually I bought that record, and my first reaction was... 'What? What the fuck is this shit? What's this shit voice? Whaaaaattttt?', and yeah - I was never won over. And I can't stand that 'Ace of Spades' song. After that one album, I never wanted to listen to anything by them again. And yeah, this sounds like every other song I listened by them, I still don't enjoy Lemmy's voice - but at least I can tolerate the whole thing now. I wouldn't say I enjoyed this album, but it would be disingenuous of me to say it was bad. It gets a decent 6/10

Day 124 - Opeth - 'The Last Will And Testament'

You know, I tried. With Opeth, I think I really tried. And I'm an OG, I bought their first two albums - 'Orchid' and 'Morningrise' when they originally came out. And yet... there was nothing there for me, pretty much. I mean, I knew they were good, I knew they were very competent, but I just didn't see much in them. I finally gave up on them back when they released 'Deliverance' and 'Damnation', albums that I wouldn't listen again for more than twenty years, until I finally listened to them last year or so.

This one was at once everything I feared it would be and yet much better than I had hoped. It's very, very good -  the best listen of the week. A very worthy 8/10

Day 125 - King Diamond - 'Give Me Your Soul... Please'

King Diamond. King Fucking Diamond. Fucking King Diamond. If there was ever a band that I should like, then ol' KD here is the one. And I listened to one (1) entire album by them over thirty years ago - and while I enjoyed the instrumentation of the thing, that voice, my god, my sweet fucking baby Jesus - THAT VOICE! It's one of those Marmite things - you either love it or you hate it. And it was enough to keep me away from what I thought would be forever. But no, I must be some kind of masochist. Good thing it didn't hurt that bad. My original impression still stands : instruments pretty good, voice pretty not good. But it didn't drive me away this time, and though I did not overly love it, it wasn't heavy on those insufferable falsettos of his. A generous 6/10

Day 126 - Tame Impala - 'Deadbeat'

There'll be more about this particular theme some weeks down the line, but in the early '00s there were a number of bands that were doing indie rock proud, what with the Post-Punk revival, Electroclash, New Rave and whatnot. One of the very many bands from that era that I thought I'd be into - especially because a number of people I knew where fans of the band and swore by them - was them of the very stupid band name, Tame Impala. I only listened to a few songs here and there and none of them stuck. So much so that I can't remember even one bit or beat even from any of them. 

I went out shopping, and I decided to listen to the album when I was out and about. I press play on my iPhone and then the strangest thing happens. I start wondering where I'd listened to these songs before, or at least to something terribly similar. And my mind went to the summer of 2011. The summer of Filipa, who taught me how to love The National, and whose impending marriage ceased to be because of me. The summer where we both started cheating on each other because why not? And one of the people I took as a paramour was a girl called Zee. She was older, in her late 40s already, but she had very long blond hair, framed by amazing bangs that looked superb on her, and while after a few weeks with Filipa I just couldn't get hard for her anymore, for Zee I always could. We had a sort of a ritual where I'd meet her after work, and we'd go to this building she and some friends had bought to turn it into an Air B'N'B type of shit, and there was still work being done there, but it was empty by night, and we'd meet up there and she'd have beer and wine and bread and cheese and sometimes coke - and not the kind you drink - and we'd fuck and fuck and fuck for five or six hours, and then - just after sex - we'd both lapse into almost semi-unconsciousness but not straight away, and she'd put on one of her playlists that was filled with these chill out sort of electronic bands like Neon Indian, Washed Out, Toro Y Moi, Com Truise, Twin Shadow, M83, Wild Nothing, Mock And Toof and tons of other bands whose names I will never ever recall. We'd lie there in the dark, spent, tired, and sometimes we'd make out a little bit before falling asleep, sometimes we'd just stay hugging each other knowing that the future was not a place where we'd be together.

And not for the first time, I found myself thinking that there is a kind of music that is ideal for those post-coital moments, or for when the night is ending, and you can see the sun breaking through the morning clouds and you and your mates are enjoying the moment, that moment when everything seems so peaceful and perfect, and the first rays of sun hit the faces of these incredibly beautiful and statuesque people, a clique of which you'll never be a part of because you're a fucking gargoyle.

That's what it felt like for me, listening to this record. Like a soundtrack to where two deities in mortal flesh are meeting by chance, and then they go out, drinks and a meal, then clubbing, and look it's morning already, they kiss, and he ends in her room, and it's like a palace - or, indeed, 'A Piece Of Heaven', and by the end of it you just know that these are things that happen to other people, but not to you, never to you. God, I'm bitter. And also drunk.

With all that in mind, there's plenty of good stuff here, though there's some stuff that I didn't fancy as well. Thanks for the memories, you get a 6.5/10.

Day 127 - Type O Negative - 'Dead Again'

This was the first band I thought about when I decided to this bit of the run. And just like King Diamond, this is one band that just screams 'Oh I love this', but... I just don't. Late 80s/early 90s, I'm getting into heavier stuff, I start listening to death metal and thrash metal and doom metal and gothic metal and all that shit, and bands like Paradise Lost, My Dying Bride and Anathema I start gravitating to. Then I start hearing about Type O Negative, and mags like Terrorizer and Metal Hammer say they're

the best thing ever. I don't pay that much attention to it, but then I start realizing that goth chicks like them. Alrighty then, I decide to give them a try, maybe one of those hotties would be kind enough to steal my virginity. Enter 'Bloody Kisses'. Didn't like it. Shiiiiiiitttt, what else can I talk about with the goth girls? I try again, though by now I'm already in a relationship, not with a goth chick but with my son's mother. My dear friend S buys 'October Rust' and I borrow it off of him. Didn't like it. Then I give them one last chance, 'World Coming Down', and you can guess where this is going. Didn't like it.

