Although I play in band that gets to travel extensively, seeing corners of the world most tourists never see, it is still work. We are in a particular locale for a reason- to perform, to (hopefully and sometimes) get paid, and to make people happy. The past 5 years have been defined by an unending link of tours that brought us to places like Turkey, New Zealand, Taiwan, and Newfoundland. But, it was still within the context of the band, and that is not a bad thing, it is just a somewhat “limiting” feature of the touring life. Most often we are only in one city for one day, and you have to make the most of it – no sleeping late and no sitting around the club. get out and live! Its a hard endeavor sometimes, but if you want to see the world you are moving across, you can not just sit by and watch from the sidelines of the venue…
On that note, I am heading off, for we have a rare bit of extended downtime until we start up again on Sept. 10 for our US/Canada tour with Despised Icon and Revocation, to be quickly followed by a headlining tour of Europe in Oct and Nov with Grave. So I decided to go back to my spiritual homeland of Suomi-Finland and head north to the wilderness of Lapland to hike among the desolate corridors around the arctic circle, seek out some birds, and enjoy the last breath of summer as the days grow shorter signifying the real end of summer. Primarily, I am going to Kuusamo, not far from the Russian border, but that is base camp, from there we will see….I will try and make some updates while there, which should be easy as Finland is the most internet ‘connected’ nation in the world, so I suppose the reindeer there have facebooks pages…
As many know, a certain Judge Walker today overturned the ban on gay marriage in California (known as Proposition 8), and as Dahlia Lithwick over at Slate effectively laid out, there was not really much of a fight from the opposition. This to me proves that the entire justification for disallowing a legalized, gay union is overwhelmingly baseless. I have not heard one argument against that was formed in fact, as to why any human beings, in love with one another, that you or I do not even know, should not have the same legal sanction to their union as anyone else. Fleeting arguments based on morality and ‘fear of the other,’ shoved aside, the Judge made the correct ruling and in a 2010 United States of America (who so boldly trumps its “freedom” and “liberty” ad nauseam), why would any American reject this?
Well, we obviously have a big country here, comprised of many cultures and subcultures. Some are residual and some are developing- meaning, the struggle of ideology in history manifests itself in the cities and towns in varying degrees and permutations. The readiness to accept something like this is obviously more digestible in the cosmopolitan boroughs of the coastal cities than it is in the hamlets of Appalachia. The idea is normal to some, almost a given of logic- love should be sanctioned no matter the gender of the consenting adult. To others, raised in insularity, the idea is heresy. It challenges their perception of reality and the very morals they have grown up with to assist in defining their reality. This is the intersection of social progress in the United States, and as each side pushes forward, holding onto their values as something they both define as “common sense,” it nevertheless cracks at the union of these US’ of A.
Hopefully, as with the civil rights movement of the 1960′s, this ‘second wave’ can overcome the bias and illegitimate fears of the opposition, so that what they perceive as “normal” today (the denigration of others’ civil rights) becomes as anachronistic as the events of other ugly incidents in our nations past. I know history takes its time when it comes to such things, but hopefully this is another step towards ending this debate, for many other fronts remain…
These three separate (yet related) stories surfaced this week. Each, on its own hints at a growing panoptic oversight of human activity from the ever-interested and increasingly collusive/conflating areas of government and private sector. One article (the one regarding individually-targeted advertisements) cites yet another “Minority Report” effect, with another of Philip K. Dick’s prescient prophecies coming to life. The digital “panopticon” is something I mentioned before on these pages, stemming from Foucault‘s outline of the all-seeing power structure, that in this day and age, is realized quite effectively through electronic communications. It is interesting to note as well the degree to which we accept and embrace our own surveillance state, as in the name of cool, the seemingly benign attributes of marketing slowly merge with aspects of the police-state apparatus previously untapped, giving the friendly, welcoming Google search page a new meaning. This is something that will be more and more a part of everyday life in hyper-capitalist systems, and the more we conceive of these changes as “normal,” the more dangerous they become.
