Black crowned night heron © Robert Sommers 2023

Tuesday, October 6, 2009


This is suffokate. My friend Melissa's son Taylor is the rhythm guitar player in this band. I think the genre is called death metal but may be wrong. Speed metal? Retard metal? Taylor went to chef's school at CIA and was a very promising cook but is following the musician's dream instead.

A behavioral psychologist would have a field day with the action in the mosh pit. The flailing arms and legs are a definite sign that personal intimacy is highly discouraged. This is the second or third lead vocalist. I knew Jared, who was the first and liked to crash on the couch and raid the refrigerator.

All of the singers seem to have taken their cues from the same klingon voice coach. The whole deal reminds me of Hitler Youth on megadoses of ritalin. Lullaby music for Ragnarok.

To think that Taylor and his brother were weaned on the lovely and melodious offerings of the Grateful Dead. Is this how you treat your parents?

I have watched a couple of their videos and notice a paucity of females in the audience. Maybe the girls have a harder time hanging with the tourette's syndrome guys in their autistic windmill dance. Or all the overt testosterone is shading deep seated male... well, we won't go there.

Read today about the death metal kid who took it a little to far and started do his own Freddie Kruger impressions, but for real.


Emergefit said...

I'm sure they are all nice young men, but I doesn't stop me from uttering the one sentence of my father that I swore I would never utter; "Things were better in my day...." Spoken from an old man with his pants worn upwards of his chest, shaking fist, and bitter look upon my face -- metaphorically of course. rc

Blue Heron said...

I can just see your cheesy doubleknits pulled up under your breasts. And the hair sprouting out from your earlobes...

grumpy said...

that's what you get for weaning your kids on the Dead; they turn on you, and vomit this back; as if to say, "DIE, you fuckin' hippies"; maybe it's not such a bad thing, though; if Taylor had gone on to be a chef, he might have poisoned somebody; this way, he's merely giving himself, and the audience, a lifelong case of tinnitus; unless they passed out earplugs, of course; which i doubt; all in all, i'll take the "Watermelon Man" post over this one.

iODyne said...

greetings, I followed you back here from the one sensible comment at DaisyDeads, and I am the Australian flag in your Feed column over on the left.
'To think that Taylor and his brother were weaned on the lovely and melodious offerings of the Grateful Dead. Is this how you treat your parents?' -

Taylor's parents probably loved Lawrence Welk and admiting TheGDead was how their kids treated them.

My son-in-law has a thrash-metal band and is unmoved by The Flying Burritos, or Randy Newman, or Van Dyke Parks, all of whom I admire intensely (oh and Steve Winwood). That's the way it goes.

Blue Heron said...

Greetings Marshall, you are of course absolutely correct. I love Winwood but think that his treatment of Mason has been rather shitty. He wanted him to play bass at the Hall of Fame show, an instrument Mason had never played. Winwood could have easily played keyboards. Like Lennon McCartney their synergy was greater than their parts. Love the Flying Burritos as well, Hand to mouth is one of my favorite cuts, but alas not on youtube to post to the blog.