And they had the look, the charisma, that 'It' factor, and I just couldn't get into them. There's something about their sound that just seems off to me. Maybe it's their guitar tone - I really don't like it. And I'm not a huge fan of Pete Steele's voice. Ah well. Mid 00s and I'm finally getting the attention of them goth girls, and me, a skinny, long haired, lithe, would-be lothario, a cad clad in black, a rake poised to storm these shores in vulvic revelry, would often be asked if I liked Type O Negative. 'Of course I do', says I, lies I. And far too often - at least for my liking - I'd have to listen to the nymphette talking about Pete Steele's spear. 'Oh he's got a big dick, did you know that?, and I'd think to myself, 'Neither do I, but when I crash into Uranus I'll stick it where the sun don't shine', and that's quite a detour in and of itself because today I just listened to their last ever record and guess what? Didn't like it. A 3/10 is all it gets from me.

I've got about a dozen or so weeks planned out, and none of them will be that enjoyable, or so it seems to me. Next week, something I've always had no patience for : Jam bands. Wish me luck! 

I over-dream every dream, my love, when I dream about you

Let it not be said that I'm not willing to try things that I don't think I'm going to enjoy. Well, I'm only trying things that I don't think I'm going to enjoy because I'm only forcing myself  to, but still. Shit, this one was rough. Rough as hell.

Day 114 - Foo Fighters - 'Your Favorite Toy'
This one was a no-brainer, right? If I loathed Nirvana, then the chances of me ever liking Foo Fighters were very slim indeed. And it didn't help, no, not one bit, oh no sir, that I really didn't like anything I'd listened to before by them - which were mainly a few videos I'd see in MTV every now and again. This is one is rather stale, unoriginal, sounds like every Foo Fighters song I'd heard before, with maybe a couple of decent songs at the end of the record. 3/10

 
Day 115 - U2 - 'Songs Of Experience'
I'll be the first to say that very early U2 has some pretty good stuff, but for the life of me I can't stand Bono, I can't stand that whole holier than thou aura they seem to project, and sincerely? I never got why they are worthy of such adulation, considering the shit I've listened from them over the decades.
So I press play on the record, and about ten minutes in I forget that I'm listening to an U2 record. I thought I was listening to an Imagine Dragons or Bastille record, or one of those crappy poppy bands that people seem to love. This one was pretty awful. A 2/10 is being very generous.

Day 116 - Primus - 'The Desaturating Seven'
First (and only) time I listened to a Primus song was on a video I saw on MTV. I thought to myself, 'what the fuck is this shit?', and quietly hated them ever since. What can I say about this record? Nothing here is objectively bad, but it's not objectively good either. I don't even know how to classify this other than stupid music, because it gets pretty damn stupid. I'll give it a stupid 3/10.

Day 117 - Limp Bizkit - 'Still Sucks'
I knew that Nu-Metal would be a part of my listens eventually. I coulda gone with Crazy Town, but no, stupid though that 'come my lady, come come my lady' song may be, what led me to loathe Nu-Metal was bands like Korn, Marilyn Manson and Limp fucking Bizkit. I 100% hated how they sounded, how they looked, how awful the artwork they used for their records was. Time, alas, has not changed my stance on that particular sub-genre of metal. And funnily enough, here they go having the album I enjoyed the most this week, and that by leaps and bounds. Is it everything you'd expect from a traditional Limp Bizkit record? Well, I suppose so - maybe even more. But what I really enjoyed was how they embraced just how much they were perceived by the press, by their peers, and by the public in general. And they use that perception on self -deprecating humour that makes this a surprisingly enjoyable listen. A very unexpected 7/10

Day 118 - Beck -'Hyperspace'
I remember when Beck first came along, and I really didn't mind that 'I'm a loser, baby' song. Didn't love it - but didn't hate it. And I never, ever tried to listen to one of his records : never had the inclination, never felt the pull. And this one, I had no idea what to expect, but something synthwave-ish wasn't it. And it kinda starts OK, I get my hopes up and even think we got a winner right here, but it soon devolves into M83-lite slop. This isn't just bad - it's embarrassingly bad. I'll give it a 3/10.

Day 119 - Sonic Youth - 'The Eternal'

Ah... Sonic Youth. Never listened to a single record by them, ever, and of the odd songs I listened here and there, I liked a couple, disliked a couple, never really bothered with them. Especially because - and without exception - everyone I ever knew who liked this band was an insufferable, insufferable leftist, and before you call me a rightist, know that I'm a nowhereist, and be that as it may, I just couldn't come to like a band with a fairly stupid name and I always only saw people with that one tee of the guy with his arm around a girl who's smoking.

I was prepared to hate this, but I found it mostly OK. Not a fan of the singer's voice, never was. And this isn't bad at all - I can see how much they influenced bands I like like Yeah Yeah Yeahs, though at times I found them a bit too Pixies-ish in their sound. It's a 6/10, coulda gone higher, but at around an hour, my patience for the whole thing was long gone.

Day 120 - The Velvet Underground & Nico - 'The Velvet Underground & Nico'

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Jesus H. Christ, what a crock of shit this was. Terrible, right up there with the worst things I've ever listened. It gets a 0/10. A ZERO OUT OF TEN.

Another likely painful week ahead. Gonna listen to bands that I really should be into but never managed to get into.

What dreams could we father, when farther we fell to nightmare?

There are bands and artists that, for some reason or the other, I just absolutely loathe. Not dislike, not hate, no no no, it's pure, unadulterated, loathing. Some bands I just can't seem to get into, whether because the artwork for their albums is just awful, or they have stupid, stupid names like 'Do Make Say Think' or 'Clap Your Hands Say Yeah', but then I actually listen to them, and OK, I don't despise them that much. But some bands... oh my sweet fucking baby jesus, I just can't. It's not just 'I can't get', it's really I just can't.
And I'm pretty sure some - if not, indeed, all - of my picks will offend someone. Looketh at my face! LOOKETH AT MY FACE! Is this a bovvered face thou see before thee? I AIN'T BOVVERED!
 