Czech Republic, not a bad place to spend a few days. Mountains, Bohemian rhapsodies, world class beer, a city that still carries it’s Cold War charisma, and culture ripe with a central European flavor that screams “do-what-thou-willst.” We got the invite to play Obscene Extreme many years ago, but it just never worked out. The summer touring schedule in Europe always demanded some stop here or there, in another far flung corner of Euroland, and so we regretfully declined time after time. This year was different, we said yes, and decided not to do any other festival. Contrary to some rumors heard over the weekend, Misery Index did not get heaps of money, we understand the DIY nature of the fest, and the promoter Curby being a class act dude, we simply requested flights and expenses. Four days in the Czech countryside, among numerous friends, great bands, AND we get to play? Czech it! We are there.
The flight was unremarkable (as they all are these days, so long as we arrive in one piece), dropping us down in Prague for the pickup, followed by a three hour ride north to the town of Trutnov, near the Polish border. We met the drummer for DRI on the same flight, and together we found our “driver” and followed him to the death-cab known always as “the Limo ride to the Fest.” I say that, because invariably these guys who pick up bands are always some kind of tweaker-weirdos. They get paid to drive back and forth all day long in traffic, shuttling bands to and fro, all the while chain-smoking cigs, driving like the mohawk guy in Road Warrior, burning in and out of tiny little towns, looking for some family to wipe out (while we cringe in terror in the back). This guy was no different, and as always, they (conveniently) never speak English, so you are forced to sort of “sign” at him while screaming “SLOW THE FUCK DOWN!.” But alas, its all i vain. Say your prayers to Dio, cause its a 50/50 chance this goon will kill you.
Arriving in Trutnov, with shit firmly encrusted in our pants (after Mr. Toad’s wild ride), we drop the goods off at the hotel, and head over to the festival site. I am not sure how the festival was in previous years, but it seemed well organized and well maintained. I heard rumors of filth parades and mud-mess about this place, as it is quite popular among legions of crusties and other freaks that attend (perhaps following the “freak friendly” notification on the flyer?). I would say that by the last night (Saturday), things certainly did get a bit filthy, but for the first two days, it was just hot, smelly and good times. We went right to the backstage bar and ordered three glorious pints of Gambrinus, one of the best beers available, AND fresh on tap. The “backstage” area itself was really this sort of open-air lodge that sat beneath some trees behind the actual main (and only) stage, which was in an outdoor amphitheater setting. The entire festival area was situated in a very forested area, in a park just outside the main town (itself primarily known for an 1866 Prussian-Austrian battle ground). This fest has a reputation of being the ‘punkest’ of all the Euro fests, with nothing but 100% vegan food available, and plenty of low-priced drink and merchandise options. No disappointments!
Despite the excitement, I was severely jet-lagged and struggled to retain consciousness by that evening, so I cashed in by 9PM. However, I awoke early that morning in our hotel room, startled by my fellow bandmate’s very loud and obnoxious re-entry to the room. Needless to say, they had a rough morning. I am not sure what commenced over the course of the night but I went out at 6AM to hit the local park looking for birds – PHOTOS FROM THE CZECH FOREST BELOW (with my first Great Spotted Woodpecker sited!), and I returned to find Mark in my bed, somehow wearing Adam’s pants! I guess that Gambrinus went a long way… Still, we did not have to perform until the following day, so we enjoyed another day at the fest, more amazing bands live, and more good laughs. Highlights over the entire weekend included Doom, Warpath, Victims (see the picture of Adam and Jon in the hotel @ 6 AM), Catheter, and dozens of others. (Also good to see Tanja, Robert, Kantor, and others-
We finally felt ready to play by Saturday. After sitting around all day, each day, talking, drinking and well…waiting, you eventually just want to get it over with (and that we did). However, Just prior to our performance on Saturday night, the skies opened up and the rain came down in droves. Mud piles formed around a lake in front of the stage, and things got soggy and even smellier for the attendees (if that was even possible). Nevertheless, we let ‘er rip, and had an enjoyable time. Afterward, we tried to cram as much last-minute celebration into the wee hours of the AM as possible, as the damn flight was leaving so early (we had a 5:30 departure that morning to drive to the airport). Sure enough, “death cab” (but no cutie) arrived on time, but at that hour we were much too tired to be scared, and passed out all the way back to Prague, hoping to arrive alive. A short but sweet weekend in Bohemia -mission accomplished!