Day 107 - The Doors - 'The Soft Parade' 

Shit. Of course The Doors. Of course the fucking doors. It's 1991, I'm 14, wildly in love with movies and cinema, and of course Oliver Stone is a must-see for me. So off I go one night to the movies to see his Jim Morrison biopic, and I am, by far the youngest person there. I didn't get it. And I wanted to - my brother was big into them, and I wanted to have something that could connect us. I walked away actually disliking the band, but I didn't give up on them. My brother had 2 or 3 of their CDs and I listened to them and I really did not like them, not one bit.

So, the last time I actually heard a song by them, sung and performed by them, was about 35 years ago. How did I go about choosing which record to play? Well, I knew I listened to the ones that had the hits - or the most famous songs, at least - and when I found one where I didn't even recognize a song's title.... then that was my choice.

And fair's fair, I push play and immediately I'm taken aback - I quite liked some of the slower songs, I found them to be very The Divine Comedy-esque in certain spots. But then there were the more shouty bits, which is where I detest his voice. It was much better than what I expected, though not stellar, not by a long shot. I'll give it a 6.5/10 

Day 108 - Nirvana - 'Bleach' No preamble. Awful, I'll give it a 0/10 because I can't award negative points.

Day 109 - Pearl Jam - 'Dark Matter' 

I hate this band. I hate their sound, and above all I hate the singer's voice. They are - quite likely - the most overrated band of all time.

I don't give this one anything lower than a 3/10 because there are a couple of songs that almost show signs of promise, but a few seconds into them, that promise is wasted.

Day 110 - Dave Matthews Band - 'Walk Around The Moon'

I can't think about this band without thinking about a girl I was dating some twenty something years ago called Susan. We fucked each other's brains out, but unfortunately there wasn't really anything else other than the sex. And she loved this band - she even sent me a few MP3s, which I instantly disliked. I hated the voice then, I hate the voice now. I disliked most songs but the album ends on a high, the last three songs are pretty good, and I'd listen to them in isolation no problem. It gets a 5/10

Day 111 - Sublime - 'Sublime' 

I never really liked Ska. I don't mind a bit of The Specials, but in short bursts only. And the mid to late 90s were rife with these innocuous Ska bands, and I never had a liking towards any of them. Rather, they irritated the holy hell out of me, and within one chord I already knew I was gonna barf. Listening to it now... it wasn't that bad, but it doesn't need to be an hour long. It only gets a 5/10, but had it been somewhere around the half hour mark, I might have given it a higher score.

Day 112 - Hole - 'Pretty on the inside' Just as bad, if not actually worse, than Nirvana. 0/10

Day 113 - Ben Harper - 'Wide Open Light' Not bad, per se, but not actually good. I'm not sure I even enjoyed a single song. 3/10

I may be actually be able to scrounge up another week's worth of bands that I really hate - but that speaks volumes about the masochist in me. Alternatively, I may go for bands that I feel I should like... yet never managed to get into.

See you in the funny books, folks. 

The fire only destroys and though it may purify it takes takes takes and gives Nihil back.

When I was still alive, I had this sinking feeling - no, a certainty - that all that heaven and hell shit you read about in the bible and other places was actually something that was very real, and that all we do in life contributes to where we ultimately end up. And if, push came to shove, I had to tally up all of my life's deeds, then my most likely destination would be hell. I wasn't good enough, I didn't do good enough, I wasn't selfless enough, and I did a lot of things that were just low-key bad, things I thought wouldn't hurt anyone, but maybe it led to someone losing their job and then their family life went to shit, and the girl who was happily expecting suffered a miscarriage because all I did was put my hand in the till and swiped a few bucks om the daily, and all that, all that added up to me not being a good person at all, much to the contrary of what I'd always imagined.

One day, a few years back, I called it quits. I just couldn't do this anymore. I swallowed every pill I had on me (which were quite a lot) and I drank all the booze I had (which was enough) and I went to sleep with a name on my lips. As my eyes felt heavier and heavier, leaden with the weight of sin and bad decisions, I saw my soul fly from my dying carcass and hover above me. It was already making its way to hell even before I closed my eyes for the last time.

I expected an eternity of eternities of physical torment as I arrived in a colourless void that stretched out through infinity. Hell was a vast emptiness, and I wondered if my punishment was loneliness, because maybe that's what hell was. And maybe hell, to some people, is a forever of meat hooks piercing your flesh and stretching it taut, and ripping and tearing and pain so indescribable that it almost becomes pleasure. But I would not, alas, be so fortunate.

My soul wandered aimlessly through the yawning chasm of despair, in that gloom that enveloped me I finally sensed a flickering light in the far distance. As if a moth doomed to fly towards it, my ethereal self reached what to me seemed like a door, and it was, and it wasn't, it was the ghost of a door. I open the door, a door, I'd opened so many times when I was still alive, thousands and thousands of times, and I see myself laying on the floor of what was once my house, and at that moment in my life I was about to feel saved, at long last, salvation would be upon me. Across me on the floor, is my black cat, just a few months old, and I'm feeling emptied of any and all will to live. There lay I, and she inches away from me, and she stretches her tiny paw towards my face, and gently caresses it. That one grace, that one touch, and I felt my heart rekindle to life, I felt myself worthy of love once more.

Hope, however, is a non-existent comodity in hell. I am taken away from that moment and into another : before me lays another door, one I knew for a relatively short time only. I am pulled towards it and push it open. I hear my voice coming from the kitchen, exasperated, I'm not angry, but I am extremely tired and on the brink of putting myself in front of a train. The cats are hungry, and I am feeding them. First the kittens need to be fed, and as I prepare their food, my black cat is all over me, asking me for food, pleading me for food, and I talk to her and tell her I'll feed her in a few minutes, but she just won't stop. I finally put the food for the kittens in all the plates, and as I put them down on the floor where they eat, the black cat jumps towards the food, and I make a move to grab her but miss her, and I get frustrated and grab her just as she's about to start eating the kitten's food, but she fights back and one of her claws gets stuck on the mat where the food plates are, and I don't notice it and as I pull her away, everything comes crashing down, and now I'm really annoyed, and I throw her to the floor, and as she turns and looks at me, I kick her in frustration, and the worst part is that she doesn't even make a sound, she just stops and stares at me, and her eyes seem to be on the verge of tears, I'd betrayed her, I'd betrayed her love, I'd betrayed her trust, and as I try to catch her, to tell her I'm sorry, that I'm so so sorry, she runs away from me, and I ran after her, and the more I run after her, the farther away she gets from me, and I am now in a darkness so utterly devoid of life that I can't see anything.

My soul wandered aimlessly through the yawning chasm of despair, in that gloom that enveloped me I finally sensed a flickering light in the far distance. As if a moth doomed to fly towards it, my ethereal self reached what to me seemed like a door, and it was, and it wasn't, it was the ghost of a door. I open the door, a door, I'd opened so many times when I was still alive, thousands and thousands of times, and I see myself laying on the floor of what was once my house, and at that moment in my life I was about to feel saved, at long last, salvation would be upon me. Across me on the floor, is my black cat, just a few months old, and I'm feeling emptied of any and all will to live. There lay I, and she inches away from me, and she stretches her tiny paw towards my face, and gently caresses it. That one grace, that one touch, and I felt my heart rekindle to life, I felt myself worthy of love once more.

Hope, however, is a non-existent comodity in hell. I am taken away from that moment and into another : before me lays another door, one I knew for a relatively short time only. I am pulled towards it and push it open. I hear my voice coming from the kitchen, exasperated, I'm not angry, but I am extremely tired and on the brink of putting myself in front of a train. The cats are hungry, and I am feeding them. First the kittens need to be fed, and as I prepare their food, my black cat is all over me, asking me for food, pleading me for food, and I talk to her and tell her I'll feed her in a few minutes, but she just won't stop. I finally put the food for the kittens in all the plates, and as I put them down on the floor where they eat, the black cat jumps towards the food, and I make a move to grab her but miss her, and I get frustrated and grab her just as she's about to start eating the kitten's food, but she fights back and one of her claws gets stuck on the mat where the food plates are, and I don't notice it and as I pull her away, everything comes crashing down, and now I'm really annoyed, and I throw her to the floor, and as she turns and looks at me, I kick her in frustration, and the worst part is that she doesn't even make a sound, she just stops and stares at me, and her eyes seem to be on the verge of tears, I'd betrayed her, I'd betrayed her love, I'd betrayed her trust, and as I try to catch her, to tell her I'm sorry, that I'm so so sorry, she runs away from me, and I ran after her, and the more I run after her, the farther away she gets from me, and I am now in a darkness so utterly devoid of life that I can't see anything.

My soul wandered aimlessly through the yawning chasm of despair, in that gloom that enveloped me I finally sensed a flickering light in the far distance. As if a moth doomed to fly towards it, my ethereal self reached what to me seemed like a door, and it was, and it wasn't, it was the ghost of a door. I open the door, a door, I'd opened so many times when I was still alive, thousands and thousands of times, and I see myself laying on the floor of what was once my house, and at that moment in my life I was about to feel saved, at long last, salvation would be upon me. Across me on the floor, is my black cat, just a few months old, and I'm feeling emptied of any and all will to live. There lay I, and she inches away from me, and she stretches her tiny paw towards my face, and gently caresses it. That one grace, that one touch, and I felt my heart rekindle to life, I felt myself worthy of love once more.

Hope, however, is a non-existent comodity in hell. I am taken away from that moment and into another : before me lays another door, one I knew for a relatively short time only. I am pulled towards it and push it open. I hear my voice coming from the kitchen, exasperated, I'm not angry, but I am extremely tired and on the brink of putting myself in front of a train. The cats are hungry, and I am feeding them. First the kittens need to be fed, and as I prepare their food, my black cat is all over me, asking me for food, pleading me for food, and I talk to her and tell her I'll feed her in a few minutes, but she just won't stop. I finally put the food for the kittens in all the plates, and as I put them down on the floor where they eat, the black cat jumps towards the food, and I make a move to grab her but miss her, and I get frustrated and grab her just as she's about to start eating the kitten's food, but she fights back and one of her claws gets stuck on the mat where the food plates are, and I don't notice it and as I pull her away, everything comes crashing down, and now I'm really annoyed, and I throw her to the floor, and as she turns and looks at me, I kick her in frustration, and the worst part is that she doesn't even make a sound, she just stops and stares at me, and her eyes seem to be on the verge of tears, I'd betrayed her, I'd betrayed her love, I'd betrayed her trust, and as I try to catch her, to tell her I'm sorry, that I'm so so sorry, she runs away from me, and I ran after her, and the more I run after her, the farther away she gets from me, and I am now in a darkness so utterly devoid of life that I can't see anything.

My soul wandered aimlessly through the yawning chasm of despair, in that gloom that enveloped me I finally sensed a flickering light in the far distance. As if a moth doomed to fly towards it, my ethereal self reached what to me seemed like a door, and it was, and it wasn't, it was the ghost of a door. I open the door, a door, I'd opened so many times when I was still alive, thousands and thousands of times, and I see myself laying on the floor of what was once my house, and at that moment in my life I was about to feel saved, at long last, salvation would be upon me. Across me on the floor, is my black cat, just a few months old, and I'm feeling emptied of any and all will to live. There lay I, and she inches away from me, and she stretches her tiny paw towards my face, and gently caresses it. That one grace, that one touch, and I felt my heart rekindle to life, I felt myself worthy of love once more.

Hope, however, is a non-existent comodity in hell. I am taken away from that moment and into another : before me lays another door, one I knew for a relatively short time only. I am pulled towards it and push it open. I hear my voice coming from the kitchen, exasperated, I'm not angry, but I am extremely tired and on the brink of putting myself in front of a train. The cats are hungry, and I am feeding them. First the kittens need to be fed, and as I prepare their food, my black cat is all over me, asking me for food, pleading me for food, and I talk to her and tell her I'll feed her in a few minutes, but she just won't stop. I finally put the food for the kittens in all the plates, and as I put them down on the floor where they eat, the black cat jumps towards the food, and I make a move to grab her but miss her, and I get frustrated and grab her just as she's about to start eating the kitten's food, but she fights back and one of her claws gets stuck on the mat where the food plates are, and I don't notice it and as I pull her away, everything comes crashing down, and now I'm really annoyed, and I throw her to the floor, and as she turns and looks at me, I kick her in frustration, and the worst part is that she doesn't even make a sound, she just stops and stares at me, and her eyes seem to be on the verge of tears, I'd betrayed her, I'd betrayed her love, I'd betrayed her trust, and as I try to catch her, to tell her I'm sorry, that I'm so so sorry, she runs away from me, and I ran after her, and the more I run after her, the farther away she gets from me, and I am now in a darkness so utterly devoid of life that I can't see anything.