…for the fabulous and fantastic OEFEST2010 if you know you know. We are performing, and partaking in the revelry, and I will be hitting the area parks for ornithological specimens as yet unseen! Until then, THERE IS SOME CRITICAL SHIT HAPPENING RIGHT NOW!!!
Over at the “Number of the Blog,” Misery Index is the band of the week (or more), and with that distinction we are given reign to write articles and promote ourselves etc. In the process, I gave an interview (that is located here), in which one of the questions was particularly charged in relation to some lyrics on the new record, so I thought I would also throw it up here. Just to clarify, we all must do what we can do, to make ourselves happy in life (is that not the ultimate goal?), so such answers are to be found only within ourselves…
“It’s unfortunate, but the concepts behind ‘Fed To The Wolves’/’The Spectator’ (being a product and a slave to capitalism) and ‘Plague Of Objects’ (greed within consumer culture) hits home for me and I’m sure quite a few of our other bloggers and readers, yet for many of us these are “Damned if you do” propositions in that we have kids to feed and homes to heat. What kind of things can guys like me do to help lessen the stranglehold the corporations have on my pocketbook and my society?”
The lyrics to those tracks are not meant as a broad attack on middle class life – they are a bit more specific. First, ‘Fed To The Wolves’ is in essence about my own personal experience with the school system, and how I felt going through classes as an alienated teenager that I was somehow on an assembly line and I was being spoon-fed a particular world view. Perhaps it might have been my school or my teachers, I am sure there is better out there, but I felt like it was not a place to instill dreams and imagination, but a place that prepared you more for the meritocratic system of the workplace, and to breed subservience to forms of power in the workplace and society. It was not my best experience so I vented on that with the ‘Wolves…’ track.
Now, on ‘The Spectator’, that is also about someone I know who gave up their dreams in place of the ‘certainty’ of the middle class lifestyle. If someone is content and happy in this position in life, that is one thing – who am I to criticize someone’s happiness? Families and comfort can be a joyous experience and I am not targeting that, the main idea of that song is to target those who are not happy, who gave up their dreams due to social and external pressures, when they did not have to. The idea is to encourage that person to break out of their shell and enjoy life on their own terms, not just live their life through alienated labor, things and commodities.
Lastly, ‘Plague Of Objects’ is really about the modern systems of technology and capitalism that when brought to where they are today, in a hyper-consumption context, serve to reconstruct how we think about the world, what is possible in the world, and what we dream about the world and ourselves..its meant to be sort of a philosophical criticism of modernity in a sense, or as much as one can be analytical through lyrics in death metal.
I recently picked up Sam Dunn’s new Rush film/documentary “Beyond the Lighted Stage.” Given that he is noteworthy for bringing the “story” out of the subjects in his films (such as “A Headbanger’s Journey” and “Flight 666“), I knew there would be entertainment as well as insight. I count myself as a member of the ‘cult of Rush,’ not just for the music they made (which is exceptional and timeless), but for drummer Neil Peart’s lyrics. This guy was obviously the cerebral cat from early on, and his visionary lyrical texts influenced me immensely – more so than the music in some cases.
While watching the movie, and seeing these guys go through a half dozen incarnations and ideas about who they ‘thought they were’ at some given point in their career, the lyrics to me were still the consistent and reliable force. While I favor the early 80s material the best, I love the lyrics to “The Trees” (from Hemispheres, 1978) just as much as I love the lyrics to “The Pass” (from Presto, 1989). However, one track exceptionally relevant to the cultural criticism that finds its way into a lot of Misery Index’s lyrics, is “Subdivisons,” from 1982′s Signals.
Here, Peart captures the essence of suburban alienation. He situates you in a context that is both familiar yet distant. The words have an almost science-fiction-like coldness, yet we know the area, we know the swath of endless suburbs that explode out endlessly around Toronto (the city I see in the song), or any other urban megalopolis. Peart is a complex guy, his life marked by tragedy (he lost his wife and daughter not even a year apart), and brilliance, not just behind the kit, but as a writer as well. His noted affinity for good literature (well, Ayn Rand is debatable) finds its way into the majority of his lyrics that speak of the human condition -something I always look for.