My soul wandered aimlessly through the yawning chasm of despair, in that gloom that enveloped me I finally sensed a flickering light in the far distance. As if a moth doomed to fly towards it, my ethereal self reached what to me seemed like a door, and it was, and it wasn't, it was the ghost of a door. I open the door, a door, I'd opened so many times when I was still alive, thousands and thousands of times, and I see myself laying on the floor of what was once my house, and at that moment in my life I was about to feel saved, at long last, salvation would be upon me. Across me on the floor, is my black cat, just a few months old, and I'm feeling emptied of any and all will to live. There lay I, and she inches away from me, and she stretches her tiny paw towards my face, and gently caresses it. That one grace, that one touch, and I felt my heart rekindle to life, I felt myself worthy of love once more.

Hope, however, is a non-existent comodity in hell. I am taken away from that moment and into another : before me lays another door, one I knew for a relatively short time only. I am pulled towards it and push it open. I hear my voice coming from the kitchen, exasperated, I'm not angry, but I am extremely tired and on the brink of putting myself in front of a train. The cats are hungry, and I am feeding them. First the kittens need to be fed, and as I prepare their food, my black cat is all over me, asking me for food, pleading me for food, and I talk to her and tell her I'll feed her in a few minutes, but she just won't stop. I finally put the food for the kittens in all the plates, and as I put them down on the floor where they eat, the black cat jumps towards the food, and I make a move to grab her but miss her, and I get frustrated and grab her just as she's about to start eating the kitten's food, but she fights back and one of her claws gets stuck on the mat where the food plates are, and I don't notice it and as I pull her away, everything comes crashing down, and now I'm really annoyed, and I throw her to the floor, and as she turns and looks at me, I kick her in frustration, and the worst part is that she doesn't even make a sound, she just stops and stares at me, and her eyes seem to be on the verge of tears, I'd betrayed her, I'd betrayed her love, I'd betrayed her trust, and as I try to catch her, to tell her I'm sorry, that I'm so so sorry, she runs away from me, and I ran after her, and the more I run after her, the farther away she gets from me, and I am now in a darkness so utterly devoid of life that I can't see anything.

My soul wandered aimlessly through the yawning chasm of despair, in that gloom that enveloped me I finally sensed a flickering light in the far distance. As if a moth doomed to fly towards it, my ethereal self reached what to me seemed like a door, and it was, and it wasn't, it was the ghost of a door. I open the door, a door, I'd opened so many times when I was still alive, thousands and thousands of times, and I see myself laying on the floor of what was once my house, and at that moment in my life I was about to feel saved, at long last, salvation would be upon me. Across me on the floor, is my black cat, just a few months old, and I'm feeling emptied of any and all will to live. There lay I, and she inches away from me, and she stretches her tiny paw towards my face, and gently caresses it. That one grace, that one touch, and I felt my heart rekindle to life, I felt myself worthy of love once more.

Hope, however, is a non-existent comodity in hell. I am taken away from that moment and into another : before me lays another door, one I knew for a relatively short time only. I am pulled towards it and push it open. I hear my voice coming from the kitchen, exasperated, I'm not angry, but I am extremely tired and on the brink of putting myself in front of a train. The cats are hungry, and I am feeding them. First the kittens need to be fed, and as I prepare their food, my black cat is all over me, asking me for food, pleading me for food, and I talk to her and tell her I'll feed her in a few minutes, but she just won't stop. I finally put the food for the kittens in all the plates, and as I put them down on the floor where they eat, the black cat jumps towards the food, and I make a move to grab her but miss her, and I get frustrated and grab her just as she's about to start eating the kitten's food, but she fights back and one of her claws gets stuck on the mat where the food plates are, and I don't notice it and as I pull her away, everything comes crashing down, and now I'm really annoyed, and I throw her to the floor, and as she turns and looks at me, I kick her in frustration, and the worst part is that she doesn't even make a sound, she just stops and stares at me, and her eyes seem to be on the verge of tears, I'd betrayed her, I'd betrayed her love, I'd betrayed her trust, and as I try to catch her, to tell her I'm sorry, that I'm so so sorry, she runs away from me, and I ran after her, and the more I run after her, the farther away she gets from me, and I am now in a darkness so utterly devoid of life that I can't see anything.

My soul wandered aimlessly through the yawning chasm of despair, in that gloom that enveloped me I finally sensed a flickering light in the far distance. As if a moth doomed to fly towards it, my ethereal self reached what to me seemed like a door, and it was, and it wasn't, it was the ghost of a door. I open the door, a door, I'd opened so many times when I was still alive, thousands and thousands of times, and I see myself laying on the floor of what was once my house, and at that moment in my life I was about to feel saved, at long last, salvation would be upon me. Across me on the floor, is my black cat, just a few months old, and I'm feeling emptied of any and all will to live. There lay I, and she inches away from me, and she stretches her tiny paw towards my face, and gently caresses it. That one grace, that one touch, and I felt my heart rekindle to life, I felt myself worthy of love once more.