Furthermore, on “Subdivisions,” he deconstructs the effects a uniform existence on the spirit, and the effects of systemic conformity on the imagination, yet makes it as lucid as if he were mirroring our own biography. He shows this phenomena as something not of our making, something bigger than ourselves, and as something that both entices us, while simultaneously crushing “the restless dreams of youth.” With our “opinions all provided,” and “the future pre-decided,” he sets the mood Orwellian, yet we read these descriptions and see our existence around us now, fueling dissonance and uncertainty about the nature of our ‘civilized,’ modern order. How free are we to really think about other possibilities, and ways of organizing our lives, when what we perceive as “normal” -this subdivided landscape of consumerism run amok – is something we also see as inevitable?
Thanks Neil, for many good years of not just stellar music, but of great penmanship as well.
Subdivisions
Sprawling on the fringes of the city
In geometric order
An insulated border
In between the bright lights
And the far unlit unknown
Growing up it all seems so one-sided
Opinions all provided
The future pre-decided
Detached and subdivided
In the mass production zone
Nowhere is the dreamer or the misfit so alone
(Subdivisions)
In the high school halls
In the shopping malls
Conform or be cast out
(Subdivisions)
In the basement bars
In the backs of cars
Be cool or be cast out
Any escape might help disprove the unattractive truth
But the suburbs have no charms to soothe the restless dreams of youth
Drawn like moths we drift into the city
The timeless old attraction
Cruising for the action
Lit up like a firefly
Just to feel the living night
Well some will sell their dreams for small desires
Or lose the race to rats
Get caught in ticking traps
And start to dream of somewhere
To relax their restless flight
Somewhere out of a memory of lighted streets on quiet nights…
Spread the world over via the “Collateral Murder” title under Wikileaks, it shows the point of view from an Apache gunship helicopter in Iraq, as it closes in on unidentified civilians who they ‘think might be’ armed (one was actually a Reuters news photographer carrying a camera). One would think they would be sure of such things before randomly massacring them. The gunner gets the clear to fire, and he proceeds excitedly to rip apart a dozen or so human beings with glee, at one point hoping for an injured man to show some kind of weapon so he can kill him. Then he proceeds to rip apart 2 other civilians coming to his rescue. I know soldiers are trained to kill without emotion, but this one is audibly elated as he kills unarmed civilians as if playing a video game.
I am sure many have already seen this (with 7 million+ views on Youtube), and if you have, you can understand why much of the world views the US as imperial cowboys, shooting our way to “freedom.” To think acts such as these are done in our name, and with our tax dollars, while the population is more concerned with “Twilight” and “American Idol” shows the sad state of our ‘democracy’ in action. Strangely, I can see why the Obama administration would want to suppress this, and to think that these guys acted accordingly in the eyes of their superiors says a lot about what we ARE NOT seeing. “Collateral damage” indeed.
Over on Slate, culture scrutinizer Ron Rosenbaum has eloquently and effectively laid out what I have internally pondered for decades- An Agnostic Manifesto. This is required reading for those confident atheists who so assuredly bypass the question: ‘how does one really and truly know, in a scientific way, what was the spark behind where and when all this around us came into existence?’ Or as Rosenbaum puts it:
“In fact, I challenge any atheist, New or old, to send me their answer to the question: “Why is there something rather than nothing?” I can’t wait for the evasions to pour forth. Or even the evidence that this question ever could be answered by science and logic.”
Obviously, as both agnostics and atheists are skeptical, it is an answer not to be found in the prevailing myth that is organized religion, but from hard, material evidence. Perhaps we have no evidence now, but then we had no evidence of many a thing until the last few hundred years, eh?
“In fact, the term agnostic was coined in 1869 by one of Darwin’s most fervent followers, Thomas Henry Huxley, famously known as “Darwin’s bulldog” for his defense of evolutionary theory. Here’s how he defined his agnosticism:
“This principle may be stated in various ways but they all amount to this: that it is wrong for a man to say that he is certain of the objective truth of any proposition unless he can produce evidence which logically justifies that certainty.”