Hope, however, is a non-existent comodity in hell. I am taken away from that moment and into another : before me lays another door, one I knew for a relatively short time only. I am pulled towards it and push it open. I hear my voice coming from the kitchen, exasperated, I'm not angry, but I am extremely tired and on the brink of putting myself in front of a train. The cats are hungry, and I am feeding them. First the kittens need to be fed, and as I prepare their food, my black cat is all over me, asking me for food, pleading me for food, and I talk to her and tell her I'll feed her in a few minutes, but she just won't stop. I finally put the food for the kittens in all the plates, and as I put them down on the floor where they eat, the black cat jumps towards the food, and I make a move to grab her but miss her, and I get frustrated and grab her just as she's about to start eating the kitten's food, but she fights back and one of her claws gets stuck on the mat where the food plates are, and I don't notice it and as I pull her away, everything comes crashing down, and now I'm really annoyed, and I throw her to the floor, and as she turns and looks at me, I kick her in frustration, and the worst part is that she doesn't even make a sound, she just stops and stares at me, and her eyes seem to be on the verge of tears, I'd betrayed her, I'd betrayed her love, I'd betrayed her trust, and as I try to catch her, to tell her I'm sorry, that I'm so so sorry, she runs away from me, and I ran after her, and the more I run after her, the farther away she gets from me, and I am now in a darkness so utterly devoid of life that I can't see anything.

My soul wandered aimlessly through the yawning chasm of despair, in that gloom that enveloped me I finally sensed a flickering light in the far distance. As if a moth doomed to fly towards it, my ethereal self reached what to me seemed like a door, and it was, and it wasn't, it was the ghost of a door. I open the door, a door, I'd opened so many times when I was still alive, thousands and thousands of times, and I see myself laying on the floor of what was once my house, and at that moment in my life I was about to feel saved, at long last, salvation would be upon me. Across me on the floor, is my black cat, just a few months old, and I'm feeling emptied of any and all will to live. There lay I, and she inches away from me, and she stretches her tiny paw towards my face, and gently caresses it. That one grace, that one touch, and I felt my heart rekindle to life, I felt myself worthy of love once more.

Hope, however, is a non-existent comodity in hell. I am taken away from that moment and into another : before me lays another door, one I knew for a relatively short time only. I am pulled towards it and push it open. I hear my voice coming from the kitchen, exasperated, I'm not angry, but I am extremely tired and on the brink of putting myself in front of a train. The cats are hungry, and I am feeding them. First the kittens need to be fed, and as I prepare their food, my black cat is all over me, asking me for food, pleading me for food, and I talk to her and tell her I'll feed her in a few minutes, but she just won't stop. I finally put the food for the kittens in all the plates, and as I put them down on the floor where they eat, the black cat jumps towards the food, and I make a move to grab her but miss her, and I get frustrated and grab her just as she's about to start eating the kitten's food, but she fights back and one of her claws gets stuck on the mat where the food plates are, and I don't notice it and as I pull her away, everything comes crashing down, and now I'm really annoyed, and I throw her to the floor, and as she turns and looks at me, I kick her in frustration, and the worst part is that she doesn't even make a sound, she just stops and stares at me, and her eyes seem to be on the verge of tears, I'd betrayed her, I'd betrayed her love, I'd betrayed her trust, and as I try to catch her, to tell her I'm sorry, that I'm so so sorry, she runs away from me, and I ran after her, and the more I run after her, the farther away she gets from me, and I am now in a darkness so utterly devoid of life that I can't see anything.

This is what hell is for me. I have to relive my worst moment forever and for ever. I would welcome whatever eternities filled with meat hooks and surgical instruments and whichever tortures the devils in hell could conjure - none would be as painful as knowing you're about to do an act of evil that can never be undone, and though you wish with all that's left of you that you could somehow make it stop, make like it never happened, it's too late, it's already too late, it will always be too late.

The plow that broke the plains

I was running a bit of a fever this past week and the one before, and I completely spaced out on a theme I had planned for this bit of the run. Right at the start of my Death Metal journey, I taped a record off of my friend Valter which would prove to be momentous for me : a compilation/sampler of (mostly) Death Metal bands called 'At Death's door'. Most - but not all - of these bands were bands I found out through this record. Others came shortly after. You know, all in all this was a pretty fun week when it came to my listens. Nothing groundbreaking, no, but none of it was below 'good'.

Day 100 - Deicide - 'Banished By Sin'.

There's something to be said about Deicide - it's always a fun listen. Right from the first track I listened from them - 'Dead By Dawn' - I always got a bit of a smirk when I listen to them. I'd not listened to any of their shit since 1992's 'Legion', and this one was sweet and to the point. There was more melody than I'd expected, especially in the solos. It's a pretty decent 7.5/10

Day 101 - Morgoth - 'Ungod' 

I might write a bit more about this later on on another theme, but sometime in the mid to late 1990's there were quite a few bands - in Death Metal, Black Metal and Thrash Metal in particular - that would do away with their traditional sounds and become much more involved in Industrial and electronic music. Morgoth was one such band, and I wasn't even aware that they still existed. When I researched this album, I found out it was written with a new singer, which to me was surprising because on listening to it it sounded very much like the old singer.  Truth be told, this one was very reminiscent of old Morgoth, and nothing like 1996's 'Feel Sorry For The Fanatic. And Jesus Fucking Christ, it was thirty years ago already. This one isn't bad, by any means, but maybe the least satisfying listen from this week. I'll award it a 6.5/10

Day 102 - Pestilence - 'Exitivm'

Just like Morgoth, this is a band I learned about from that Death Metal sampler I mentioned. They didn't wow me then, and I only ever listened to their second album - 'Consuming Impulse'. Because I was told that their other records were crap, I never bothered with them. To be fair, I really didn't enjoy how they sounded that much, so I never really felt like I'd missed out on anything special. And this record is good, not great, and it suffers from production issues seen elsewhere before : sounds too samey. Just a 6.5/10 and that's enough.