So come all ye faithful atheists, and embrace your inner agnostic…
So, it is said, the death of one person is a tragedy, and the death of millions is a statistic…?
The idea behind “Sleeping Giants” stems from my belief that every newborn human life on planet Earth matters. Not one should be discounted, left behind, or thought of as expendable. Too often we read these stories as ‘lives translated into numbers’ regarding infant mortality rates, war, and epidemic, and the statistics tend to overshadow and numb the humanity behind the individuals that get lumped into these news-ready numbers. For every child lost to cholera, or for every family driven out of their home in an ethnic conflict, there is a potential Einstein or Hawking in waiting, if only given the chance.
To zero in on this belief I needed a concrete issue, I wanted the song to have more of a lyrical focus to back up the belief stated above, so I chose the very real and universally revolting problem of Human Trafficking, something that targets the young worldwide. The plucking of children from their homes by deviants, depriving them of family and childhood, thrusting them into abhorrent situations such as prostitution/sexual slavery, child labor, and child soldiering, is what represents the ‘dark side’ of globalization.
The architects that oversee and benefit from the kidnapping, the manipulation, and the exploitation of children worldwide are indeed the lowest of the low. Therefore this song, while rigidly simplistic and straight forward in a grindcore/death metal way, is specifically meant to harness the anger and frustration over this issue. You may have noticed my good friend John Gallagher giving me a hand on this track, and I felt it was a good chance to give the back-and-forth vocals of Fetus-yesteryear a tribute at the end, with John taking the most on point, in your face lines of the lyrics.
“Flushed from the fields on the Malian steppe
Carved out from wombs that our fathers beset
As giants we sleep, where hopelessness ends
As UN statistics. we’re counted and fed
Children of war, hunger, and filth
Dragged through the dust in our misery
Where you won’t be seen alive…
In diamond mines, on textile looms,
As cocaine mules, and prostitutes….we don’t exist”
If this issue sounds like something you can get on board with, check out these sites belonging to organizations that deal directly with this issue.
Captive-audience advertising is an ever insidious infiltration into our everyday consciousness. To think that this ‘me-time’ can not be free of crass commercial imagery and messages, even at our most personal moments, is a somewhat expected yet still vomit inducing fact of capitalist culture.
The other day I was in an unnamed establishment, and they had TV-monitors in front of the urinals. They have TV monitors at the gas pump, and they have TV monitors in every corner of every damn bar. Are we really that stimulus addicted that we can not enjoy free-flowing thoughts without being bored, or is this simply another method of ‘forcing’ the message down our throats while we wallow away our leisure time?
I thought pissing was as personal a moment as you could have, but I am sure they will have them in the shit-stalls soon enough. Gas pumps- really? Are we that bored pumping gas that we need to watch an infomercial? It seems Exxon thinks so. And bars, i thought people went to bars to socialize and meet people, not watch TV (aside from the obligatory sporting events, of course!).
Then, there are the airlines, airing commercials to passive and anxious passengers, as well as the ubiquitous billboards that destroy the beauty of the landscape from Florida to Oregon, and the inane product placement in films today that make it seem more like a collection of clever super-bowl commercials with a plot.
Under the microscope, these are all quite normal, every day things here in States, and that is the scary part- how quickly over a course of a few decades we have allowed our consciousness to be colonized by unending and pervasive commercial messages. The thousands each of us consume daily ready us to better identify corporate logos before we’d recognize the names of our own state congressional representatives.
With their tentacles extending down to effectively control both the political and legal process, the power that corporations hold over our lives is at a pandemic level. But the fact that we must fight to find our own mental space (lest we run into the woods) is the final, damaging blow to our freedom from the commercial claw. People are generally averse to advertising, and the companies know it, so hopefully we can “fast forward” are way out of these new methods of advert-infiltrations, before the next phase of the “programming” begins.