Day 103 - Obituary -'Dying For Everything' 

There are a number of ritual when you're into metal, and a number of them revolve around how you look and the more you curate your image - but not to the point where everyone can see you're a poser a mile away - the more you'll find it easier to fit in with the crowds that you'll eventually hang out because though the metal person is somewhat of a lone wolf, they also yearn to be in a pack. One part of that image is the clothes you wear - especially the band tees, which can tell a lot about you. Go too underground with your bands of choice, and you risk being seen as an insufferable snob that only listens to bands you can't even understand their name on their logo. Go too mainstream and yeah, you're a poser with little to no hope of redemption. But hit that right spot and you sport some of them tees that are just eye catching, coupled with undeniable band quality, and you'll be the shit. Or not, I tried and I never was. And one of the bands that I tried was Obituary - I had a hoodie and a couple of tees, and they had some of the best artwork you could find. And I sort of liked them at first - the first record, 'Slowly We Rot', I found quite good. But their next couple of offerings I felt were not too enjoyable for me. Because they did something different than most other bands : instead of being blisteringly fast and brutal, they were ponderously slow and brutal. And I know which one I preferred... I ditched them in 1992 and never gave them another listen. And I have to say I really liked this one, and I liked the production of it quite a lot - it reminded of how Death Metal used to sound in the 90s. It also helps that the singer has very unique growls and it makes for a great listening experience. A very strong 8/10

Day 104 - Cannibal Corpse - 'Chaos Horrific' 

There's no other band like Cannibal Corpse. But for me, when Chris Barnes quit the band/was fired from the band / whatever, that was also it for me. And before you ask, I never ever listened to a Six Feet Under album either. But just like Obituary, the Cannibal Corpse tees were the shit, nay, the bomb back then, the vilest imagery you could picture, guaranteed to make old grannies shake in disbelief, and old grandpas shake their hands in rage at you! I only ever had the one tee that said 'FULL OF HATE' in the back. Ah man, them good old days.

As for the record itself, it was pretty fucking good - pretty heavy, pretty brutal, and while I could make the same gripes about the production making it sound too samey, the difference is that when it's done with sheer quality, then it makes for a great listen. Week looking to end on a high note, I'll give it a pretty great 8/10

Day 105 - Benediction - 'Ravage Of Empires' 

I can't think about this band without thinking about a stupid story. It's sometime in summer 1992, and after my dad had been away from the picture for a while, he reappears in our lives again, and pretty soon he's introducing me and my sister to his new girlfriend. I never knew the story - not even the tiniest bit of it - but if I had to guess, I'd say that they both met in some sort of recovering alcoholics group or some shit like that. The woman never did me any unkindness, but I never really liked her. But her son, a kid close to my age, maybe a little bit older, him I liked. Nelson, his name was, and this kid was a veritable encyclopedia when it came to alternative music - there were quite a lot of bands that I got to know through his collection. I also paid that in kind, because he got to know a lot of the metal I was getting into. So one day we all go to some sort of festival thing in a huge park right by where they lived, and a couple of his cousins tag along with us. They were pretty weird kids, but I didn't really care - all I cared about at the time was trying to add stuff to my ever growing collection of tapes. One of the bands that I'd recorded off of Valter's collection was Benediction, but he only had the one record by them, their second - 'The Grand Leveller'. So when we're all in this festival thingamajig, and it's incredibly loud, I'm talking to one of the weird cousins - buggered if I can rememer his name - and I decide to ask him if he knows the band.

'Hey, you ever heard about a band called Benediction?'

'WHAT?', he replies

'I SAID, YOU KNOW A BAND CALLED BENEDICTION?'

'JANE'S ADDICTION?', he says, 'I LOVE JANE'S ADDICTION!'

'OH MY GOD I'M REALLY INTO BENEDICTION AS WELL, BUT I ONLY HAVE THEIR SECOND ALBUM!', I say.

'OH NO SHIT? I CAN GET YOU THE FIRST ONE, I GOT IT!', says he.

And eventually Nelson would later hand me a tape, which I received with giddy anticipation, but alas... no Death Metal to be found there. Bah. 

This was a pretty good record, actually. And it clearly shows just how different European and American Death Metal really can be. Though the genre has its roots in the U.S., over here it would change and evolve. Keeping the ball rolling, it gets a smacking 8/10

Day 106 - Carcass - 'Torn Arteries'

Of course Carcass. Or, because English is not my native language, and because I'd never heard the word being spoken out loud, 'Car-Cass' as I called them. One of the best memories I have about buying records was this one day in 1991 when me, Valter, and some other metal dudes went to this flea market where there were some folks selling vinyl and CDs. Back then, I wasn't exactly flush with cash, so what little money I did manage to get, I had to be very careful about where I'd spend it. But I had a little money in my pocket, and one of the vendors was absolutely stacked with records I wanted. I bought three - Deicide's self titled first album, Flotsam and Jetsam first record 'Doomsday For The Deceiver' and Carcass's 'Reek Of Putrefaction', in its original cover. They had a fine career, going out on somewhat of a bang in 1996's aptly titled 'Swansong'. A few years back they decided to reunite, and released a couple of albums. It sounds like classic Carcass, and sometimes I still say 'Car-Cass' and all, just for kicks. This was heads and shoulders the highlight of the week, I even listened to it some three or four times on the trot. Superb, it gets a 9/10!

Not sure what comes next. I mean, I could torture myself and do a week just about bands that I absolutely loathe. I don't know. Maybe. Though I could also do with a week of really good music, but I think I'm saving up my good ideas for later.

I thought this wouldn’t hurt a lot, I guess not

A week that has been tough as nails because not only did my health decide to act up again, I treated it with booze and pills - something that works just fine.
And also this week was not fun at all, when it came to the listening. If last week I was expecting it to be rough, this week has been far harder to endure - there wasn’t a lot of good listening done.
But I’d be remiss if I didn’t state that these bands - these parts of my journey - came into my life due to a very specific person. It’s summer 1989 and the heaviest shit I listen to - the heaviest shit I’m aware of - is Metallica, Iron Maiden, Helloween, and a few others. This, of course, changed when I met an older kid called Valter and his brother Vilson, and through them I got to know a wealth of bands I’d never heard of. Me and these kids got along really well out of a shared love for Transformers and comics, and music came right after. I remember early on he asked what I listened to. And I said ‘Heavy Metal’. ‘No shit’, he said, ‘like what bands?’ And I says, ‘Oh, you probably never heard of them… METALLICA!’, and he looks at me, slightly confused, his bespectacled face slightly ajar, eager to correct me. He replies and says ‘Metallica isn’t Heavy Metal. Metallica is Thrash Metal.’, a fact I was woefully ignorant of. ‘Oh yeah?’, I say, and ‘what other thrash bands arre you into?’, and he spews an obscene amount of names I’d never heard of, most of which I can no longer remember, and a whole bunch I never knew were real or not. ‘And those’, said he, ‘are just the thrash bands I like. Now, as for Death Metal…’, and I’m stood there, mouth agape, listening to a torrent of names, and I had no idea there were that many bands in the world period let alone Death Metal bands. ‘And then there’s Speed Metal, and Grindcore, and Black Metal - which I legit thought was metal played by black people, and in my mind I was expecting this sort of heavy music mixed with some afro tribal beats and when I first listened to a Black Metal band I was sort of disappointed - and Doom Metal, and so much more’, he said. And my mind was abuzz because I wanted - nay, I needed - to listen to all these bands and all these genres.
The coup de grâce - so to speak - was when I first went to this kid’s house and he showed me is vast music collection. He already had more than a hundred CDs, dozens of vinyl records, and hundreds upon hundreds tapes - and in a notebook he had not only which records were recorded on which tapes, but they were all individually numbered and catalogued by date of recording. He even went one step further, in the sense that he eventually would equalize all of his records and even jot down what he deemed was his ideal equalization for each and every one of them.
And so, for the next few months and years, every single time I went to his house, I brought new music home with me. Some I revisited this week, and some I’ll be revisiting next week. What I’d like to tell you in advance is that none of these bands I truly ever loved - I just kind of liked them, some more than others, because even then I knew I was looking for something with much more melody. As such, I had not listened to a new album from any of these bands in over thirty years. Some I know a song here and there, but I no longer had any interest in listening to this type of sound.


Day 93 - Sepultura - 'Quadra'
Let’s instantly date me : the last album I listened to by them was ‘Chaos A.D.’ which I didn’t really like. But truth be told… I didn’t like the previous one that much as well. What I do like is the early stuff - for me they peaked with ‘Beneath The Remains’. I know that the band had a lot of drama and in fighting, which eventually led to founding members Max and Igor Cavalera eventually leaving. I’d never, ever heard anything by them with the new guy - Derrick Green - and who knew what could be in store? Especially because when I gave up on the band, it felt like they’d woken up one day and had no idea how to play their instruments?
Surprisingly, it’s more technical than what I was expecting. I’m enjoying the new guy’s voice. But then something weird happens… about ten minutes in, I'd forgotten I was listening to a Sepultura album, but rather it felt like a Pantera album. Production once again makes it feel very same-y, though it does have some variety to it. Maybe a 7/10

Day 94 - Death - ‘The Sound Of Perserverance’
Oh boy, will this be one for the ages. Death are the very first Death Metal band I listened to - and they could be considered the inventors of the genre, either them or Possessed, depending on which story you believe in. And my first exposure to them was none other than the debut ‘Scream Bloody Gore’ - which I really liked. But I wasn’t that much of a fan of what they did next, which isn’t to say it was bad (it wasn’t), but maybe it was just not for me. The band’s leader, founder, singer, main composer was one Chuck Schuldiner - and he is one of the most beloved figures not only in the genre, but metal altogether. This was his final album before passing away at a fairly young age, and I know it’s universally beloved. But… I didn’t like it. Worse, I didn’t even enjoy it. But it is very good - very, very good - for what it is. And it’s not the band, or the album… it’s me. I’ll give it a very generous 5/10

Day 95 - Morbid Angel - ‘Kingdoms Disdained’
Not good. Sounded like one single, long, boring song full of all the worst death metal clichés. It barely merits a 3/10

Day 96 - Kreator - ‘Krushers Of The World’
I hadn’t listened to a Kreatot album since ‘Renewal’… damn!
This one was surprising. Thrashy but also gothic-y, sometimes reminded of stuff like Skyclad and Rotting Christ. One of the bests for this week, worthy of a good 7/10

Day 97 - Sodom - ‘The Arsonist’
I can’t think about this band without thinking of a girl called Sonia, who I went to school with in the early 90s. Not only was she the first girl I knew who listened to metal, she was also the first black girl I knew who listened to metal, and that was pretty fucking cool. But she always wore this one Sodom tee, which had the cover to their album ‘Agent Orange’, and so they’ve always been her band. Truth be told, I wasn’t a fan then, and I didn’t really like the album I listened to. Again, not bad, but not great either. Gets a 6/10 from me.

Day 98 - Destruction - ‘Birth Of Malice’
I liked this one just a tad better than the Sodom one - but not by much. Not much to say about it really, I’ll give it a 6.5/10 just so I can move on.

Day 99 - Tankard - ‘Pavlov’s Dawgs’
Jeez. I can still remember the first time I listened to Tankard. Whenever I visited Valter’s house, we’d spend hours playing video games and listening to music. He’d always choose whatever we’d listen to, and I trusted his choices. Then one day he tells me ‘You’ve listened to Death Metal, yes, but what about Beer Metal?’, and quick as you please, there I am sat in his living room listening to whatever the fuck I was listening to, my brain about to explode, and then… ‘Tantrum’ comes along. And this is a song about some poor guy who went to a party looking to get drunk, but someone stole his beer, and now he’s going mental! It was love at first listen! But in all fairness… I discovered them pretty much around the same time as Paradise Lost and the New Wave Of Swedish Death Metal bands like Entombed, Dismember and At The Gates and that would set the course for much of what I’d listen to moving forward - well, until the late 90s/early 00s.
This was maybe my pick of the week - it is good, very well played, and though sadly I didn’t hear anything about beer or alcohol here, I quite liked it. I’ll gripe again about the length of a record, because it didn’t need to be 55 minutes long. Good editing once again cut it short of something better. 7.5/10

As for next week, well, a potentially harsher crucible. Mayhaps I shall be surprised. Mayhaps not.