Hooded Menace - I have always had a soft spot in my liver for Finnish metal, and especially Finnish doom-death. These dudes from the Eastern regions of Suomi (Joensuu to be specific), have lit my arse afire with an album that is the bastard offspring of Amorphis’ “The Karelian Isthmus,” except better, doomier, and dripping with the blood of Perkele himself! It’s an acquired taste, but one that digests easier after a few shots of Koskenkorva and a pint of Karhu! The lyrical theme is primarily horror, which is perfect for the haunting chords, and hey, there is even the “Theme From Return Of The Evil Dead” performed in absolute doom-tastic perfection. Their newest (and second) full length is out now on Canada’s Profound Lore, the label that seems to be scooping up all the subterranean groundbreakers these days…I encourage a listen if it sounds up your alley, if not, then go spend a winter in Lapland, and come back and tell me you still “don’t get it!”
I did not know there was a term called “Prosumer,” but its seems to have arisen as a buzzword in recent years under my radar. In short, it’s a ‘person who helps to design or customize the products they purchase (“producer” + “consumer”).’ Think the ultimate specialization in terms of constructing the products we devour, (and not just designing your own Converse All Stars) but in the sense we provide content for the companies who have the network and system to capitalize on it – think any socialized media form online that thrives on the buzz and content of the almighty “crowd.”
It dates back at least as far as 1999 when this fellow Raymond dropped it:
“‘It’s not just about retail, but medicine, design, architecture, fashion, interiors, even bio-technology and the internet,’ says Shaw. ‘All are moving towards a point where the purchaser or prosumer is key to determining the final look, feel and thumbprint characteristics of the product and service being sold.’” —Martin Raymond, “Made to Measure,” The Independent, November 7, 1999
We all know the buzz about this from both the left and the right, and as a former professor has called to my attention, the hype is getting hyperbolic, as corporations are salivating at the possibilities. The idea that we as consumers (those who have access mind you), are somehow changing our media to become more knowledgeable and active in our media diets, simply because we are engaging our social networking options and dumping our personalized media flotsam and jetsam all over the internet, is a generalized myth…as I responded…
The prosumer, indeed ascendant and coexisting alongside “traditional” producers and consumers, is hardly an icon of change for progressives, as in material terms, the prosumer is little more than an overly-active participant in his/her own socially conditioned position in the hegemonic order, thus assumptions of a new (idealized) knowledge-driven progressive class of ‘prosumers’ is exaggerated. Internet users are more conscious of their participation as prosumers, yet at the same time are more in line with the consensual needs of the prevailing order, as they indulge, play and create media within the acceptable, unchallenged realms of the corporate backers that essentially structure their networks for them.
(The overseer builds the playground, and the children cavort and use their imagination at will- all within and limited to the realm of the playground and its rules)
Mediations are fomented, and the virtual world ‘appears’ to be a thriving network of ideas, yet it mystifies the fact that in essence, it harbors anonymous millions acting out their egos for each other, ad infinitum. The emboldened Prosumer thus jumps at the task of constructing identities and personas, and in the process he does market research on himself, thus getting the consumer to do half the work for the corporate mediators, even as he feeds his own ego! Prosumption then, on the whole, appears to be perpetuating existing structures, rather than developing or realizing any alternative political potential, and in Gramscian terms, in can be understood as a mediating and conditioning tool of class relations that is specific to these newer forms in post-industrial capitalism….
It will be interesting to see where this boat takes us…
So my far-away friend Taylor out in Los Angeles told me he had a new band. It had been a while since I heard from him, when in 2006 he was filling in for LA mainstays Crematorium, and then afterwards in 2007 jamming with the hardcore band Fight Everyone. Seems he has moved on to greener pastures cause when his new band NAILS came across my radar, I knew there was something a bit more ‘up my alley’ with this project. I heard a few tracks from their recent “Unsilent Death” EP over at Invisible Oranges (not to mention a cool write-up in the new Decibel), and after connecting with Taylor (who is the drummer by the way-good job man!) I have a fresh copy of rare vinyl in the mail, brimming with all its Kurt Ballou-produced rawness (a good raw mind you). They are going to move on to bigger things, I can tell, I got a nose for this fecal matter I tell ya! SO I wish them well, check em out:
Unsilent Death consists of 10 unrelenting and unapologetic songs with a sound not unlike the late 80′s Earache Records catalog mixed with early power violence. Recorded during the cold winter of 2009 at Kurt Ballou’s Godcity Recording Studio. Westbrook said: “it sounds like Entombed covering Napalm Death and Drop Dead”.
